November 14th, 1987: Move-In Day

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This novella contains mature language.

"Tits in a basket, Schmidt! How much shit do you have?" Carrie billowed from the closet.

Kevin and Carrie had volunteered to help Jamie move into the loft in which she was officially renting a room of her own. The latter of her two coworkers never stopped complaining. Typical, Jamie thought with a chuckle as she remembered their bantering during the drive from her father's house all the way to the Yua's residence. Apparently, this type of manual labor deserved all the grumbling in the world, but she wasn't fueling her fire any longer. She simply sent her a content grin and Carrie scowled at her uncaught bait withering away.

"She has just as much crap as you do, Carrie. Probably less, since you're a damn packrat." Kevin chimed in as he set the box in his arms down onto the floor.

"Shut up!" Carrie pushed past him to the other side of Jamie's bed.

"Shut up? That's all I get?" Kevin smirked. "You use all your best lines on Jamie earlier? No more gas in the tank?"

Carrie shot him the finger and he laughed, but Jamie wasn't paying much attention. Her mind was elsewhere. Yua was nowhere to be seen and they'd been informed she had an emergency meeting with a patient. For some odd reason, Jamie had really hoped that she would be there when she moved her things into her room. Their banter the days leading up to her move had been light and fun. So much fun, in fact, that Jamie had been looking forward to seeing her again given most of the conversations were over the phone.

This wasn't any fucking good.

If she wanted to keep her promises dictated in the renter's agreement and seared into her mind, she needed to try and remain impartial. Still, every time she had seen Yua over the last week, or spoken to her on the phone, that feat had been incredibly hard to achieve. It was made even more difficult when Jamie had seen Yua in that power suit just two days prior. If the woman was trying to remain illusive, she was failing like hell. The good doctor was everything beyond average and there was no way she didn't steal everyone's attention when she walked into a room.

Jamie had seen her twice in person since their first meeting and it was getting more unfathomable to imagine Yua didn't date. Or more to the point, it shocked her that people hadn't really shown an interest in her. Although according to Yua, no one had since she was a teenager. What the fuck was wrong with people? Or perhaps she just never picked up on it in the past? She did seem to have her mind elsewhere most of the time like she was purposely distancing herself from most people. Maybe that played a part in it all.

The only person Yua seemed fully relaxed around was Carrie. Sadly, they'd known one another for the better part of the decade and they were close. So bonded that Jamie found herself a bit envious of that connection. What the hell about don't fuck the toaster do you not get, Schmidt? Just stop. She reprimanded herself as she began getting her clothes onto hangers.

After mentally chastising herself a few moments longer, Jamie gathered up the clothes already hung and made her way into her closet. She ignored Kevin and Carrie's bantering along the way with the shake of her head. Her closet was the biggest on the whole goddamn earth that looked to be swallowing the little bit of clothing that already lay inside. There was no way she would ever have enough things to fill it, in spite of what Carrie would like to have her believe. Jamie didn't have many things at all. A minimalistic life was what she led and preferred.

All her furniture was new and aside from it, all Jamie really had was clothing and records. She'd never needed many things, but more importantly, she only had one box of sentimental things that she'd managed to get that day her ex dumped her. She'd given Jamie one box of her things and left her stranded in the elevator of their apartment building without even considering a discussion.

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