Renovated Heart

Chapter 1-2

At the top of the steps leading to her apartment, Joanne saw a white piece of paper wedged between her door knob and the jamb. Her first thought was a maintenance notice—a scheduled filter change, or maybe the water would be off for a few hours the next morning, something like that. She carried a briefcase in one hand, a paper bag and soda from Hardee’s in the other. Her purse swung precariously from her shoulder. Shifting her dinner into the crook of her arm, she plucked out the paper with her free hand and shook it open.

It wasn’t from maintenance. It was from Miranda. Damn.

Came to get my mail, the letter read, the words written in harsh script. Should’ve known you wouldn’t be here when you said you would. Six o’clock my ass. I waited twenty minutes and then said the hell with it. This is why we didn’t work out. Next time leave my stuff with the rental office and I’ll pick it up there. M

Dull anger rose in Joanne and she crumpled the note in her fist. f**k Miranda. Joanne hadn’t said she’d meet her at six—she said she’d try. They’d lived together for five and half years, so it should have come as no surprise when Joanne had to work late. She always worked late, or so Miranda liked to think. If she needed her mail so badly, the b***h should’ve had the post office forward it when she moved out.

I am not going to let her get to me tonight, Joanne thought as she fumbled for her keys. It wasn’t as if Miranda had any real mail waiting for her, anyway. Just a handful of bills Joanne knew she paid online and maybe an envelope of coupons from her mother. Nothing earth-shattering.

Still, I could’ve let her know I was running late…

No, Joanne wouldn’t let herself go there, not after the crappy day she’d had. When had she had time to text Miranda? And if Miranda was waiting so damn long, why didn’t she call and let Joanne know? She probably only waited five minutes, tops. For all Joanne knew, Miranda could’ve had the note written up ahead of time. How’d she put it? Should’ve known you wouldn’t be here…This is why we didn’t work out.

Inside her apartment, with the door locked behind her, Joanne muttered, “f**k you, Mir-ran-da. I don’t need to deal with your s**t on top of everything else. You left, remember? So you don’t get to nag me anymore.”

Miranda. If there had been a time when Joanne had loved her, it was so far in the past now, neither of them could even remember it. They had only dated a few months before deciding to move in together, though when Joanne thought back, she realized it had actually been Miranda calling the shots from the start. Miranda’s lease was up and she didn’t want to renew, so she’d suggested moving into Joanne’s place, and stupidly Joanne had said, why not?

“I’ll tell you why not,” she groused, tossing her briefcase onto the dining room table. She took the bag from Hardee’s into the tiny kitchen and put her burger and fries on a plate. It made the fast food dinner feel less desperate somehow. “Because this is a one bedroom apartment and you just piled all your crap in here on top of mine, and you had that damn yappy little dog from hell that liked to s**t on my bathroom rugs.”

The note in Miranda’s prissy handwriting brought it all back.

Suddenly Joanne wanted something stronger than the Diet Coke with too much ice in the plastic cup from Hardee’s. There was a bottle of fruity red wine in the bottom cabinet, something a friend had brought over for a dinner party a year or so ago, when things were still going well between Joanne and Miranda. A full glass would be the perfect way to unwind, after the day Joanne had. One little glass…

But she took the bottle with her to the sofa, and by the time she finished her burger, she was onto her second glass. Vaguely she wondered if she should recork the rest, then refilled her glass a third time. When she stood, the room seemed to sway around her, and a faint throb started somewhere behind her eyes. She felt so damn tired, but at least she was no longer thinking about her clients, or Miranda. Too bad it was too early to go to bed.

Maybe a couple Benadryl would help her relax. It would be morning all too soon. Two Benadryl couldn’t hurt.

Swallowing the little pink pills with her last swig of wine, Joanne barely made it to the bedroom before sleep overcame her. She sprawled gracelessly across her bed, still fully dressed, already starting to snore.