Newport ingredients

When I was a baby, I had borderline insomnia. On the nights my mother was desperate, she would bring me out onto the porch, and within minutes of basking in the starlight, I would be asleep. That’s how she used to tell it, anyway.
It explains why every time I stand on this porch, even during my watches, I feel some level of comfort. Parts of myself are so deeply ground into this house that I can feel it beneath my skin when the old wooden bones creak in the night.
It had been a few days since I’d first met the beast that haunted my dreams and also that weird cow thing. The rain earlier in the week had somehow left the ground much drier once it all evaporated, and the animals were dustier than tofu in an abattoir. There wasn’t a cloud in sight that morning. As much as I would’ve liked to waste the day away on the porch with a glass of Aunt Jean’s anomalously acquired lemonade, it was Barnyard Bath Day.
I put the chickens in Bath Jail (a puppy pen placed nearby so I could keep an eye on them, with Bath Jail scrawled on a cardboard sign and a shallow pan of warm water inside) and tried to decide who would be my first victim. Either Aunt Jean or a very ineffective cow thief had already brought Milkshake and Dairy Queen to the barn. I ultimately gave in to the fact that it would be best to do the most difficult of my clients first.
It took three sugar cubes just to get Hephaestus out of the barn and another to keep him from running off when I turned on the water nozzle. He wasn’t scared by any of it; I would’ve found a less obtrusive way to bathe him if he had been. He was just annoyed, like he was with pretty much everything. A bastard, for sure, but a bastard I couldn’t imagine life without.
Hephaestus, nothing if not predictable, took a solid hour and a half to bathe and another hour to brush out, mainly because whenever I lifted the brush and started to walk off, he would grumble at me. When he was clean, I walked him to the pasture to get some of his energy out and dry off. Then, it was time to reopen the car wash.
Sally, seeing clear evidence that it was Bath Day through the open barn door, stood in the doorway, bleating at me. I knew that the cobwebs on the barn ceiling were a menace, and she was always keen to get her orange hair scrubbed out and brushed.
“Do you want to go next, Miss Sally Ann?”
Bleat.
“Oh, I bet you do. You’ve been visiting the roofboards more than usual. I bet you’re Dirt City.”
Bleat.
“Come on over here then, Sally Ann Thunder Ann Whirlwind.”
She yelled at me one more time before trotting over. She enjoyed Bath Day the most and would even let me polish her hooves. Her husband, though… he was an entirely different story. Davy Crockett was big and bad enough to send Black Phillip running back home to his Lake of Fire. And he wasn’t afraid to tell me how much he hated his bath. I almost got a foot right to the face.
When they were done, I sent them out to the pasture with Heph. Milkshake and Dairy Queen always had to be bathed together. I had never thought that cows could have such extreme separation anxiety before I bought Milkshake. Cows need companions, and my steer French Fry had passed away from old age. I’d gotten her in town for ten dollars, and when I asked why she was being sold for such an insanely low price, the man simply replied with “cow broke” and invited me to lay a hand on her. She was constantly emitting gentle vibrations like she had an engine inside of her. But if she was a robot, she was a convincing one. I named her Milkshake.
If you saw Dairy Queen, you saw Milkshake, no exceptions. They were inseparable. Maybe they were best friends, maybe something more. I was in no place to judge a lesbian cow.
The last two to be bathed were also a unique challenge. My sow, Hermia, was old and patient enough. But her son, Hamlet, couldn’t stay still to save his life. The little piglet had always been a piglet.
I asked my dad about it once when we’d kept more pigs. He’d just said, “Little hen, he can’t change who he is any more than we can change who we are. Maybe he just can’t bear to get old.” That was enough of an explanation for me. Not everything needs a reason. Sometimes things just are, and that’s alright in my book.
Getting Hamlet bathed always ended with me drenched, and that time was no different. When mother and son were finished, I looked like I’d taken a leisurely stroll into the Amazon Rainforest. Hamlet gave me the most generous thank you of burping in my face before getting the zoomies the second I put him down.
Once everyone was clean, the sun was already half-hiding behind the treetops. I ensured the Girls were warm and dry after their stint in the bath pan, then cleaned the coop. Hairy had the decency to respect the sanctity of Bath Day, and back in the hens went once it was tidy. I got all the animals back to their designated places, made sure they were fed and comfortable, and then I went to take a bath of my own. Dawson was coming over, and I’d be damned if I let that asshole call me smelly.
I ran the water as hot as it would go and scrubbed until my already-aching hands cried out ‘no more.’ When I got out of the bath, I was a little wobbly. Instead of realizing how dehydrated I was, I chalked it up to the usual fatigue of a hard day’s work and went to the porch.
The sun sank behind the pines. Dawson would be here any minute, so I sat down to wait for him. I’d invited him over to watch something with me. I’d meant to start it, but I didn’t trust myself to finish shows on my own. Almost immediately after I sat, everything started to turn bright yellow, and I passed out.
At some point, lost consciousness turned into groggy half-awareness, then dreamless sleep. The memories of being awake were vague: someone forcing my mouth open, water and oatmeal, and a knitted blanket thrown over me. It wasn’t hard to guess later who it was; only one of the likely suspects was present.
When I woke up, it wasn’t on the porch or even in my bed. I was lying face down in the dirt, and a worm was putting its blood, sweat, and tears into trying to crawl into my nostril. I tugged it out and flung it somewhere into the cornfield surrounding me on all sides.
A strange smell clogged my mouth and nose, and it wasn’t just worm. It also wasn’t the bloody footprints surrounding where I’d woken up, the massive kind with only one definitive source, even though I could definitely smell the sweet iron. No, the foul smell plaguing me came from the corn itself. On close examination, I could see where the bottom of some of the stalks had turned withered brown and even gray. The sight and smell both meant one thing: death was sure to follow.
I got to my feet, panic slowly building in me. All I could think of was losing most of the crop. Sure, I got what I needed to survive from the Landlady. But the farm couldn’t function without the money I earned from the harvest each year. Just as I’d decided that was my biggest problem, it was immediately dethroned.
In the moonless, faint dark of early morning, I saw a wave of grimy black mold sweeping across the ground toward me. I nearly tripped on my own feet as I stumbled back through the row. It followed me until I reached the edge of the field, and then it stopped. I thought that maybe it wouldn’t leave the cornfield. Maybe it couldn’t.
I took a shaky backward step toward the house. The black began to burble like bogwater, almost as if I’d made whatever it was angry.
“Oh, you don’t like that do you? Well I’m gonna go get in my comfy bed and you can stay out here with the Pigman. How about them apples?”
The bubbles solidified as something crawled out of the ick.
This is probably one of the worst times to step back from the action, but I have to share a memory first. When I turned double digits, my mother had a brief but intense “aliens are real” phase. She had a lot of special interests like that. I remember sitting in our living room, patching one of my favorite pairs of jeans, while my mom watched a documentary about Roswell and alien sightings in the Midwest. My mom changed the channel when they started talking about cow mutilation, but I’d seen enough.
