Current Date: June 22, 2024
Current Song: Let Me Down Slowly
Character: Kyrie Reed
Race: Human
Age: 22
Current residence: Warwick, New York
I’ve let the card Silvius gave me burn through my wallet for as long as I could. That being: it took little more than a day before I was looking it over. A lot of people probably think they have me all figured out, but they couldn’t be any more wrong. They might have a thing or two figured out, but all those little details that can usually be found in any picture you look at? Yeah, they’re missing all those.
All I could do was wait until Carlotta was fast asleep before I got the card from my wallet. I wasn’t even sure it would have been safe there; she’s gone through my wallet before. It happened just a couple of weeks ago and that one’s on me, it usually is on me as is, I know. I’d gotten tickets for her to go to that concert she’s been raving about, and I tried to keep it from her, so she’d be surprised when I brought them out. She doesn’t really like surprises and the rest is history, on that.
At least she’s still going to that concert with her best friend; I told her to take anyone she wanted, and she didn’t even hesitate. That’s okay, I don’t really like that kind of music. I’m just happy that she was pleased with the near-front-row seats. I know she would have preferred the full-front experience but those were sold out.
The card was really simple. Just a name and a title: Agathe Areleous, psychologist. There was a number at the back and in small print, the whole thing about privacy and that there were no set hours but if a call was missed, a call-back would come as soon as possible. That one was weird to me a little.
It was close to ten at night when I called. It felt wrong to call some stranger this late into the evening, but she answered on the second ring. It’s like she was expecting me. Her voice was soothing as we just talked about basic things. She gave me the means of getting in touch with her via text and email and I’ve spoken to her via this video call app twice.
I apologized to her the first time for that video call, it was nearly nine this time around and she told me it was fine; that it wasn’t unusual, and she took the calls when they came because not everyone could manage calls during the day time. It made me feel just a smidge better but still not great.
I promised her that I’d try to text when I could, but my phone isn’t really safe from Carlotta. That’s why I opted for the video calls, there are no traces of those, at least not on my end. It’s not that I’m trying to hide things from her but who am I lying to, I know I am and while I bet that I could be judged for being a bad partner for it, there’s just so much more to the story.
Carlotta was the first person to enter my life after my parents moved us into Warwick. I was seven, I was a shy child, but I was a people pleaser, I still am but I’m trying to move on from that, it’s really hard. Saying yes to people is just… it’s easier.
She lived across the street. She was my age, just a little tiny slip of a girl, even next to me at that age, and I was a skinny kid. I learned some years down that she’d had some health issues when she was younger still and that it had kept her from growing at a proper rate. She’s still a tiny woman but she’s fierce.
So, my first few school years were mostly spent with her, she took care of me, and I tried to take care of her in turn. In whatever way kids take care of one another. In high school, she changed a little but maybe I imagined it, she was always at my side and while I did notice her giving the side-eye to a lot of the people that I spent time with, I didn’t think much of it.
Because yeah, I became a bit of a social butterfly through high school, I always had an extra bit of energy in me, I was nearly bouncing off the walls at times—I’m medicated for that now and let me tell you, better late than never—so not everyone seemed comfortable with having me around. That just meant that I cherished the few that did doubly so.
When we graduated, it just made sense that we moved in together. We’d been dating since… well I don’t know when, exactly. It just sort of was assumed that we were dating, and Carlotta was constantly telling everyone we were. It started when we were thirteen, I think. I never really argued. I liked that thought, in a way. It made me feel like I was doing something right.
So, we found an apartment, we moved in together, and I held odd jobs until I found my footing in the digital art world. I’d been doing digital art for a couple of years at this point; I hadn’t been great at the beginning but who ever is? I practised, I worked hard and eventually, I got a few commissions. They didn’t pay great, not at first, but after a year or so post-graduation, I was pulling in commissions that actually paid the bills and paid them well.
Carlotta’s never worked a day in her life. Her parents drop an allowance for her every week. That allowance is almost more than I make monthly. I don’t know what she does with that particular allowance.
From the moment we moved in together, she made it clear that it wasn’t just my finances or hers, it was ours, so yeah, joint bank accounts, both names on the lease and all. Though getting my name on the lease was a little like pulling teeth, Carlotta got on my case about that for close to six months.
I’d say that almost ninety percent of the money in the joint account comes from my commissions. I should know, I have to check it every time a payment is about to go through just to be sure it won’t bounce. The vast majority of the time, the influx into the account comes from me. Carlotta takes money from there, but she does drop about that, ten percent of the whole, when her parents give her that allowance. I know she gets more than she drops in the account, but I don’t want to fight with her about it.
There’s so much more that could be added to this. I could ramble for days, but I feel that doing that would make me look like an asshole who can’t appreciate a good thing.
The thing though is that I know this isn’t a good thing. I’m not as blind to it as people seem to think. I’m not. I know Carlotta isn’t good for me. Over time, she managed to cut me off from the other people I saw as my friends. I haven’t seen or heard from my parents in years. Mom would probably welcome me back if I told her I needed to come stay at the house for a little while, but Dad wouldn’t.
When we moved out after graduation, he had this hard look in his eyes, like he knew I was making a mistake, but he was keeping his mouth shut for the sake of Mom. I can’t go back home; it would cause issues.
I can’t find another apartment because, well, technically speaking, thanks to that joint account, I don’t really have any money to my name and my name alone. I have no credit score. We got the apartment because Carlotta’s parents pulled strings.
Sure, those were all things I willfully ignored back when it was all happening and I didn’t care, I just wanted Carlotta to be happy with me and what I was doing. Talking to Agathe has opened my eyes to a lot of things that I’d put blinders on to ignore but…
…there’s only so much I can do currently. I can’t just head into a shelter; I can’t leave my art supplies—my computer, the monitor, the tablet and everything else that I’ve paid with my own hard-earned money—behind. They’re the reason the bills are being paid, even though Carlotta belittles that at every chance she gets.
If I leave, I know she’ll have no issues with just trashing everything and that’s thousands of dollars worth of equipment that I’ve tried to get insured but I wouldn’t be able to afford it. She’s right when she says that at some point, my art’s not going to cut it anymore and I might have to turn to adult-related artwork to get by. If it comes to that, it will. She’ll just remind me even more often about how much what I do is worthless and gross and filthy.
But that’s okay. I have a roof over my head, I have food in my belly and a bed to call my own most of the time. I’m sorry if I’ve ever hurt anyone by cutting contacts, though, I really am.
Works of JD Beckett 