Dreams Can Come True

32. Home Alone

With a slight shiver, I turned the key in the lock of the apartment and pushed the door open. Before stepping inside, I glanced over my shoulder once more, a final check to ensure that the girl hadn't secretly followed me. But my searching eyes found only the familiar sight of the deserted street.
I shook my head to push away my worries and stepped into the apartment. The lights were still off, and silence filled the space, with no sign of life in sight. With a sigh, I clicked on the light switch, bathing the room in light.
As I walked through the empty space, it dawned on me that Bill and Tom were not yet home. Their absence added a touch of loneliness to the otherwise familiar environment.
At that moment, my phone began to buzz, catching me slightly off guard. "Speak of the devil," I murmured softly to myself as I picked up the phone.
"Hey, Bill," I greeted him.
"Hey, Elise," his voice sounded on the other end of the line. A soft smile spread across my lips as I heard his voice. "Are you home yet?" he asked, his tone expectant.
As I pressed the phone firmly against my ear, I looked around the apartment room. My eyes scanned over the familiar furniture and decorations, but there was a hint of unfamiliarity in the air, as if the space didn't quite welcome me. "Yes, I'm in the apartment," I replied, taking in my surroundings.
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, a silence that seemed to fill the space between us with a certain tension. Then Bill spoke again, his voice slightly softer than before. "Oh, good to hear," he said, but I could hear a hint of disappointment in his tone, as if he had hoped I would say I was home, not just in the apartment.
"Sorry," Bill continued, "but we have to work a little longer today. I'm sorry, honey."
I shook my head, even though he couldn't see me. "No problem, sweetheart," I replied sincerely. "I'll manage fine here. Just focus on your work, and I'll see you tonight."

I slowly opened the refrigerator door and let my gaze roam over the well-stocked fridge, looking for something refreshing. As the cold air from the fridge blew on my face, an uncomfortable feeling crept over me. The realization that I hadn't actually contributed to the groceries in this fridge hit me like a stab in the heart. Everything here, every item my eyes met, was paid for by Bill and Tom. They had welcomed me into their home and taken care of me as if I were family, but it still felt like a burden on my shoulders.
My habit of always taking care of myself, of forging my own path and bearing my own responsibility, clashed with the reality of this moment. Accepting things from others had always been a stumbling block for me. It felt like an infringement on my sense of independence, a reminder that I couldn't fully take care of myself. Like in my world, where we had to go to the food bank because we were financially so poor. The memory of those difficult times sent a shiver down my spine. It was a period of shame, of feelings of helplessness and dependency. A time when I promised myself that I would never again find myself in that situation, that I would always be able to take care of myself, regardless of the circumstances.
No, I could and had to stand on my own two feet. Accepting help felt like a defeat, an acknowledgment of weakness that I couldn't accept. I had learned to be strong, to carve out my own path in a world that could sometimes be ruthless. And while Bill and Tom's help was welcome, it also brought an inner struggle, a fight between my desire for independence and my need for acceptance and support.
My eyes scanned the bottles of soda, the rows of yogurt, the stack of vegetables and fruits. Each item seemed to scream that I didn't belong here, that I didn't have the right to take without giving. But then my gaze fell on the package of foil, and a small smile broke through my worried thoughts.
Bill or Tom had wrapped up the leftover pancakes this morning and stored them in the fridge. It was a gesture of care, of attention to the little things, and it touched me deeply. It wasn't just the fact that they had saved the leftovers, but it was the thought behind it, to prevent food waste.
Although I wasn't hungry anymore after eating with Bas in the studio, I suddenly got an idea of what I could do with the pancakes before they spoiled.
I grabbed my phone and quickly ordered a taxi. While waiting for the taxi, I grabbed the package of foil and closed the fridge door. I was determined to do something nice with the leftovers, as a way to show my gratitude for Bill and Tom always being so welcoming.
A little later, I got into the taxi, clutching the package of foil tightly in my hands. I gave Simone and Gordon's address to the driver and leaned back in the seat, excited about the surprise visit I had in store for them.