What I saw crawling out of the black was reminiscent of the foggy, gruesome images that memory conjured. Its lower jaw hung loose and broken, missing most of the skin. The right side of its face clung to its skull in bloody shreds, and it had only one cloudy, cataract-filled eye. It huffed as it moved jerkily toward me as if every step caused it great pain. The white speckled along its black coat was not bicoloration but large patches of pale mold.
I was honestly a little pissed that I was in a standoff with this thing when I could be fast asleep in my cozy bed. Zombie cows were not a planned part of my hot gender-fluid summer.
“Nice… nice cow. I don’t want any trouble. I bet you’d like some corn, wouldn’t you? Why don’t you just stay out here and have all you want? And I’m going to go back in the house!”
I was about to turn and run for the porch when my foot caught a pothole. I fell right on my ass into the dirt driveway, and then that was when the buzzing started. I could hear flies and feel them trying to crawl in my mouth and nose, even though nothing was actually there.
“Get the fuck away from me! Go back to Hooven Hell or something!”
The rotten thing moved much faster now that I was down, and its breath smelled like moldy milk carpet. I held my breath, kicked my leg up as hard as I could, and was rewarded with a shower of cold cow intestines all over my knees as its stomach burst like a water balloon. Somehow, it didn’t seem to mind being gutted. It thumped a hoof down hard on my chest, and the air shot out of my lungs with a hacking gasp.
Its own intestines snaked up and out of its open mouth, snapping around my throat, and whenever I ripped one off, another took its place. I kicked and thrashed and finally realized that maybe I should be screaming for help, so I did. If this thing wanted me as its girl dinner, I wouldn’t make it easy.
Just when my vision was darkening, and I could feel its flat, cracked teeth against my nose, we were both bathed in harsh light. I turned and saw a truck barreling down the road toward me and my new friend. It closed the distance at full tilt, horn blaring, and the cow thing released its grip on me and sprinted back into the cornfield.
I collapsed back onto the ground, and the tires of the red Ford stopped about a foot from my face. My unlikely savior jumped from the truck, with it still running, and scooped me up out of the dirt. Without a word, Dawson threw me in the passenger seat and got back in on the other side, locking the doors.
“Are you okay?!”
I was. I mean, I was definitely a little worse for wear. I couldn’t think of a time I’d ever smelled this bad. But I was alive. And if Dawson hadn’t shown up, I probably wouldn’t have been. As much as it annoyed me to admit, if this had happened even a week ago, I would’ve been burnt toast. But I didn’t tell him that. He probably already knew anyway; it was so stupid how smart he could be sometimes.
“I’m fine. I probably would’ve been a lot more fine if I’d fallen asleep watching Good Omens last night with someone who was supposed to be here sooner!”
Dawson sheepishly drove us the short distance back to the house.
“I know, I know. I didn’t just ditch you, I swear! I was coming to apologize, actually. I brought breakfast.”
That’s when I realized what the smell that was slowly invading my nostrils and replacing all the bad ones was. There were few things that could smooth over anger like a greasy McDonald’s breakfast.
“Well, you’d better have a good excuse.”
Dawson looked around nervously and turned off the truck.
“I’ll tell you all about it, let’s just… get inside. I don’t know if that thing is gone! Oh god, my mom is going to kill me when she finds out I didn’t turn around and speed out of here with you.”
I glanced around before opening the door and making a beeline for the house. Dawson followed with the food, and I let him in first before slamming the door behind us. I wasn’t too worried about anything going after the animals, not yet, anyway. Davy Crockett had enough old man rage to level a building.
“Do you… do you have any idea what that was? Because I don’t. All I’ve got is an undead cow, which… doesn’t feel right.”
Dawson shook his head.
“Bad news is what it is. I’ve only ever gotten the feeling I got seeing that once before. It’s something evil.”
I sat down as Dawson laid out breakfast. Even after what I’d just been through, my appetite was still very much there. I swallowed a mouthful of half-chewed pancakes.
“What did you see?”
He got this deer-in-the-headlights look.
“When I was little, my family and I were visiting relatives on the Res. I saw something one night, something I shouldn’t have— something evil. My mom doesn’t really like me talking about it with strangers… or with anyone, really. It’s not that I don’t trust you, of course; it’s just…”
“No, no. I get it. We all have to have some secrets. Sometimes, it’s safer that way. Do you think this is the same kind of… thing?”
By now, dawn was breaking, and seeing the first light made me feel worlds better. I had never seen the Pigman during the day, and even if the two weren’t related, it inspired some confidence in me. Monsters didn’t like daylight, right?
“I don’t think so, but it’s nothing good either way. Could we… maybe change the subject, though? At least for a little while?”
“Well,” I said, moving onto the impressive amount of hash browns he’d brought, “we could talk about how you stood me up last night?”
Dawson sighed and drenched his pancake in syrup. After we finished eating, I would have to do my rounds. Even if I was a little angry at him, I was glad to have him here for when I had to go back outside.
“I was just getting ready to leave when my dad called me to the barn. One of our ewes went into labor, and I… I spent the night elbow-deep in sheep vagina.”
“Sheep vagina?”
Dawson laughed, but it was nervous.
“Yep. I would’ve much rather been elbow-deep in a bowl of popcorn.”
I laughed, too, but for much longer. Then I realized I couldn’t stop. I threw my hands down on the table and cackled until tears sprang up in my eyes, and they decided that this was their party now. The massive hoofprint bruise hiding beneath my shirt ached as I sobbed.
“Oh, Newport. It was a rough delivery, and by the time mom and baby were situated, and we were done, I went inside and passed out on the couch. I should’ve at least texted. All this is on me. Fuck, I’m really sorry.”
I shook my head and got up from the table. Dawson followed me as I grabbed my shotgun and walked out onto the porch, still unable to stop the tide of tears.
“It’s not that, Dawson. I don’t care about you playing ovine obstetrician. It’s just…”
It was just that I was terrified for the well-being of myself and of my home. It was just that this rot creature didn’t fit in with any of the usual oddities on the farm— it was dissonant and evil and I could feel in my bones that it wouldn’t be gone for long. It was just that I’d come close enough to death to feel its maw against my face.
It was just that Dawson had saved my life.
“I’m just worried. Really worried.”
Dawson had been following me around like a puppy, but I heard his footsteps distinctly stop then.
“Hey.”
I turned and looked back at him. He had an expression I’d never seen on him before: stony seriousness.
“It’s okay to be worried, but it’ll be alright regardless. I can tell this place means a lot to you, and we won’t let anything threaten that— or you.”
Dawson put both hands on my shoulders, and in the firmest, no-nonsense voice, he said:
“Fuck that zombie cow. He’s a little bitch.”
Just like that, he had me laughing again, and this time, the tears didn’t come back. He dropped his hands and smiled.
