Kali walked over to the house next door, knocked a couple of times. She knew that Julian wasn’t home—she was taking a couple days off, and wouldn’t be home until tonight. But she knocked, anyway. Then she turned the key and walked in.
Chilly in here! Taj greeted her at the door. “Taj! Hey, baby! Are you staying warm?”
She checked the cat’s food, rinsed and refilled the water dish, and cleaned the litter box. Then she sat on the loveseat and stroked him for a while, played with the toy mouse, then simply enjoyed being alone in an adult’s house.
She innocently snooped in the desk area, noticed a bill from the electric company, read a couple of Julian’s Post-it reminders. She pretended for a few minutes that this was her place, that she was a working woman, that she could stay up as late as she liked, could have parties and wine and boyfriends.
She opened the fridge and bent at the waist like they do on TV, even though her height made that unnecessary. Soymilk, cranberry juice, bananas, wheat bread, English muffins, raspberry jam. When I grow up, I’m gonna drink soymilk. I’m gonna put my bananas in the fridge.
Later, she reported to her mom that everything was in order, that the kitty was fine. Then she went to her room and arranged things on her desk as Julian did, substituting tests—which she folded horizontally in thirds—for bills. She grabbed her drinking glass from the bathroom and filled it with a couple pens, a stubby pencil, and a marker. She wrote herself a little reminder to buy Post-it notes.
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