PULSE

(twentythree) january 24

(TWENTYTHREE) JANUARY 24

"What exactly do you think you're doing, Freeloader? Do you expect me to run the shop by myself? Should I cook and clean the tables and take orders and everything on my own?" the Old Lady demanded through the phone.

I squinted at the ceiling, rubbing my forehead with my free hand.

"Yeah, I don't think I'm going to come in anymore," I said flatly.

The Old Lady paused for a moment. She seemed unsure of what to say next, and I'd never heard her unsure before.

"You're quitting?"

"I guess."

"Then you should do it properly. Come into the shop and do it to my face."

"No," I snapped suddenly. A sharp pain thudded against my chest, and I winced. "No, I'm quitting. Why should I care what you think of it anymore?"

"Be a man and quit in person, Aidan."

"Stop telling me what to do!" I shouted. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that I was yelling, and that I had no right to, from where I was, laying in my bed, purposefully ignoring my shift at work. I knew it, but I didn't want to acknowledge it. "Stop acting like you own me! I'm not your property. I'm not your grandson. I'm not even your employee anymore. So stop telling me how to live my life."

"Aidan."

I covered my eyes with my arm, grimacing against my own skin. "What? What is it now?"

She sighed through the phone. "Come to work. You need it."

I laughed bitterly—a laugh that reminded me of Melanie. "Stop talking."

"Aidan—"

I scoffed, ending the call and tossing my phone onto the mattress next to me. I didn't notice Lev waiting in the doorway of my bedroom until he spoke.

"You're just hanging up on people now?" he asked.

"What'd you do, get your own key for my place? Did someone invite you here?" I snapped irritably.

"You think I still need your permission to come?" he countered, raising an eyebrow. "I made a copy of the key so I could keep an eye on your sorry ass."

"This is breaking and entering."

"I haven't broken anything yet."

"Get out, Lev."

"Stop telling me what to do."

"Get out of my house before I call the police!" I shouted suddenly, sitting up quickly in bed. Lev looked me over with an expression of disappointment, not surprised in the slightest with my outburst. After a few seconds, he ducked his face toward the ground, shaking his head slowly as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

"What are you doing, Aidan?" he asked quietly. When I didn't answer immediately, he glanced up at me, waiting. "What's wrong with you? Can't you see that I'm trying to help you? Why won't you let me help?"

"I don't want your help."

He inhaled sharply, looking at the wall and then back at me again. "You know, I can only try to keep your dumb ass out of trouble for so long without you helping me. I can give you a hand if you help me out a little here."

I stood from my bed, crossing the floor toward him. "Was I unclear? I don't want your help. I'm not interested. Get out of my damn house."

"Do you like this back-and-forth crap? Is this fun for you? Because it isn't for me. Why don't you just give it up and help me help you already?"