“Knew I could get you to laugh.”
“Oh my god,” I said, wiping my eyes, “just walk with me. I need someone to share my last cigarette with before I roll some more, and I’d rather not find out if Mr. Night of the Living Beef is a smoker.”
Dawson started following me again, but this time he kept pace. I lit the cigarette and offered it out to him first. By the time we circled back to the porch, all that was left was smoke on our breaths.
I heard him walk into the house, but I stayed, making sure the shotgun was loaded and looking out over the path. I could still see the deep tire tracks from when Dawson slammed on his brakes if I squinted.
“What’re you doing?”
I didn’t take my eyes off the road, but a smile crept over my face.
“You’ve got your secrets. I’ve got mine.”
I gave it exactly ten minutes before standing and turning back. Dawson was watching me, and he probably had been the whole time.
“Keep your secrets,” he said with a dumb grin, “just come finish breakfast with me.”
So we sat in the kitchen together and finished our McDonald’s on chipped china. It wasn’t often that I got fast food like this, and even with it having grown colder than a banshee at her ex’s wedding, I still ate every bite of it.
“So, I’m going to make us some coffee if I can figure out the caffeine dinosaur you’ve got over there.”
He was right. That coffee machine looked like it jumped out of the fifties, but I’d never gotten a better cup anywhere else.
“And then we’ll figure out what we should do next. I would call my mom and ask her, but… I don’t feel like the Mom Voice this early.”
I picked up our plates and looked over where Aunt Jean stood by the hissing coffee pot.
“Someone beat you to it.”
Dawson caught my gaze and jumped a little when he saw her.
“How did she get down here? I didn’t see her or hear her come down the stairs. Did you?”
“Nope. If you’re hanging around here, you might as well get used to it. Sometimes she’s just… there. And then she’s somewhere else. But her teleportation has never been particularly malicious.”
Aunt Jean walked over and handed him two things. The first was a cup of coffee, which I was expecting. If she had spoken, she would’ve said something like, “Guests always come first in this house, chickadee.” The second was an ice pack.
“Thank… thank you, Aunt Jean. It’s really nice to meet you properly.”
Aunt Jean took on a serious look. She gestured to the ice pack, then to me, before holding both wrinkly hands on her chest. It took Dawson a minute to register the message, but once he did, he came over quickly and with visible concern.
“That thing hurt you bad, didn’t it?”
The soreness and pain that I’d been trying to ignore for the past hour flared up at his words, but I did my best to deny it.
“I’m fine, I swear. Just some bruises and things I’d have to talk to my therapist about if I had one.”
“I don’t believe you. Take it.”
I stared at Dawson, and he stared at me. Neither of us was backing down— that was until Dawson cheated.
A hard poke in the chest was all it took for me to wince and mutter “fuck,” and Dawson shoved the ice pack into my hands.
“That was totally unfair, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know. Now ice that.”
As uncomfortable as the chill was, I gave in and stuffed the ice pack into my binder. Seeing that Dawson had won the Ice Pack Battle, Aunt Jean walked over and pinched his cheek like he was an adorable baby. Then, for the first time ever, Aunt Jean spoke.
Well, that’s not totally right. Her mouth formed the words, but the voice that came out of it definitely wasn’t hers. It was a little girl’s, spoken like a child would talk to a dog.
“Good boy!”
I watched Dawson’s cheeks tinge slightly red.
“Yeah, I… I do my best. Someone’s gotta make sure they take care of themself.”
Aunt Jean’s smile widened before she approached me and placed a steaming mug in my hand.
“So we’re feeling talkative today, Jeannie?”
She reached out and gently patted my cheek. I caught the scent of Dove soap, and then she was gone.
“She’s… quite the character, isn’t she?”
Dawson turned to me and grinned the same dumb grin he got whenever he was proud of himself. It annoyed me how easily I’d come to recognize it in the short time we’d known each other.
“She really is something. I think she likes me.”
I took a sip of my coffee. It was burning hot, but I was still shivering from the ice pack, so a warm stomach for a scalded tongue was a fair enough trade.
“Don’t get a big head over it. Aunt Jean likes everyone. Well, most everyone.”
Like the bastard he was, Dawson walked over and started washing our dishes from breakfast. It was only two plates, but I was still ready to kick his ass over it.
“I see where you’re coming from. But let me ask you this. Has she ever spoken to anyone else besides you?”
I wasn’t about to tell him she hadn’t spoken to me. I would’ve been jealous, except for the fact that I wasn’t. Aunt Jean and I had a special bond, and I almost always could sense what she was thinking. Words are loud and unwieldy sometimes, and there’s a certain dignity and comfort in quiet companionship.
“Touche, asshole.”
“Maybe she likes me better,” he says, using that tone of voice that tells me he doesn’t actually believe that but wants to annoy me.
“Maybe you can take a nice, long walk right into the Grand Canyon.”
“I bet I’d do a good job being you. Couldn’t be that hard, though I might go bankrupt on overalls alone.”
For a moment, I actually wondered if Dawson would do a good job running the farm. All signs pointed to no, but I didn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing. Keeping this farm from going to shit is a difficult job, and it’s made me a hard person. I wouldn’t want that to happen to him. Plus, there’s not much McDonald’s breakfast out here. Or that cereal he really likes. I wasn’t sure I’d like the person Dawson would become if he spent that much time around here.
“Oh, please. You’d be running out of here in less than a day with your tail tucked between your legs and Davy Crockett hot on your ass.”
“Oh, really? Well, I’ll have you know that your horse likes me better!”
I gasped in mock outrage. I was almost certain that wasn’t true, but I respected the spirit of dramatics.
“How dare you! A curse on you! A curse upon your house! A curse upon your cow! A curse upon your—“
I was interrupted by a marimba. Dawson and I glanced at his phone, which lay on the table. The screen lit up with the word “Mama.”
“Looks like your curse worked,” Dawson said with a dry laugh, “oh, she’s going to kill me.”
Then he answered it. The yell that came out of that tiny speaker could’ve been heard clear across the state. There’s no force greater than a worried mother. Other than her yell, all I heard was Dawson’s side of the conversation.
“Yes Mama, I’m fine. No, I’m not outside. I know there’s something bad out there. Yeah, I know, you always feel things like that.”
I snuck into the next room, far enough to be out of the way but close enough to still hear.
“No, Mama, I don’t have it, but— I can’t just leave! Newport will be here all alone and that thing might come back and— no, Mama, it’s not like that! They’re just— Mama, I can’t leave them like that, and... fine. I’ll… I’ll try. But I don’t think it’ll work. I know Mama, I know you’re looking out for me. I love you too.”
After a few minutes of silence, Dawson joined me in the living room.
“Heyyyyy. So—“
“Not a chance. I’m not leaving this farm while that thing is out there somewhere. I don’t think Davy can hold his own for that long.”
Dawson sighed.
