XPLR | Colby Brock

~140~

While my new job with the orchestra of Miss Saigon was a fantastic gig, I still wouldn't be paid until the end of the month. Which means my first paycheck comes June 1. And considering that's sixteen days away, Mama and I are going to be very, very poor.

Mama sat on my lap as I typed on my lap top, and she meowed until I smiled and pet her forehead, then kissed it when she stood up a little bit on her hind legs. Mama and I were beginning to become good friends. "Momma would've thought you were cool. The real Momma. She's not around anymore, and I don't really know why." I told her.

I checked my bank account balance.

Current Balance: $12.34

Twelve dollars and thirty-four cents. Oh no.

I sat back in my seat and rubbed my eyes, pushing my hair behind my ear. "Mama," I said softly. She was beginning to understand her own name. "We're gonna have to start rationing what food we have. We're not gonna make the bills anyway..." I sigh, "this is how people go in debt, you know. Before you know it, we're going to be out on the streets."

I wasn't actually afraid of being on the streets, though. I may not have any family, or barely any friends, but there's one thing I know. Things will work out for me. Even if I end up on the streets, things will turn up for me.

For example. I grew up with a dead mother and an abusive father, but I got accepted to UCLA, and while living in Los Angeles I had the life and family I had always wanted. Then, when that fell through... I visited my hometown to get some answers and get an apology, and I got just that. I moved to New York where I was "taken care of" by a guy I met from a pit orchestra, who I'm practically dating. Then I got fired from my job at a bar (which was ironic considering my past), and when that fell through I got the chance of a life time and played with a real pit orchestra with Miss Saigon.

That's fate. Or just good luck. I'll take whichever.

"But if I had my way," I whispered to Mama, even though we're the only ones in the room. "Colby would be with me now," I said.

Even though Colby was a recurring thought in my mind, he wasn't as real as I felt he was. After all, the only interaction we've had in the last few months besides two phone calls and an impromptu unsolicited visitation in Oregon, all we've exchanged is a few texts.

I'm not as okay with that as I should be, considering I'm a girl who practically has a new boyfriend.

That's what me and Logan are, after all, Even if we've never discussed it. Speaking of...

There was a knock at the door, then it just opened. Logan entered, taking his bag off his shoulder. "It's starting to get warm outside. You know, me, you, Alan, and Julie need to get out there and do something," he said. "Let's go to Coney Island. Have you been to Coney Island?" he asked, walking over towards me. He leaned down and kissed my cheek, then rubbed Mama's ears. "No, I haven't," I said as I stood up, leaving Mama in my seat. Logan wrapped his arms around my waist and I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck, and he kissed me. "Let's go this weekend."

He pulled me into a hug and smiled, rocking me back and forth, "That is, if you have the chance, since you're in a big time pit orchestra now."

I chuckled, pulling away from him and sitting back on my bed. "I'm sure I'll have some free time in the mornings," I said. He kissed my forehead and sat down next to me. "Then this weekend, it's a p-" he started, but he stopped when my phone began to ring.

He reached over onto the dresser and found my phone, before I could tell him to stop and hand it to me, he saw the caller. And his face changed, then he looked at me. "Colby?" he asked. He ended the call and tossed my phone to the side. The tension in the air changed, and it looked like even Mama felt it, she hid beneath my chair.

"Why is Colby calling you?"

"He does that sometimes..." I said, shrugging. "I don't answer," I say. That's partly a lie. Partly. And that makes it better than a complete lie, right?

He paused, staring at me, as if he was reading my thoughts. "I hope so," he said, and that was all. He reached for my phone again, though, and he began typing something. "No, Logan," I said as I moved closer to him, looking over his shoulder. "I'm just telling him to leave you alone," he said, "you're with me now. Aren't you?"

"Yes-" I started, talking on a whim. "Then there's no problem with him leaving him alone," he interrupted me. "Logan-"

"Have you forgotten what he did to you? Because I haven't," he said. I looked in his eyes, searching between them. There was nothing but sincerity and care in his eyes. "I hated seeing you so sad like that. Okay?" he asked, "I don't want to see you like that, ever again." He got up and walked towards the front door. "Listen, come on," he said, standing up. I'm hungry. You're hungry. We'll feel better after we eat," he said, holding his hand out for me to take.

We slept together that night. I woke up, and there was more guilt weighing on me now than there ever was before.

Logan was still asleep next to me, half naked from the night before. I grabbed my clothes, checked the time. Beneath the clock on my phone was two notifications. A response to the text Logan sent and another missed call, both from Colby.

Logan's text was as follows: Leave her alone, dude. She's not interested. I didn't like that he was speaking for me. But... even if it's a little deceitful... I will be contacting Colby again. I'm my own woman. I can do whatever the hell I want.

But guilt still plagued me. I woke up Logan just to tell him goodbye, and I stalked back to my apartment.

I was greeted by a surprise when I opened my front door.

Everything from my dresser was shoved off and scattered, the chair was tipped over, the cabinets were opened and some of the bags were broken into, especially the cat food bag. But worst of all was my piano keyboard, the same one my mother gave me. It must've been imbalanced when Mama jumped up there, because it was in pieces on one side of the room. Keys scattered about, the back panels and cords broken and pulled out of socket.

"Mama!" I whine, looking down at her as she rubbed against my legs. I nudged her away rather aggressively. "Move," I grumbled at her and walked around her, straight to my piano. I knelt down beside it and started to cry. I couldn't repair this. Mama rubbed at my legs. I pushed her away. "Move!" I said, flipping the piano over, and more pieces fell out. "Mama, how am I supposed to pay for this?" I asked. "I can barely feed you! Do you know how important this was to me?"

A paper slipped out. I stared down at it for a few seconds, confused. It must be the owner's manual. Maybe it can tell me how to put it back together. It was just one piece of paper.

I opened it. There were numbers everywhere. LILY ANNE ROMANO.

I stared at my mother's name. I glanced down at the number last in line, in bold. $50,000.

This is a life insurance policy.

My breath was stolen from me. Mama slipped into my lap again, and I was too shocked this time to push her away.

This... this is why she killed herself.

Momma did it for me. She hid it where she knew I would find it one day. With the one thing she and I shared the most: piano.

I started to cry. "Thanks, Mama." I said to the cat.

Thanks, Momma. That was for my mother. Maybe there was a universal reason we named the cat the way we did.

On the back, though, was a letter. Or rather, a few words.