Song of the Firebird

Nineteen

That Monday evening, Ivy crashed at Natasha's flat, not literally. Soon after they reached their mutual destination, Natasha took a power nap for about a couple of hours before she stormed out the door cursing her smartphone's alarm app. Ivy rolled her eyes and fell back to the mattress-y heaven. God, Ivy could not stop singing praises on Natasha's choice in picking out the right mattress that suited people who had a hard day. Provided Natasha had no qualms and that she never had, Ivy planned to extend her stay under the very same roof for one whole week. Unless there were sudden changes in the functioning of the neural networks of a pregnant woman, she mentally added. That being not the issue that moment, she plopped her head to the nearest pillow.

A loud ringing voice hit her ears, disturbing her cuddles with the pillow. If it were the doorbell of her friend's, she thought, she would slam it back unless for the pizza. When the ring didn't stop, she opened her eyes and moved to the door warily to unlock it. Not a single soul greeted her and yet she could hear the ring.

Closing the door and locking it behind, she took slow steps toward the noise. She rummaged the entire bed space, closet and kitchenette. She did not have a clue. She scratched her curled locks, gritting her teeth in anger. Seconds later, she was distracted by dim flickers under her peach tote - her handphone. She strode only to stare at her own alarm flashing back at her. Losing the will to snuggle under the covers, she switched off the alarm and hopped on the bed, taking a moment to daze at the pastel green ceiling. It had been only six hours since her friend left. It had been months she slept like this. She didn't have to fret about that night's work.

Bored of blinking hard and thinking about trivial things, she leapt out of the bed and hit the shower. The night's young to do a hell of a lot.

Satisfied with grey sweatpants and a solid purple tee, she grabbed the keys on the kitchenette counter and texted Natasha that she would be out for a while. Humming Higher love by Whitney Houston, she walked along the streets with no pre-planned destination. She walked on the roads that her legs carried her. Taking one look at the red apples and squash through a transparent glass, she checked the dollars in her wallet and pushed open the doors to a fresh produce store. There was not a single section for organic produce, on the other hand, the fruits weren't that pricey when compared to a typical supermarket.

Ivy walked the aisle, eyeing crates of vegetables on both the sides. The store was smaller than the markets since they only sold fruits and vegetables. After procuring enough for her salad and smoothie, she moved to the cashier to settle the dollars. A plump, bald white man stood behind the computer checking that day's accounts.

'Is that all, miss?'

'Yes'.

'I suggest you finish them in three days. Your pick of produce rot easily. You might store them in the fridge but it can only help with another two days, not more than that.'

'I get it. Thank you.' He nodded.

As Ivy carried the brown bags with her mulling over a variety of imaginary scenarios, she later stopped by a convenience store and gifted herself a lollipop. Taking back the exact turns and junctions, she reached Natasha's place in a matter of ten minutes. Sucking the sugary juicy goodness, her memories played the image of Kiara that noon. Her happiness fell at the expression that Kiara bore - especially at the sight of the rosy blush. She gulped down her jealousy, forcefully, with every passing step.

Ivy skipped the elevators and forced herself to take the steps. As she reached the flat, she heard Natasha from beyond the opened doors. 'Ivy, is it you, sweetie?'. A subtle panic was evident in her words. Heaving a breath, she rushed to greet her friend.

'I texted you that I will be back soon. Did you read it?'

'I did. Come on. This evening was bad or I didn't know I was being paranoid or a little protective. Um, never mind. I bought pizza and sundae.'