“I knew you’d say that. I tried to tell her. But she’s going to have my ass if I don’t go get some sort of protection from her. I usually have my necklace, but I was rushing out, and I forgot it today.”
I picked my shotgun up again from where I had laid it and peeked outside. The sun was warming up the fields, a gentle wind blew through the cornstalks, and I could hear the yellowhammers as they went chee-chee-chee-squeeeee amongst the trees. It was turning into a deceptively beautiful day.
“She said if I want to stay with you, she won’t stop me as long as I get something to protect us. But I’m not leaving you here without a way to go. You can keep the truck, I’ll… well, I’ll walk.”
A gruesome picture invaded my brain at Dawson’s words: him walking down the path, and before he could even make it out of sight, a black and rotting blur tore out of the cornfield and slashed into him, spraying bright red blood everywhere and putting on a gory horror show worthy of an A24 flick.
“No. You’re not walking. If you want to leave me the truck, fine. I won’t argue with you on that. But we’re going to find you a better way out of here.”
I didn’t give him any time to disagree. I just snatched his wrist and pulled him out toward the barn.
“I already know my truck isn’t going to work. It needs a new radiator and I can’t get one until next month. The four-wheeler has been slow lately, and I don’t think we should take that risk. Um…”
Dawson walked over to the horse stable, just like I was afraid he would. I would’ve rather he rode Beelzebub.
“What about your horse? I’m sure he’s fast enough.”
I scratched the back of my head. Hephaestus could be pretty rough when he wanted to be.
“I don’t know…”
Hephaestus narrowed his eyes at Dawson, but he reached out to scratch his snout.
“Alright old man, I know you don’t like me. But let’s have a truce for now, okay? I’ve gotta get where I’m going.”
To my surprise, instead of shooting out and snapping at him like the feral dog he was, Hephaestus closed his eyes and sighed. If you’ve never heard a horse sigh in content, I feel sorry for you and recommend you go find a horse at your earliest convenience.
“You do like him better, you bastard!”
Heph actually rolled his big horse eyes at me, like I was the dramatic one out of the two of us.
“I wouldn’t take it personally. I’m just the cool uncle.”
I walked over and grabbed the saddle, thrusting it into Dawson’s hands.
“Well, let’s see if the cool uncle can get his saddle on with all his fingers intact. Do you know how to ride a horse?”
Dawson gave me a tilt of the hand that inspired so little faith.
“I know all the basics, but it’s been a while since I’ve actually used them— like… years.”
I pulled a carrot I’d forgotten in my pocket and had him give it to Heph, hoping we could buy his patience.
“Well, all I can tell you is good luck. You’re probably going to need it. Time for the saddle.”
To my surprise and continued annoyance, Dawson got it on pretty easily. He’d passed the Horse Test now, too. In fact, all the animals besides me had adjusted to his presence like he’d always been here. Having him around still felt so weird, but the idea of him leaving felt worse than that. It felt bad. I didn’t like to think about it for long, because then the questions I didn’t want to answer started to surface.
“Look at me, I’m a natural!”
I was brought out of the haze that was beginning to consume me by Dawson trotting around the barn on Heph. Both looked very pleased with themselves. I could tell Dawson was expecting me to come back with some smartass remark, and honestly, so did I. But whatever I would’ve said stayed lost in the useless hunk of meat that was my brain at the moment.
“Come back, okay?”
Dawson pulled Heph to a stop and stared down at me.
“Because… if you or Heph get splattered across the dirt road up here, it’s going to attract crows, and they’re totally going for the corn next. And that would be… super lame.”
I hated the way Dawson’s expression changed. It got softer, and his eyebrows pinched together.
“I’ll be alright, Newport. I promise.”
I just shook my head and looked away.
“Who else is gonna make you pull that annoyed face you’re pulling right now?”
If he had been beside me then, I would’ve for sure taken his tree branch elbow to my ribs. As I turned back to him, I almost felt it telepathically.
I gave him what some might’ve called a smile. I hated how it sat on my face; it reeked of worry. And my concern for his well-being was none of his business.
I led Heph out of the barn door, stopping just short of it. The sun was hot, and the air was filled with the noise of Mother Nature, totally unbothered. But with the feeling in my stomach, it might as well have been the deepest depths of night.
“Nobody would do it better. Keep your eyes out for… that thing. I don’t think it’s scared of the daylight, Dawson.”
He nodded, and I laid my hand on Hephaestus’ flank, silently pleading for the old stallion to keep his cargo safe. Then I slapped him on the behind with a ‘hiyah,’ and he tore down off the dirt road with Dawson.
“Look at me,” I heard him yelling as they rode away, “I’m riding a fucking horse!”
I had a sneaking suspicion that he had lied about his history with equestrians, but it seemed like he was managing regardless.
“Don’t yell like that! You’re ringing the damn dinner bell!”
It was hard to tell from how far down he had made it, but I swear he turned back to look at me and winked. I sighed, shook my head, and went back into the barn.
Usually, the animals ate before me, but today hadn’t been a usual day thus far, and my money was on it staying that way. Still, I could tell Davy was getting crankier than an old man who hadn’t gone to bed by seven.
After everyone was fed and seen to, I went inside and made sure all the doors were locked. Then, I treated myself to a decadent lunch of a handful of Cheetos from the bag I picked up in town. The Landlady rarely brought me anything besides healthy food and fresh ingredients, so it was my duty alone to treat myself. Then, I went to shower. I was only just remembering that there was still dried cow gunk all over me.
When that was done, I busied myself with household chores as best I could. I kept Kurt Cobain’s voice rattling out of my stereo as high as it would go, trying to fight off the nervous something that was threatening to crawl up my back in every single moment of silence. I dragged my dustbuster all over the house, glad that I’d finally broken down and gotten Two Tooth Steve to order myself a Dyson using just a little of the liquid cash I kept in the lockbox. I tried to be very careful with what I used that money for, but a man can only bust the dust for so long. My days of bunnies under the bed would soon be no more.
Afternoon crept into evening, and something in me knotted up when I had to flick the porch light on. I’d gotten no word from Dawson, not even a text. Not that there was much service out here. Aunt Jean stood by the kitchen window, staring into the gathering darkness. It was hard not to join her, but a nagging feeling in my gut told me that’s what it wanted.
It all suddenly made no difference when I heard Dawson calling my name outside. I was too relieved to think straight for a few seconds, and that was all it took. I threw open the door and raced off the porch like there were springs in my feet. I scanned down the long, lonely path to the main road. Dawson was nowhere to be seen, but I did hear footsteps behind me. They were slow and disjointed. One, two, onetwo, one… two… onetwo, onetwo, one, two… one…... onetwoonetwoonetwo—
I wheeled around as the Rot picked up the pace, sprinting toward me as much as a festering cow carcass could. Broken bone shone white in each of its legs. I staggered backward, with my mind screaming all the while to turn around and run like hell. But everything felt like jelly. The Rot’s gory jaw fell open, letting loose a death wail. Then it closed in on me, coming in for the kill. I shut my eyes tight.
