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HEAVY LIFTING

B ecause Timmy is banned from my apartment building and the hundred-yard radius around it, I have to move, well… everything, myself. And I don’t really know anyone else who could help, unless I want to hire an expensive moving company, so it’s on me. Luckily, I still don’t have too many belongings, so I repack my four suitcases, as well as a couple of backpacks for the additional items.

The mattresses are big and bulky, and they’re a pain to move by myself.

I slide the top one off, and sitting on the lower mattress is Timmy’s stupid bone necklace. The one that looks like a human spine. I thought the cops had taken it, but I guess it’s been here all along, secretly taunting me. My stomach churns at the sight of it, and I feel bile rising in my throat.

That stupid fucking thing.

I immediately think about the picture of his skanky ‘friend’ wearing it around her neck with nothing else.

Disgusting.

I wrap it in a trash bag and immediately throw it out.

It has bad juju all over it, and I want nothing to do with it .

I feel slightly guilty as I do, despite everything that transpired. He really liked that stupid thing. But he also let random skanks wear it while topless, and he wore it the day he attacked and nearly killed me.

So, it really did have to go.

I yank the mattresses to the door one by one and load them onto the luggage cart. It’s almost impossible to get them balanced and stable on the cart. On more than one occasion, the mattresses tilt sideways and completely block the hall.

The bone necklace flashes through my thoughts again—that stupid fucking thing tangled in all its symbolism. That tragic girl’s smug, half-naked grin sears into my mind, Timmy’s necklace hanging between her breasts. My fingers itch from just having touched it, and I sanitize my hands. Tossing it into the trash felt like a small exorcism, a desperate attempt to cleanse something rotten between us.

But still, a tiny voice in the back of my mind needles me—what will he say if I confess that I found it and that I threw it out? What if the absence of that dumb thing becomes yet another wedge between us?

It’s not just the necklace—it’s the fear of what it represents. A secret world he carries with him, made up of bad decisions, reckless behavior, and ghosts of women he swore meant nothing.

I shake the thought away, nearly losing control of the cart in the process. The mattress shifts again, tilting dangerously to one side, blocking the narrow hallway. I grit my teeth, pushing it back into place, my arms burning from the strain. There’s no one here to help—just me, doing this ridiculous move alone. A neighbor peeks out from their door, but they quickly retreat back inside without offering a hand. Typical.

I stop a couple of times, willing myself not to give up, but eventually I get them all loaded up and I wheel them down the hallway. Somehow, I manage to cram them into the elevator, through the lobby, and out onto the street, down the sidewalk, until I get to Timmy, a hundred or so yards away from the building.

“Got it?” he asks, sliding the mattresses off the cart with surprising ease. He works fast, strapping them to the top of the vehicle with practiced efficiency, the ratchet straps whining under the tension. He’s always good at this kind of thing—handling the physical stuff, solving problems when he’s sober. And it’s these moments that remind me why I love him, why I keep choosing him, despite all the chaos. When it’s good, it’s really good. That said, how much easier this whole move would have been if Timmy could have helped with the first part!

I go back upstairs to grab the remaining bags. The apartment feels hollow, stripped of my things and my plans. It was supposed to be a sanctuary, a place where I could write, thrive, and live the dream life I’d always imagined. But instead, it became just another failed attempt at stability. And it’s not the apartment’s fault.

The truth is, I knew what I was getting into with Timmy, even if I tried to convince myself otherwise. I could’ve stayed here, alone, in this overpriced little box. But that’s not what I wanted, not really. I wanted love, companionship, adventure—and I’ve got all that with Timmy, even if it’s wrapped in layers of complications.

I exhale deeply, letting the air fill my lungs before slowly releasing it. A wave of anxiety sweeps through me. What if moving doesn’t change anything? What if the new apartment just becomes another trap, another place for him to spiral and for me to feel stuck?

But I ninja kick those thoughts down. We have a plan. We’re getting out of Matty’s cramped, chaotic apartment. We’ll finally have our own space—just the two of us. No more third-wheel roommates blaring YouTube videos about excavating septic tanks. No more awkward mornings tiptoeing around cigarette smoke and greasy bacon.

