"Of course, I'll take you in."

I looked up.

I never expected myself to land a non-musical career. As a child, I often visualised the four of us--Catherine, Natalie, Ben, and I--to be travelling to perform, going global, selling audio tracks, sharing millions.

And here I was. Searching--begging--for a job. Any one to take me in.

Before Ben, I had planned on getting a job with the highest of the highest salaries, owning two convertibles, living in a millionaire mansion. That was the life all of us expected for ourselves, the dreams all of us breathed.

And now, after Ben. I never really bothered to ask for a job's salary. Just take me in. Two convertibles? My only resort really were walks to various places, sometimes a public bus, a cab once in a blue moon. Instead of a millionaire mansion, I shared a one-room apartment with Catherine and Natalie.

I guess no one is ever alone.

I never expected Catherine or Natalie to be living this way. Natalie was the beauty; the future I imagined for her was one with luxury. And Catherine? She was always the all-A. She could do anything. 

Then they dug my number and called me, asking if I wanted to live with them on a flat on the fourteenth floor of a building when I'd been sleeping on rent that I took loans for.

How considerate.

And now, "of course"? It seemed almost nonsensical. As if I was in a dream.

I nodded.

Was I supposed to feel emotion?

                                                *     *     *

The door closed with a slight creak. The binds of the small living room was pulled up, and either of the girls must have dug out a doily from the cupboards to display on the armrest of the sofa. The television was left open, but the voice was muted. I reached out for the remote. 

"Cat?" I called. I could see the kitchen lights on; she was bound to be there.

After two seconds, Catherine replied, "We're coming!"

Something was being placed on plates, rather unceremonously, I could tell from the sound. Someone scrambled to get cutlery.

Amazing how a musician could tell so much from sound.

Before that thought totally entered my mind, I eradicated it.

Was. Was. Was a musician. Not anymore.

"So," Natalie came out of the kitchen, a round metal plate in her hands, its space occupied by a homemade cake, I guessed. I was barely round, but was flowing and overflowing with chocolate. A few candles were dug into the cake, remaining unlit. "You got selected?"

Natalie came out soon after, tying her hair with a black ruffled rubber-band.

Natalie managed to land a job earliest, a clerk in a most prestigious office. Catherine worked now as a gig worker, sometimes cooking to earn cash for the week, sometimes singing at pubs. At least she had the bit of the music with her.

I know the reason why they offered me to live with them was because they needed someone to help them take care of the house while they were away on jobs. I wouldn't know if there was another motive behind it.

Natalie and Catherine had saved up for years before they stashed all their life savings together to buy this house. It was amazing that they allowed me to stay in; but I doubted it was because of a friendship thing.

"No."

Everyone's faces fell.

"I'll have to go job-hunting again. You guys can have the cake, I'm going to my room."

What a pointless thing to lie about.