I expected to hear the squelch of my flesh being ripped off or the wheeze of its breath right against my ear. I wish I had, because what I actually heard was a million times worse. There was the sound of broken footfalls passing me by and Dawson yelling my name. This time, it was actually him.
I watched his smile fall into a look of unabashed fear in real-time.
The world was suddenly on fire. The feeling of slogging through a jam jar was gone, and suddenly, every move was at warp speed. I was on the porch, off the porch, halfway down the road, sprinting so hard my legs stung. My shotgun was in my hand. When did I grab it?
I was getting there, but not fast enough. Heph let out the most terrified whinny I’d ever heard, and from where I was, I could see the panic in Dawson’s wide eyes. The Rot was a few more strides and a claw swipe from going all ominous unknown killer on my horse. Everything was a blur of motion after that. The WiFi signal to my consciousness must’ve been extra shitty that day.
There was a loud crack and Dawson was on the ground and Heph was running back toward the barn without him and Dawson was clutching his wrist to his chest and I was lifting my gun and the Rot was leaning over him and its intestines were wrapping around his neck and BANG.
Time jerked to a halt. The Rot wobbled slightly, a massive hole blown into its meaty skull. I didn’t move or even breathe while waiting for it to fall. The only sound was Dawson whimpering quietly.
I shot it, and now it was over, right? Right?
Instead of collapsing dead into the dirt, the bastard melted into a puddle of mold and shot back into the woods out of sight. I knew it would be back; it was only a matter of time.
“Dawson,” I rushed over to him, “Dawson, what the fuck?!”
I pulled his wrist gently away from his chest and took in the damage. The bones weren’t in the right place, and the skin was beginning to swell and turn purple. It hadn’t broken skin, though, and as far as broken bones go, I’d seen much worse. The only other visible injuries he had were a rising swath of bruises on his left side, a swelling knot on the side of his face, and a bloody nose. Any way you looked at it, he needed a hospital, and he needed it now.
“Is Heph okay?” He said through heavy breaths. I could tell he was trying to be tough about the pain, but I could feel a vague ache in my own wrist just looking at it. I was surprised he hadn’t gone into shock.
I risked a single glance back and saw Hephaestus standing by the barn, wide-eyed and spooked, but alive and unharmed.
“He’s fine! You’re not!”
“I’ll walk it off,” Dawson said, pulling his wrist back to his chest and gritting his teeth.
I helped him to his feet and rushed him toward his truck. The only walking he would do was into an emergency room.
“That’s never been good advice! I’m taking you to the hospital!”
I didn’t give him a chance to argue with me. I helped him into the truck and screamed out toward the house for Aunt Jean to see about Heph, hoping it was loud enough to be heard. Then I hopped in the driver’s seat and left a mini dust storm in my wake as I zoomed off the property.
“Why did you do that?!”
Sweat rolled down Dawson’s brow, mixing with the blood still dribbling slowly out of his nose. His breathing had slowed a little, but not enough to be concerning. The cool air blasting out of the conditioner seemed to calm him down but also keep him lucid.
“That thing would’ve torn through Heph to get to me. We both had a better chance of surviving if I jumped ship.”
I shook my head because although the logic made enough sense, I still didn’t like it.
“It’s alright, Newport. You’re probably happy we’re even again.”
I side-eyed him so hard I almost went off the road. Despite it all, he wore a weak smile when our gaze met.
“What the hell do you mean?!”
He exhaled and looked around like his eyes were made of water, and we were stuck in an oil spill.
“I saved your life, and now you saved mine. We’re even. The universe is in balance, and you don’t owe me anything. Not that you did before, but I feel like you think you did.”
I knew getting to the hospital was urgent, but sometimes, there are those moments you know will have a lasting effect on the rest of your life. There’s an unnameable something you can feel— I think people much cooler than me would refer to it as a ‘canon event.’ That’s why I jerked the car to a stop in the middle of Silver’s Curve. Thank god we were both wearing our seatbelts.
“Dawson.”
The dumbfounded look on his face was almost what some might’ve called cute if his face wasn’t covered in blood and bruises. I stared him down more than I had ever stared at anyone before.
“I don’t give a fuck about any of that. I don’t want us even. I WANT YOU ALIVE! I want us alive!”
Dawson didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to; I’d made my point and he understood. He just nodded, and I nodded back.
Neither of us spoke after that, both lost in our own minds. But every thirty seconds, I glanced over to make sure Dawson was still breathing. It didn’t seem like he had brain damage, but I couldn’t be sure. I sped the rest of the way to the hospital in the next town over. I didn’t trust the one in Battleman ever since they told me at twelve that my ruptured appendix was period cramps and also anxiety.

Retirement Balance – $105,896 ($37,331 in a Roth IRA + $68,565.29 invested a brokerage account) As soon as I graduated from college, I started a Roth IRA, funding it primarily through my tax returns. Last year, I received a substantial amount of money (~$80,000) from my parents, and, after maxing out my Roth IRA for the end of 2023 and 2024, I put the rest into the brokerage account. Equity - $0, I rent! Savings account balance - $0.10 – I know, I know. It sounds weird to have no designed funds in savings. My rationale is that I have pretty high limits on my credit cards, and the capacity to pull from my brokerage account in 48-72 hrs. I think this two-pronged approach would take care of any immediate emergency money needs, and if those were not tenable options, my parents would send me the money. Thinking about the average rate of return from the market, it feels like keeping as much money as possible in index funds is a better allocation than keeping money in a high-yield savings account. But I’d love to hear alternative perspectives! Checking account balance – Fluctuates between $100-$1000 throughout the month, I pay off my credit cards every week from my checking account. Credit card debt (and how you accumulated it) - $0 Student loan debt (for what degree) – $0, I received a full tuition and board scholarship to my state university and supplemented additional costs with paid summer internships and tutoring jobs/seasonal work. Anything else that's applicable to you: In 2023, my parents gifted me around $80,000, the money they had saved for my university education. Because I’m pursuing a STEM PhD, I have graduate tuition remission from the United States government, and I receive a livable stipend from my institution. I also received a full scholarship for my undergraduate studies. Any extra costs from university (books, trips, etc), I managed on my own. My parents instilled in me a strong desire for financial independence, and I’m really grateful for that. They taught me resilience, the value of money, and how to take pride in a job well done, no matter what that job is. But as a young adult, it was very difficult for me to receive financial aid from them. As I’ve gotten older, my parents have settled into higher paying jobs, and I’ve worked hard to be more comfortable with their generosity. Last year, my sister graduated from a prestigious university, and my parents offered to give me the equivalent amount they paid for her education. I have very tender feelings for my college experience, but I think my parents feel guilty that I didn’t take their help to pay for a bigger name school. It felt weird to take the whole amount, so we compromised and I received $80,000
Section Two: Income Income Progression: I pursued graduate school right after college– I started off around $42,000 and received cost of living increases for the last five years. Over the past year, my institute gave all trainees an 11% increase to make our salary competitive with other graduate programs in the city. During college, I worked 10 -15 hours a week during the semester as a tutor and teaching assistant. Over winter and summer break, I worked full time as a research assistant, a hostess, or a Victoria’s Secret seasonal employee. Main Job Monthly Take Home: $3476 – I receive $4250 per month, but $773 is withheld in taxes.
