Ropes and Lace | MM Romance PREVIEW

Chapter 1 - Accept Me

I scowl at the pile of letters stacked in front of my dirty, worn-out sneakers, still puffing and sweating profusely from my morning run, wishing I had the power to shoot laser beams from my eyes to incinerate them until nothing but ashes remain. They all have red stamps and capitalized words, of course, because that's what my life has been reduced to in the last year thanks to quarantine and the sudden, but devastating outbreak of the unmentionable virus. There's nothing better to start the day than reading unpaid debt notices and threats of eviction. I haven't even had my first cup of coffee, damn it. I groan, helpless and discouraged, bending down to pick them up and toss them carelessly into my modest dining table, heading up the narrow stairs to my room.

"Spaghetti?" I call, because she's not in her bed, where I left her sleeping peacefully this morning before going for a run.

I'm not surprised when her furry, snow-white head emerges from between the bulge of my dark sheets, blinking sleepily and looking innocent. Even though I've reprimanded her on several occasions for skirting the rules of personal space, I can't help but laugh and deny amused by her boldness and that she has the balls (or ovaries... because female ferrets have them, right?) to not give a damn about the consequences of her shenanigans. It wouldn't hurt me to catch a little of her attitude.

I check that her bowls are full of food and water, clean her trash out of the box and pour in more sand. The bag is almost empty and I do a quick calculation, trying to remember my bank balance to determine if I have enough to buy another one or if I should starve this week too. I close my eyes and focus on happy, positive thoughts, because it's either that or cry and I refuse to give in to the despair that has been breathing down my neck like a pervert when out there, maybe, an opportunity is waiting for me.

«I just have to be patient, that's all,» I repeat for the thousandth time in my mind with fragile optimism.

"We've been over this, missy," I pick her up, stroking her soft, thick fur, placing her gently in her nest built with a soft cushion and a fluffy pink blanket with black polka dots. "This is where you're supposed to sleep, so be a good girl and stay," I point to her, putting on my best stern expression. Her response is to sniff my finger with disinterest, then curl up into a ball and proceed to ignore me.

I sigh, taking defeat, I've never been able to beat her in an argument. I undress, depositing my soaked clothes in the laundry basket and lock myself in the bathroom. The shower is brief, but satisfying, sweeping the dirt and perspiration from my skin and hair. I stand under the crystal clear waterfall for a few extra minutes, analyzing the alternatives of my precarious situation. My previous agency had to "let me go" (that's how the kindly HR manager put it) due to the sudden economic downturn in the country, kicking my poor unsuspecting ass to the curb, without a plan B or life preserver. It was tough, but it got worse as slowly and agonizingly my pockets were being emptied without me being able to do anything about it.

Urgently looking for an instant solution to such a catastrophe, I discovered Internet pages where I could upload my photographs to sell or auction them, but with that pitiful income I barely have just enough to survive and provide for Spaghetti. Who would think that the nice Californian citizens aren't big fans of images with landscapes and natural panoramas? And too bad that's precisely my area of expertise. My parents have assured me that I can move back in with them whenever I want, but just imagining their constant invasions of my privacy and intrusive interrogations, even with the good intentions they claim, gives me chills and a headache for which I have no painkillers.

I love my parents, but physical distance is a much-needed strategy I have used for as long as I can remember so that the relationship between us doesn't die or wither.

I turn off the faucet, disappointed at not having been able to find a fix to this stage that I pray is temporary, and get a towel from the rack on the wall to dry off, tying it around my waist when I'm done. In my closet, I decide on sweatpants and a simple t-shirt, descending to the kitchen to prepare my breakfast. A whole wheat sandwich with turkey and a glass of skim milk later, I sit at my tiny, wobbly desk, turning on my laptop to check my social media and other accounts where I have my artwork on display. I stop the sadness from settling on my shoulders as I spot the zeros on each of them, shaking my arms as if I can bodily rid myself of the harmful and frustrating feelings.