Ezra: On break. You coming straight home after Joe-palooza?

Jem: Of course! I’ve planned a full afternoon of rocking on my bed, contemplating the failure that is my life

Jem: You know, the standard post-Joe-lecture routine

Jem: Why?

Ezra: We need to talk …

My stomach lurched. What did he want to talk to me about? A myriad of potential conversations circled my brain. Was he going to talk finances? Ask me to pull my weight? I didn’t pay the full half of my rent—I couldn’t afford to …

Or was it about Humphrey? Oh shit, was he going to tell me that things were moving fast with him … were they going to move in together? Was he abandoning me? Or did he want to move Humphrey into our apartment, and there was no room for me to stay? Was he kicking me out?

“It can’t be that … they’ve only been on one date!” I told myself firmly, but still, my fingers shook as I tapped out rambling questions, worries, and oversharing fears in a long text … then decided better of it and deleted the lot.

Jem: OK

I firmly set my phone down, forcing myself to focus on getting Luci’s cage cleaned and wrangling her back into it.

I didn’t have time or space to be worrying about whatever serious thing Ezra needed to talk to me about. I needed all my wits about me to navigate whatever Joe was going to throw at me over his brunch of toasted vegan rat dung, or whatever he thought constituted a meal.

“Shit!” I cursed as Luci scrambled away again. “I promise, if you just be a good girl today and get back in your cage, I’ll let you play all afternoon! I’ll … I’ll organise a ferrety playdate for tomorrow with Jonah! Just please don’t make me late for Joe!” I pleaded, grabbing her tail so she couldn’t scuttle away and reaching under with the other hand, scooping her (and about twelve dust bunnies and a sock I’d lost six months ago) out from under the TV cabinet.

With Luci safely locked away in her cage, I hurriedly rinsed myself under the shower, ignoring the fact that my hair was a riotous mess after the hospital escapades yesterday. I had no time for makeup, swiping a tube of pink lip gloss from the bathroom drawer as I rushed to my room and struggled into something that Joe wouldn’t disapprove of too much—a plain-coloured dress. It might have been neon orange, but at least it didn’t have toucans all over it.

Scraping my hair into a messy bun and securing it with a fluffy scrunchie, I slipped my feet into my least ratty pair of sneakers, snagged my car keys, blew a kiss through the laundry door to Luci, and was out the door.

* * *