Section Three: Expenses Rent / Mortgage / HOA fees (please specify how you split it if living with a partner): $2850, split between two people - my partner and I moved in together last month. We live in a one-bedroom, with an in-unit washer dryer, a dishwasher, and an in-building gym. My commute to work is about 45 minutes. I pay $1422, which has roughly been the amount I’ve spent on rent in every New York City apartment I’ve lived in, including the subsidized housing my institute provides. Renters / home insurance: None Retirement contribution: I typically contribute $550 to my Roth IRA each month, but this year, because of my parents’ gift, I maxed out my Roth IRA contributions at the beginning of the year. Savings contribution: $0 Investment contribution: $895 Debt payments: $0 Donations (please specify if monthly or annual): I volunteer for ~10 hrs/month Electric + Gas: ~$200, my half is $100 Wifi/Cable/Landline: $60.00 Cellphone: $0, I’m on my parents’ family plan Subscriptions: $31 (Spotify Premium, Adobe Illustrator with student discount) Gym membership: $0 Pet expenses: $0 Car payment / insurance: $0 – my partner has a car he inherited from his grandmother, but I do not contribute towards insurance Regular therapy: $150 ($30 per session) Paid hobbies: $0
Day 1:
6 AM: Wake up everyone, it’s my sister (D)’s birthday!! I make a batch of brownies and stir fry zucchini and mushrooms for a meal prep. In the process, I set the fire alarm off TWO TIMES (big sorry to my neighbors and my sleeping partner!!). I eat breakfast, clean up around the apartment, and kiss my partner (A) goodbye.
8 AM: D’s apartment is on my way to work ($2.90), so I drop off the brownies before heading in. I have a big presentation coming up in a few weeks, and I run my first practice talk with two of my colleagues. They have a lot of feedback, which is great – but I spiral for an hour afterwards, feeling overwhelmed.
1 PM: A made a Moroccan-inspired stew, with orzo, chickpeas, and lots of kale, that I packed for myself last week and never ate. I heat it up for lunch. This morning, my friend, J, experienced a minor health emergency. I spend some time looking up Medicaid coverage, as a potential insurance option.
5 PM: I make progress on my talk! I reanalyze a few metrics and reorganize my narrative structure. Even though I could spend another hour fiddling with margins, colors, and scales, it’s 5 PM and I’ve got to go!!
6 PM: I pick D up from her apartment and we jump on the train ($2.90) to the first destination: dinner. We’re at a cute Italian spot in the West Village, where we each get a glass of the house red, a pasta entrée, and we split a fig salad ($94.67, choke! – my mom covers this bill as her birthday present to D). Dinner ends earlier than I expected, so we take a long walk through the neighborhood and listen to a cellist play on the street corner. We also play my favorite pastime: looking into peoples’ windows. The people of New York City don’t always know how to use curtains, and I love judging interior design. At 7:30 PM, we head to the second location, a jazz club, for their band night.
9 PM: I bought the tickets for this event a few weeks ago, but I cover our drinks tonight ($34.00) – we both get another glass of red wine. D is a jazz fan, but this is my first time going to a live performance. I think…I don’t know enough about music to appreciate jazz. Despite my ignorance, it is so incredibly clear that these men, who are older than I thought they’d be!, are masters of their instruments. At the end of the night, I chat with the family sitting next to us (the mom and dad met in New York 30 years ago and now they’re back with their kids, swoon!), as D uses the restroom, and then we hug goodbye and head home ($2.90).
10 PM: I’m home! I tell A all about the night, as he eats dinner, and he updates me on his day. He’s about to start applying for jobs, so we talk how I can help support him. Even though he’s stressed out, he works so hard to not let that stress spill out onto other people – big heart eyes for the big guy :^) . I fall asleep around 11.
TOTAL: $42.70
Day 2:
6:30 AM: Waking up today is a slog. I eat a brownie for breakfast, and putter around the apartment. I clean some dishes, eat another breakfast, catch up on the news, and head out the door.
9 AM: I’m at work ($2.90) and I’m feeling good! I get some health updates from J, some boy updates from D, and an update on last night’s dreams from my other friend, J². All’s well in my micro-universe. At 10, a friend comes by to be interviewed –a leadership development program I participated in needs more promotional material, and I offered to film a few alumni, talking about why they love this program. I borrowed an old point-and-shoot camera from A, and I bought a dinky $30 microphone I’m hoping to get reimbursed for. This is a very low budget production, so I balance the camera on a stack of books, instead of a tripod. When we’re done (the interview was predictably great, my friend is very eloquent), I go back to working on my presentation.
12:30 PM: I order a burrito for lunch ($14.70) and walk to pick it up. I need some fresh air, and a break from my computer.
2 PM: It’s a long afternoon. I spend some time texting J² about the bridge collapse in Baltimore, but mostly work on analyzing data. Around 2:30 PM, our building management called me to let me know they have a weatherproofing technician in the area, and could he stop by? Our apartment has a balcony, which is cool, but the door isn’t well insulated, which is tough for our heating bill. I give the okay and call A to give him a heads up. Around 5, my mom calls and we chat about all the things we’ve eaten in the last two days. I catch up with one of my colleagues about the analyses she’s running, and then zip out the door at 6 PM.
7 PM: I’m home ($2.90)! I had planned on making Italian wedding soup tonight, but I feel unexpectedly anxious. Thankfully, there are still tons of leftovers in the fridge. I eat another brownie and warm up some pork meatballs and zucchini/mushroom stir fry. I also make little quesadillas for me and A. A put leftover buffalo chicken in his, and fixes himself a Ceaser salad, which I pick at. Lots of reciprocity here. I give him the update on my day, he gives me the update on his. After we’re done with dinner, I take some alone time, to process through this anxiety. I just…there are so many things I want to do in this life, and I feel like I’m not doing anything and I’m never going to do anything. I spiral in bed for half an hour, and then take a showewash my hair. I end up curling up on A’s lap, and we talk about the bridge collapse and India’s geopolitical history until I decide I should try to sleep.
Day’s Total: $20.50
Day 3:
6 AM: I’m awake! I wash the dishes from last night, make a cup of tea and rip the audio files from the past two interviews off my phone onto a hard drive. I also pay one of my credit cards off for the past week. I warm up the last serving of meatballs and stir-fry for breakfast, while I watch the latest Elena Taber video. I can’t finish breakfast, so I put it back in the fridge, and I’m out.
