Luciana was home when I got back. She didn’t have any classes on Mondays.
“When did you get home this morning?” Luciana asked from where she was working on her laptop in front of the TV. “I didn’t catch you before I left for my run.”
“Six-thirty. The usual time,” I shrugged as I kicked my shoes off by the door and joined her on the sofa. I propped my feet up on the coffee table and groaned, rolling my neck. “I’m so fucking tired.”
“You really need to stop working the night shift,” she hummed, still typing away at her laptop.
“But the money is so tempting,” I groaned. “I know you’re right, but I’m going to continue this until I can’t do it anymore. If I don’t, then I’m going to look back one day and think that I missed out on such a good opportunity.”
“Well, at least take a nap before you have to go back there tonight,” she sighed, turning to give me a pointed look.
“Already on it,” I chuckled and got up.
“With a shot of vodka?” Luciana scoffed, watching as I was already making my way to our small kitchen. “The best naps are those induced by alcohol.”
“Or those induced by orgasms,” Luciana grinned cheekily at me.
“Yes, Luce!” I grinned. “But unfortunately, I don’t have a boyfriend to help me with that, and my little toy unfortunately died working last night.”
“I didn’t need to know all that,” she grumbled, and her nose scrunched up in disgust.
I laughed at her reaction, not the least bit ashamed with how forthcoming I was with such information that people often believed to be far too personal to be said out loud in public.
“And my little friend dying on me is yet another reason I need these night shifts,” I laughed as my poured myself a double shot. “I need the money to buy myself a new vibrator,” I grinned before downing the drink in one.
“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Luciana laughed. “I made enough tacos at lunch and there’s quite a few that were left over if you’re interested in them for dinner later.”
“Since it means that I won’t have to cook, I’ll go for it, thanks,” I grinned. “But if I eat your tacos, what are you going to have for dinner?”
“I’m going out for dinner with Tony and some of his friends later, so feel free to have them all if you want.”
“You’re a literal lifesaver,” I blew Luciana a kiss before retreating to my room for that nap that I was so looking forward to.
My bedroom was small and nothing special, but it was my home away from home. There was a single bed pushed up against the wall, opposite from the window. My desk was placed facing the window, and there was a small wardrobe which could barely fit half my clothes at the end of my bed. The wooden floors were beautiful but cold in the morning, so I had a white rug laid out on the floor which somehow, I had managed to keep just as fluffy as it was when I first bought it at the beginning of last year.
I dropped my bookbag on the floor by my bed and stripped down to my underwear. If I wasn’t so tired, I would have taken them off as well before I slid into bed for a quick nap that wasn’t as quick as I would have liked it to be.
When I woke up from my nap later, it was just past six in the evening. It was a little later than I would have liked, but it still gave me some time to have a quick dinner and get some work done before I had to leave for my shift at ten.
But when did I ever care about being on time for anything? Especially work.
Luciana’s tacos were to die for, and I continuously praised her cooking while she got ready for date night with her boyfriend and his friends. I had met Tony – Anthony – before when he dropped by to see Luciana. For the most part, he was nice which in my opinion, was the problem. Tony was sweet. Sickly sweet. Sweet enough that his company was a bore to me, but I kept those opinions to myself.
Personally, I preferred my men a little bad and dangerous, someone with a little more edge to them. And that was probably why Luciana had a boyfriend of three years while I couldn’t keep a man for longer than three months. And trust me, I had tried. Multiple times.
When she left, I whipped out some textbooks and got started on my research for my case studies class. It was one of my favourite, mostly because I loved reading about cases which journalists had done in the past. Especially when they were crime cases like Fabrizio Mancini vs the deceased Nolan Hunstberg.
When the clock struck half nine, indicating that if I left now, I would only be a little late for work, I packed away my things, threw back another vodka shot for the road and headed out to the subway. The moment I stepped off it, my phone rang and when I glanced down at it, I realised that mama had called me three times in the past five minutes. This was the first one to go through as all the previous ones hadn’t gone through due to the terrible reception on the subway.
“Hi, mama,” I grinned as I picked up the phone, walking over to the airport which was only a few minutes away from the station. “How are you doing today?”
“You ask how I’m doing today, but what about every other day?” mama was quick to snap at me, sounding upset. “Why don’t you call me anymore, Yasemin? Your papa and I could have died, and you never would have known because you never call or come visit anymore.”
I wasn’t one to encourage stereotypes, but mama was the typical Russian overbearing mother.
“Mama,” I whined, unable to keep the large grin off my face. “I spent the weekend at home only a few weeks ago.”
“A few weeks feels like a lifetime when our children don’t visit you anymore.”
“Oh, mama. There’s no need to be dramatic.”
“When will you come back home, Yasemin? Come spend the weekend at home. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”
“Not this weekend, mama,” I shook my head. “I have plans with my friends on Saturday, and then I’m working on Sunday. But I promise to come home soon.”
“You always have plans with your friends, but never plans with your family,” mama huffed, and I could only imagine the petulant pout on her face right now.
“How is papa?” I chuckled, hoping to switch the subject.
“Here. Ask him yourself. Maybe he’ll be able to talk some sense into you,” she huffed again.
There some shuffling on the line for a few moments until papa’s voice sounded aloud.
“How are you doing, my sweet Yasemin?” my papa’s gruff voice spoke into the phone, his English thick. “Studying hard, I hope.”
“Yes, of course, papa,” I chuckled. “How are you doing?”
“I was doing well before your mama started glaring at me,” papa laughed.
“And why is she glaring at you? What have you done this time?” I asked.
“Thankfully, this time, it’s not me that she’s angry at. She’s glaring at me you’re not coming back home,” papa chuckled. “Both of your brothers have agreed to come stay the weekend. Why don’t you come back as well? It doesn’t have to be for the entire weekend. Maybe just for one day?”
I heard mama say something in the background and I could only assume that she wasn’t happy with the idea of me staying only a day. Either way, I wouldn’t be able to do that either. If I wasn’t working this Sunday, I would have but unfortunately, I was.
“I’m sorry, papa,” I frowned, starting to feel bad for saying no so many times. “I already told mama, but I can’t make it this weekend.”
“It’s fine, honey,” papa assured me with a light chuckle. “Enjoy yourself. Come see us another weekend.”
“I will, papa,” I promised and blew a kiss into the phone before he handed it back to mama who wanted to speak to me some more. I knew she was disappointed that I wasn’t coming home to see them this weekend, and after she whined about it to me some more, she was quick to move onto checking if I was taking care of myself, whether I was eating on time, if I was getting enough sleep or not, and so on.
As frustrating as mama could be sometimes, I loved her to bits and knew that she always meant well.
By the time I put down the phone after speaking to my parents, I had arrived at the airport, made it through security and was now moments away from stepping into Starbucks.
There was never a dull moment with my parents.
Immediately, my mood deflated at the fact that Massimo wasn’t waiting for me with his order for a vanilla latte, but I was quick to catch myself.
What was wrong with me? When did I ever get so fixated on a man like this? Especially a taken man.
-
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Layla Knight
23.01.2022
