Lover | S.R.

Spencer

"Are you sure about this?" Ophelia asks, looking back at me with embarrassment lacing her features. "I really don't want to impose—"

"Of course, I'm sure! Why didn't you tell me?" I frown at her, a bit hurt that she didn't feel like she could come to me with something as big as this.

Her apartment complex jacked her rent prices up so high that she couldn't pay, just to get her out. So, upon being evicted, she put nearly everything she owned into a storage unit and has been living in her car for a nearly a month.

A month. In the winter.

My friend shakes her head. "I don't know. I guess I just... I didn't want you to feel bad. I also didn't want you to feel like you have to put me up, y'know?"

"I don't have to, I want to. I can't believe you've been sleeping in a car for the last month."

She just shrugs. "You gotta do what you gotta do."

"You didn't have to, you just don't like asking for help," I tell her matter-of-factly. "You wouldn't have ever told me."

I had to find out after going to her apartment to surprise her with takeout and being greeted by an elderly man that had moved in. I called Ophelia after that and she spilled what had happened. Now, we're eating that takeout dinner on the floor in my apartment.

She doesn't say anything in response to my comments. She knows I'm right.

She's too prideful to admit that she needs help.

"So... after we eat, I'll help you carry your clothes and blankets in. Y'know, and whatever else you've got in your car," I give her a reassuring smile. "Plus, I think that an apartment here is opening up soon. I could put in a good word with my landlord... maybe you could move into it?"

She just blows out a sigh. "It'd probably be tight, but... I guess we'll see. In the meantime, how much should I give you—"

"You're not paying me anything to stay on my couch, Lia."

"But I feel like I should give you something."

I just shake my head at her. "Save your money so that you can get a new place, okay?"

"Alright," Lia nods.

I met Ophelia a little over a year ago. We were on the subway and she wasn't holding onto anything. She fell into my lap and apologized by buying me a cup of coffee. On that impromptu coffee date, we hit it off. She told me all about how she'd just moved to D.C. and that it was her first time riding the subway. She didn't think that she actually had to hold on to anything. I remember it like it was yesterday, watching her fall. It was comical, but not in that moment. Her (then) very long, dark brown hair was underneath her black, hand-knit scarf. Her jacket was army green and a bit tattered. It hung loose on her. When we sat down in a coffee shop, she took off her jacket, revealing an old-looking, baggy Space Jam shirt, partly tucked into her dark gray jeans. The ensemble was tied together with black leather combat boots, which were also a bit worn-in. I liked her style right away, along with the way that she carried herself and the way she presented herself to the world. She's confident, but kind and soft spoken at the same time. She does look intimidating, but when she laughs and smiles... not at all.

After talking for maybe fifteen minutes, we exchanged numbers. I never thought we'd come to be such great friends.

She's two years younger than me and still in college getting her BFA in Cinema.

She works six days a week, she goes to school half of those days, and on the days she doesn't go to school, she'll be doing school work on her computer.