8:30 AM: At work ($2.90). Today’s a short day, because I have therapy at 5 PM and need to get home beforehand. I make a to-do list and hop to it.
1 PM: I’m frustrated with the aesthetics of my presentation. All the data is there, but it looks boring, my representative examples look boring…I decide to attend a seminar, to reset my brain. It’s in a different subfield, so it’s hard for me to stay engaged, but I do get to catch up with some departmental friends and we have a free lunch provided afterward (tacos, nice!). I write some analysis code for a colleague.
3 PM: I’m leaving!! I schedule another practice talk with my colleagues for tomorrow, First stop is Trader Joe’s, where I pick up beans, carrots, kale, asparagus, eggplants, tofu, three kinds of cheese, ground pork, plain yoghurt, harissa, eggs and herbs ($63.76 – my half is $31.88). I pick up double and triple portions of most of the ingredients because A’s best friend (who is vegetarian) is coming to visit this weekend. This haul should feed three people for five days, with leftovers. I eat my breakfast leftovers just before therapy.
6 PM: Therapy ($30, with insurance) is over. I update A on what we talked about, he updates me on his day (he hasn’t been sleeping well from stress). He gets back to prepping for interviews, while I start cooking. I make merguez (middle-eastern style meatball, I made mine with the ground pork because I couldn’t find ground lamb) with tzatziki on the side for dinner, and while A is eating, I also make Italian wedding soup with ground turkey from last week’s grocery for dinner tomorrow. Instead of orzo, I sub in white beans. Italian wedding soup is the first dish A and I ever cooked together, so it always feels special when we make it again. I’m not hungry, but I hang out while A eats.
9 PM: I clean the kitchen (A will vacuum tomorrow) and wipe down the bathroom sink. I’m supposed to do a big clean tomorrow night, but now all that’s left is cleaning the shower and toilet. I take a shower and think about how far I’ve come with cooking. When I was in college, cooking wasn’t fun - I ate a lot of pasta and jarred sauce. But, five years later, I feel so much more confident with multiple healthy and culturally diverse dishes. Getting into cooking, and especially the dishes my mom made growing up, has also really helped ground me in my heritage. I listened to an Instagram Reel the other day by an Indo-Caribbean chef, where she said that, even though she doesn’t have her mother’s recipes written down, her mother’s hands come through in every meal this chef makes. I miss my mom.
10 PM: A and I hang out for a while – we’re thinking about playing hooky from school to go hiking on Friday. A grew up in the countryside and moved to New York for me last month. Even if he doesn’t realize it, the constant concrete and chaos of the city gets to everyone, and we both could use some fresh air. The conversation winds down as I get sleepier and I’m out by 10 PM.
Total: $67.88
Day 4:
6:30 AM: I’m getting out of bed. Moving slowly today – I scroll on my phone for a while, then warm up some Italian wedding soup for a light breakfast (it tastes good!). I packed the merguez and yoghurt sauce last night for lunch today and I’m just – I’m not so interested in going to work, but I know that I will be fine when I get there. I decide to clean the toilet and shower now, then take a shower, then hopefully find the resolve to leave my sweet little home.
10 AM: I’m at WORK ($2.90) and I don’t want to be HERE. On my way to work, I called my parents – they’re catching a flight later today, and, of course, they’re sitting in the terminal three hours early. I rework my presentation, and then goof off with my colleagues for an hour. After that, I eat lunch, fix code for another colleague, and break down all the things I need to complete for my project by the end of the year. Seeing it all written out is reinvigorating: this is doable! I add all my other goals for 2024: my first solo thru-hike, the leadership development filming, a grant proposal, etc. And it feels even better to get everything out of my head and onto a piece of paper.
1 PM: I send my presentation to my closest colleague, who is away at a conference, and she sends me notes over text. Her opinion matters a lot to me because we often collaborate on experiments and data. Then I go over my presentation with my two other colleagues, who offer more helpful feedback. I pack up my stuff to work from home.
4 PM: I’m HOME ($2.90). I grumble with A for half an hour, eat a snack because I skipped lunch, and get some more work done, before we break for dinner around 7 PM (Italian wedding soup). I buy tickets for a group of my friends to see Monkey Man next week (my share, $40.88, I’m covering A’s ticket). A sends me Dev Patel’s recent Reddit AMA – I’m so so so excited. A goes back to interview prepping and I work on a grant proposal. I think I want to try my hand at claymation, so I look up where I can buy modeling clay. A and I both head to bed around 9 PM.
Total Cost: $46.68
Day 5:
2:30 AM: I’m AWAKE. I try to go back to sleep, but I can’t. I get up and stretch. I warm the last serving of Italian wedding soup to eat at 4 AM (ugh!) and work on my grant proposal. I watch a video done in Claymation from an Indian animation studio, and email it to A. I find a new Youtuber who is a software engineer in Brooklyn, and I become her 212th subscriber. I also answer a couple texts that I haven’t gotten around to. Around 5 AM, I try sleeping again.
7:30 AM: A and I are awake – we both haven’t slept well and we’re snappy with each other. We decide to take some alone time, and I clean the kitchen and read a book, while he eats breakfast and listens to a podcast. I take a shower, and, at 10 AM, we head out.
11:30 AM: We’ve finally gotten to a park in upstate New York – traffic was brutal (tolls round trip will be $39, my half is $19.50). We stopped at a McDonald’s so I could eat a second breakfast ($6.08) and A could use the bathroom. Things still feel tense, but I chalk it up to how much A hates traffic. As we pull into the park, we see a sign that says…all hiking trails are closed. Eeek. We check out AllTrails and the park’s Trail Alerts, and decide to still hike anyway. The trail we pick feels like stair-master workout. I feel hopelessly out of shape and it’s frustrating. A is in a better mood, being outside. He’s very encouraging. About forty-five minutes in, I’m having a better time, but then we both watch as two park rangers and their first victim walk towards us. Mmmm, the trails really are closed. We exchange a couple jokes with the rangers and turn back around. On our way down, we pick up two more groups of hikers. A and I end up walking faster with the first hiker the rangers picked up, and she tells us she was planning on taking shrooms when she got to the top of the mountain. Thank God the rangers found her before and not after. We reach the bottom of the trail and quickly part ways – A and I decide to walk around a lake with a paved path, which is definitely open to the public. It’s a beautiful day.
2:30 PM: A’s hungry, so we stop at a Mexican place and grab two pulled pork burritos ($29.00, my half is $14.50). While we eat – and discover that this pulled pork is unexpectedly sweet – A and I talk about the American military system. While we’re at lunch, A’s best friend texts to say he can’t come today, and that he’ll drive over tomorrow morning. Ah. Big bummer for A. Since A’s friend arriving was our deadline to be back in the city by 4 PM, we decide to use the extra time to hike somewhere else. We head out to the Palisades, which have been on my list for a while. On the way, A picks up gas ($37)
3:30 PM: We reach the Palisades and the view is stunning. We bird-watch as vultures catch the thermal currents rising against the cliffs, and then walk down the Long Path. This hike is more my speed. We try to make our way to the shore, but another hiker, on their way back, cautions us against it – it’ll take a while and it’s getting closer to dusk. We decide to head back. A uses the bathroom, while I read about the Palisades’ history at the welcome center – did you know that the Palisades used to be the home of a free Black township in the late 1800s? It was called Skunk Hollow, after the skunk cabbages that grew there.