Taking a final look around what was meant to be my dream apartment, I can’t help but feel wistful. It definitely wasn’t a big space, and was terribly overpriced, but it would have been nice to have enjoyed the amenities more. There definitely was some weird cultish obsession with regular human levels of noise, but Timmy contributed to the situation with his ridiculous behavior.

If I hadn’t met him, I certainly would still be there, at least for now. But, I had a choice to make, and I’ve chosen Timmy. The one who loves and cares for me, who takes me on adventures, who believes in my dream of being a bestselling writer.

My chest is full of pressure and I take a giant breath and exhale as I close the door behind me one final time. It seems surreal, but at the same time, at least we’re no longer going to be staying on the floor of Matty’s cramped bedroom. We’ll have our own place to focus on our work, side by side. Ride or die partners for life. And the apartment itself is nice, maybe a bit bigger than this one. And the amenities are nice, too. It feels like we’re trading up in a few ways. The area is more than a bit sketchy, but as long as we stick together, we’ll be fine.

The finality of leaving my apartment sinks in as I close the door one last time and hear the keypad beep, locking the door to what was supposed to be my fresh start. It’s a bittersweet goodbye, a place I never got to fully enjoy—like a good meal abandoned halfway through. Sure, it had its quirks—the bizarre noise complaints, the overpriced rent, the neighbor wars. But it was mine, and now I’m walking away from it, dragging my life along on a cart, one heavy load at a time. And it’s all because I chose Timmy. I chose love, with all its jagged edges and roller coaster loops, over my original dream.

I grip the cart handle harder, as if holding on tighter will keep my mind from wandering into places it shouldn’t go.

Eventually, I get everything loaded into the elevator, sweat sticking to my skin, frustration bubbling under the surface. My mind races with a running list of everything that could have been easier if Timmy hadn’t been banned from the building. If he hadn’t dangled his dick off the balcony or screamed at strangers in the night. If he hadn’t gone ballistic and turned my quiet retreat into a battleground, threatening to murder me, hurting me physically and scarring my mind.

But no use dwelling on what could have been. I push through the lobby, ignoring the curious glances from the doorman as I struggle with the load. When I finally make it to the curb, I feel a knot loosen in my chest as I see Timmy waiting for me. He’s smiling, a cigarette dangling from his lips, already climbing into the back of the truck .

When the truck is loaded and secure, he flashes me a grin. “See? Told you I’d help.”

I smile back, though the words I want to say get stuck in my throat.

I want to remind him that it would’ve been easier if he hadn’t gotten us kicked out in the first place.

But I don’t. What’s the point? We’re moving forward now, and I don’t want to drag old fights into the next chapter.

I return the cart to the lobby, and with a final glance over my shoulder, I return to Timmy, who’s waiting eagerly for us to leave town.

When we arrive at the new place about an hour later, Timmy throws open the truck door and surveys the building like a conqueror inspecting his new domain. It’s not fancy, but the upgrades really are nice, as well as the view, and it’s a damn sight better than Matty’s. I’ll take any win I can get at this point.

“Not bad, is it?” Timmy says, giving me a playful nudge as he surveys the beach outside. “It’s got potential.”

I laugh, the sound surprising me. For the first time in weeks, I feel a sliver of excitement for what’s ahead. Maybe this really is the reset we need. A place where we can focus on each other, on our work, on building something real together. I choose to believe in that possibility, at least for now. Because, honestly, what else can I do?

We unload the truck, working together in a surprisingly smooth rhythm. He’s in a good mood, cracking jokes, making me laugh. And while we unload everything, I see the version of Timmy I fell in love with—the one who makes everything feel like an adventure, even moving a couple of mattresses.

Once the last of the bags are inside, we flop down on the mattresses, exhausted but content. Timmy wraps me in his arms, kissing my forehead.

“We did it, baby,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of promise. “ It’s just us now. And everything’s going to work out just how we planned.”

I tilt my head up and kiss him back. And then, exhausted, I close my eyes, letting myself believe, for just a little while, that everything will be okay. That this new apartment really will be the fresh start we’ve been waiting for.