Topsy Turvy Kinda Love
in Ithaca, New York?”“Honestly, a dart on a map.” Thinking about it makes unease creep into my chest. The compound has a group of guys that work as security, looking for anyone who might try to escape the clutches of their reach. Anyone who might share the secrets and inner workings of the assembly. It’s why I ran in the middle of the night with just a duffel bag to my name.
But at this point, I’m a lost soul, spiritually dead. I no longer have the Lord’s protection, and I’m supposed to have a life of misery. I’m gone to the outside world of sinners and non-believers. I didn’t leave a way to trace myself. Plus, once you leave, you’re shunned for good. They’ve disowned me.
“So, it’s just you?”
“Yep, family and I cut ties a while ago.” I don’t tell her the real reason.
“Huh,” is the only thing that comes from her mouth. I’m glad that she doesn’t continue to question me about it. I feel like maybe she’d feel the same way if I started asking her questions. We’ve both worked at Topsy Turvy for a year, but I still feel like I don’t know anything about her life, which is obvious. I had no idea that she was a painter or a sculptor. I didn’t know either that she was amazing at it. It makes me wonder why she works at the bar when she’s got this much talent.
“So, what about you?” I ask getting the attention off of me. “Have you lived here your whole life?”
Her small smile lights the corners of her face. Happy memories blooming, hopefully. “Nope, I moved here for Cornell and ended up staying for my best friend. I love it here.”
Her words give me a sense of hope. A sense that this life could be mine. That I could fit into a place that is as supportive and charming as this college town. It’d be something I’ve never felt—the feeling of belonging and being one with a group of people.
My confidence since I got here has definitely grown. Back home, I was taught what to say and what not to say and if you spoke out, chances were you’d come to regret it. So, I’d learned to stand back and not say anything. People here speak their minds and say what they want. I feel like I’ve started doing it more than I used to, except for when it comes to Mia. I certainly stumble all over myself with her.
“I’m glad you fit in this town, Mia. Topsy Turvy would certainly be lost without you. Eddie wouldn’t know what to do without his best bartender.”
“Psshhhhhh…. I think you give me a run for my money, Brooks.”
I shake my head and smile. She fits in here like a glove and thinking about gloves makes me think about wanting her mouth fitting around me like a glove. I feel like such a pervert being around her so much. I’m afraid that if we ever slept together, my inner caveman would come out, and I’d say things I couldn’t take back. Mia makes me feel like a teenage boy again. Like I’m ready to explode at any moment.
“So,” she says, her voice bringing me out of my sick thoughts and back to the present. “Why bartending?”
“Believe it or not, many people don’t want to hire someone who has little more than a high school diploma. I have zero past work experience. All my education was done within the compound, so no schooling records. Eddie was the first guy that offered me a job and I figured it seemed like something I could pick up easily.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “Do you not like bartending?”
I shrug. “I like it. The tips are good, decent, but I don’t think I want to do this for the rest of my life. At some point, I’d like to be able to support a family, and you know what they say, knowledge is power.”
“I get it. I probably won’t work at Topsy Turvy forever, but I’m not sure what else I would do.”
My eyes fly again to the painting on the wall I’d studied earlier. “I know what you would be really good at… have you ever sold your art?”
“No, didn’t think anyone would ever be able to appreciate it as much as I do. Each piece of art is a part of my soul and selling it would be like letting go of my child, especially if the person that bought it one day decided they didn’t like it. It would break my heart.”
Mia glances over at the clock. “Shit, I gotta go. First, more ground rules,” she says and taps her chin. “Use whatever you want. I’m not super picky about my stuff. Um…. What else?” She snaps her fingers before continuing. “Hmm… Oh, if you decide to have people over, a heads up is appreciated. If you’re getting jiggy with it, put a sock on the door. Please only masturbate in your room and if you do, at least close the door. Or don’t. If I come home and you’re jerking it with the door open, I’ll assume it’s an open invitation to join you.”
My eyes grow to the size of saucers as I look at her, confused as to whether she’s shitting with me or actually being serious. I bark out a laugh, and she pauses giving me a weird look. “What’s funny?”
“The fact that you think I’d have a party and not invite you… or that you think I would be getting jiggy, not sure what that means, with someone else.”
Her creamy white cheeks blush. “Well, the option is definitely open.”
I nod my head. “Duly noted.”
“We work opposite shifts, so the likelihood of us bumping into each other is slim. It’ll be like having your own place most of the time.”
My heart sinks. The whole point of this arrangement was to be near her. I rub at the hole in my heart, forming in my chest cavity