7 PM: We’re HOME. Traffic was disgusting on the GW Bridge, but A handled it like a champ. I know he’s feeling sad that his friend isn’t coming tonight. I suggest that we go out for dinner. I have a $5 credit on Grubhub from employee appreciation month at work ($35.50 – I pay entirely for this, instead of splitting the gas). While we eat dinner (Indian take out – two entrees and naan), we watch a DnD campaign we’ve been following, and A massages my feet.
9 PM: We’re getting ready for bed. A had planned to go out to a comedy show with his friend on Saturday, but now feels like they won’t have enough time to just hang out and talk. We decide that he’ll hang out with his friend at home on Saturday, and then on Sunday, we’ll all go to an improv show together. I purchase the tickets (my share is $18.80, with an early bird discount and processing fees). We’re asleep by 10 PM.
Total Cost: $88.30
Day 6:
6:30 AM: I’m awake! I futz around on my phone for half an hour, looking up free lectures at the Met. There is a whole series on photography and art during the Weimar Republic, but the times don’t work out for me. I get out of bed, do some yoga, and put my laundry in. I transfer all the video files A ripped from his camera to my laptop. I stare at the fridge: I want to eat leftovers from last night, but there’s a pile of roasted carrots I’ve been ignoring for a week. I decide to eat both.
9 AM: I finish reading my book (Digital Minimalism, by Cal Newport). A wakes up, and my laundry is done. We hang out, and I pull my tarot (I ask ‘what do I need to know right now’, and my deck answers ‘patience, patience, patience’). Then I hop into the shower, and hand-wash a few delicates. I’m going to a talk in the afternoon, so I put on some eyeliner, and wear a pair of earrings A’s dad got me from his trip to Hawaii earlier in the year. A takes a pic to send home.
11 AM: I’m at another friend’s house to film her for the leadership development program. It’s, yet again, another lovely interview. We finish up a little past 12, and then I hop on the subway to head to the talk ($2.90).
1 PM: I’m here early! I pull out my laptop and work on my grant proposal while I’m waiting for the talk to be set up: it’s an interview between two South Asian creatives. It’s an interesting talk, but I feel out of place and somewhat disengaged. I think I would get a lot more out of this if I was more in the creative space, but as someone who is just trying to find an entry point, a lot of the conversation doesn’t feel relevant.
5 PM: I’m back home ($2.90)! I stop by the art supply store to grab a pack of modeling clay ($4.95). As soon as I check out, I wonder what the hell I think I’m doing – Claymation is such a hard technique, and I don’t really have any business trying to get into it when I also have major deadlines as a graduate student. We’ll pin that particular spiral for later. A’s friend is here, and we hang out before starting on dinner (black pepper tofu and eggplant). It’s very fun to cook together, and to catch up – I also get to see a different side of A, which is sweet. We finish dinner and hang out until 9 PM. I have to go to sleep – the boys stay up until around midnight.
Total Cost: $10.75
Day 7:
5 AM: I’m…awake. I don’t want to disturb anyone so I spend an hour in bed, half on my phone, half trying to will myself back to sleep. It doesn’t work – the phone doesn’t help – so I get up and quietly, so quietly, prep dough for a galette I’m making later. I toss it into the fridge to chill, grab my laptop, and head out the door. I’m hoping to find a coffee shop I can work in, but the morning is so beautiful! I stroll to the library to return my book, and then walk around the neighborhood for an hour. I grab a disappointing pastry ($5.95), and that’s motivation enough to head back home.
8 AM: I’m pretty sure the boys are still asleep, so I head to the gym and lift weights, which makes me feel…really really strong. I’m proud of myself for making healthy choices for my body and time. I head back to the apartment around 9, and A is awake.
9 AM: A and I start moving in the kitchen, and his friend soon wakes up too. They head out to grab coffee. I’m making breakfast today, so I put together an asparagus galette and roast feta with chickpeas and grape tomatoes. I’m pairing this with Trader Joe’s focaccia bread for a savory spread. The boys come back with flowers and we all sit down to eat
12 PM: My mom calls, and I move to the bedroom to talk to her. Afterwards, I listen to an audio message D sent me about her night out. I hop in the shower, and waffle on whether I should go to work today. I’m just not feeling productive. I know that I’ll feel better once I’m at work, though, so I pull on my shoes and say goodbye. I’m going to see A and his friend in just a few hours for the improv show anyway! There won’t be time to miss them!
2 PM: I’m at work ($2.90). My colleague who was away last week is back in town, and it’s so nice. We catch up on her conference, and her current housing woes, and then run through my presentation. I move to a different part of the office to get some focused work done.
5 PM: I head out to meet up with the boys for dinner. We grab Thai food (my share is $27.41, with tip, for a drink and entrée, A and I end up getting the SAME THING), and then head over to the improv show.
9:30 PM: It was such a good show! Lots of laughs, lots of great bits that we giggle about afterwards. While there, we each grab a drink (my share is $14.61, with tip). We metro home ($2.90) and decide to walk half an hour instead of catching a transfer – it’s a lovely night, and a lovely way to end the trip. I’m in bed by 10:30 PM and asleep by 11!
Total Cost: $53.77
Weekly Total: $314.76 Food + Drink: $136.02 Fun / Entertainment: $94.44 Home + Health: $0 Clothes + Beauty: $0 Transport: $34.80 Other: $49.50
Reflections: This felt like a high-spend week for me, but I think that feeling comes from recording every transaction. Looking back on all my purchases, I don’t see anything remarkably extraneous. I like the ratio of my food/drink cost to my fun/entertainment cost, because I’ve been trying to value experiences with friends and family more than the convenience of take out. From a ‘how did I spend my time’ perspective, I wish I was...nicer to myself. When I think back to all the time I spent this week, being upset with myself, feeling insecure, feeling suspicious of praise, it adds up. And none of those feelings help me live a more fulfilling life? I know it's something I need to figure out, and I'm trying to do it, but I'm having a rough go with it. I did love seeing how much time I got to spend outside this past week, and, while I always seem to want more time with A, I’m happy to see all the time we got to spend together too.

Hi folks - so, I've tried most of the markets/grocery stores in Newport, Middletown, and Portsmouth. I've found a lot of key ingredients for Indian cooking (fenugreek, for example), but have yet to find asafetida, fresh curry leaves, and a good mango pickle.
Is there a secret spot somewhere on the island where I can find these things, or will I need to chart a course for parts north?