A matter of wife or death

3

Past tense

"Ida, you're late again. If I have to tell you one more time, I’ll dock your

wages!" Rob’s voice cuts through the air, stern and sharp. His arms are

crossed tightly, and I feel the familiar burn of frustration rise inside me,

though I manage to keep my face calm. The bus was late, my alarm didn't

go off, and to top it off, we got stuck behind a road sweeper. But of

course, I didn’t text or call because that weirdo with the mullet from last

night smashed my phone to bits.

"I'm sorry, but my phon—" I begin, trying to explain, to at least make him

understand this wasn’t laziness or carelessness.

“Ah, ah, ah. I don’t want to hear it, Ida. On time, thank you!” he snaps,

cutting me off before I can even finish. I press my lips together and nod,

shoulders sagging as I shuffle away into the staff room. Finally, I let out

the breath I've been holding. My handbag slips from my hand onto the

bench as I drop into the nearest chair, letting the weight of the morning

sink in.

I glance down at my wrist, catching sight of the ugly, ragged scar that has

become a permanent part of me—remnants of a time when someone else

controlled me. Without thinking, I dig my nails into the flesh just below it,

feeling the scratch beneath the surface. The sting brings me back to the

present.

"Ida? Ida, you in here?" Cherry's voice jolts me, and I pull my plaid shirt

sleeve down quickly, hiding the scar. She pops her head around the corner,

all bright and bubbly.

“There you are! You left early this morning," she says, her smile easy and

cheerful as always.

I nod, offering a small, forced smile back. "Yeah, needed to clear my head,"

I lie, or at least partially. The truth is, her restless shuffling and quiet

sobbing in her sleep had woken me up again, and I had to get out of the

apartment.

"Oh, okay. This flat share thing is working out, right?" Cherry asks a slight

note of uncertainty creeping into her voice. She always sounds a bit unsure

when she talks about our living situation like she’s waiting for me to back

out or leave her stranded.

I force myself to smile wider. "Why wouldn’t it be? You’re the coolest

roommate," I say, even though she’s the only roommate I’ve ever had. The

reality is, I’d rather live alone if I could afford it.

"You're very distant, Ida," Cherry observes as if it’s a revelation. She says it

lightly, but I can feel the weight of her words.

I shrug. “I’ve been told.” A faint bitterness slips into my voice, memories

of teachers and counsellors urging me to “open up” flooding back. I

learned early on that opening up leads to vulnerability, and vulnerability

makes you a target.

Cherry opens her mouth to say something else, but Blue bursts into the

room before she can continue. "Oh my god, mullet dude’s friend is back!"

he exclaims, eyes wide with mock horror.

My heart skips a beat. "He is? Why? I didn’t peg him as a day drinker." I’m

already tying my black apron around my skinny jeans, trying to act

nonchalant, though my stomach twists into knots.

"I don't think he is. He asked for you." Blue gives me a look that’s a mix of

curiosity and amusement, and my eyes go wide.

"Tell him I’m not here," I mumble, hoping to avoid any more awkward

encounters.

"What? No! He’s the first guy that doesn’t want to f**k you. Not that you’d

let him—prude!" Blue teases, laughing as I roll my eyes at him.

"Am I supposed to be flattered by that?" I ask dryly, adjusting my apron.

Cherry chimes in with a playful grin. "Come on, he's probably just here to

apologise for his i***t friend’s behaviour last night. What’s the worst that

could happen?"

I stand there for a moment, weighing my options. My mind is already

racing with all the possible negative outcomes, but Cherry and Blue both

seem to think it’s harmless. I shrug and step out of the staff room, heading

to the bar.

"Hi," I say bluntly as I approach the tall, dark-haired guy from last night.

He’s leaning against the bar, looking far too casual and confident. There’s

got to be something wrong with him, right? Maybe a stalker? Bad at s*x?

Mommy issues?

"I wanted to apologise about Jack," he says, offering me a disarming smile.

I shrug. "It's my job—drunk assholes are part of the deal," I say, trying to

brush it off like it's nothing.

"Well, I wanted to give you this." He reaches into a bag and pulls out an

iPhone box.

I stare at it, then at him. "You bought me a new phone?" I raise an

eyebrow, scepticism evident in my tone.

"After what Jack pulled, I kinda owe you one, don't you think?" He leans

on the bar, looking far too pleased with himself.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Let me guess, you already programmed your

number in it?"

He chuckles. "No, but should I have?"

I feel a small flicker of embarrassment. "Sorry, that was rude. I shouldn’t

assume."

"It’s fine," he says smoothly, pausing to glance at my name tag. "Ida," he

adds, with that same infuriating smile.

"I'm Tom." He extends a hand toward me. Reluctantly, I take it, feeling the

contrast between his large, firm grip and my much smaller hand.

"Nice to meet you, Tom," I say, the words awkwardly tumbling out as I

quickly let go of his hand.

"About the phone... I actually bought a new one last night, but thanks

anyway," I say, handing the box back to him.

Tom raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. "You don’t seem like the type to

buy the latest iPhone outright."

"You don’t seem like the type to judge people based on their appearance," I

shoot back, narrowing my eyes at him.

He smirks. "I saw you flagging down a bus last night."

I cross my arms defensively. "So? My car could’ve been in the shop."

"Was it?" he asks, that smug smile still playing on his lips.

"No, I don’t have a car. What’s it to you? Are you some kind of stalker?" I

glare at him, half-joking but also half-serious.

"No, I just thought I’d make things right with the phone," he says, pushing

the bag toward me again.

"Fine, thanks." I mutter, taking the phone out of the box, the weight of it

heavy in my hands.

"Thought you said you had a phone?" he teases, his eyes gleaming with

amusement as I turn to leave.

"I lied. I couldn’t afford one." I glance back at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Thought you said you didn’t put your number in?"

He winks, his smile widening. "I lied too."

With that, he turns and walks out. A moment later, Cherry and Blue

emerge from the staff room, watching him leave.

"If you don't f**k him, I will," Blue declares with a smirk.

I roll my eyes, trying to hide the flush creeping up my cheeks. "Shh, you!"

Cherry just laughs, the sound echoing in the empty bar.