by H. L. Logan
CHAPTER 3 - KAITLYN
I’d been to Rosebridge before to visit my friend, but I saw it in a whole new light now that I knew I’d be living here. A much better light, I might have added.
It had a completely different feel compared to the town I’d lived in with Julia. It didn’t feel as stuffy and as corporate as Englewood had. The buildings were more unique; the town seemed to be alive with college students walking around and laughing. And on just the walk from the train station to my friend’s apartment, I ran into a quirky-looking art studio called the Shadetree Collective. Yep, this was my kind of town.
My friend, Ryan, seemed excited to have me. I’d thought he would be. It was another one of the reasons I’d reached out to him instead of anyone else. He had recently broken up with his live-in girlfriend and was living alone. I’d thought with him, my presence would be less of a burden and more of a comfort.
When I arrived, he grinned and pulled me in for a big hug. We started immediately chatting about what we’d been up to, though unlike him, I hadn’t been up to anything new since the last time I’d seen him. I was still just making music and trying to make a living from it.
He’d graduated from Beasley University since the last time I’d seen him. Although he wasn’t as snobby about it as Julia often was, he also had a fancy new corporate job at a nearby law firm. It was very prestigious and paid well, which was why he didn’t mind cutting me some slack financially while I got back on my feet.
Also unlike Julia, he hadn’t moved apartments after he’d gotten his new job. He still lived in the same small place he had when he used to split the rent with college roommates. So he was still living pretty cheaply while getting paid quite a bit. My half of rent would probably be a drop in the bucket for him, a negligible amount of money he wouldn’t even notice if it got deposited into his bank account every month.
I had to admit, on some level, I was jealous of that, though I’d never have admitted it to Julia. I wasn’t materialistic, but I did occasionally fantasize about what it would be like to not have to worry about money. Not enough to get a regular job, of course. It was just one of those small desires you thought about now and again.
Ryan only had time to talk to me for about fifteen minutes before he had to head to work. But he showed to my room, which was fully furnished, thankfully, since I didn’t have any furniture to call my own. Julia had bought every piece of furniture she owned; it was all hers.
“It’s all stuff my girlfriend picked out, sorry if it's not your style,” Ryan had told me, as if I possibly cared about the style of the free furniture I was getting to use.
“Why do you get to keep it, then?” I asked. “If it was her furniture.”
“I said she picked it out,” he reiterated, “but I was the one who paid for it. Common problem in our relationship… I let her keep some stuff when she moved out, though. But she was going back to live with her parents, so she didn’t need all this furniture.”
After he left, I tried to get comfortable, though I was anything but. I didn’t think the furniture was too bad, actually. Everything was some version of teal or mint green… including the wooden desk that housed a computer in the corner of the room. But the teal comforter was extremely soft, and the bed was memory foam, which I’d grown accustomed to at Julia’s.
But that was kind of the problem. That was why I couldn’t get comfortable. No matter what, I kept thinking of Julia. Even here in Rosebridge, everything reminded me of her. Something as small as memory foam could send me into a spiral of thoughts of her. I hated it.
When were these feelings going to pass? I'd experienced break-ups before, but they’d never hurt quite like this. I'd never been with anyone as long as Julia, so that made sense. When would thoughts of her stop haunting me, though? When was I going to be able to feel comfortable in a place without having her by my side?
At the moment, it felt a long ways off.
After Ryan left, I knew I had to get out of the house. He likely wouldn’t be home until past six. I’d been planning on sleeping when I got here, even though it was the middle of the day, because it’d been a long trip. Twelve hours on a train was no joke.
But I’d managed to sleep for most of that trip, so unfortunately, I was feeling pretty well-rested. Which only meant I was wide-awake and able to think about Julia way too much.
There were things I could do, though. I could go explore the city. Hell, maybe I could even take my guitar and try to make some money.
But, no, probably not today. I was a little bit worn out emotionally, so playing for people in public didn’t feel like something I could handle at the moment. Maybe today, I’d just scout for possible locations where my music might be appreciated.
I grabbed my wallet and the house keys that Ryan had given me and left.
Rosebridge was like no city I’d ever lived in before. It was picturesque, exactly what you’d imagine when picturing a small artsy college town. It wasn’t the first artsy college city I’d been to, but it was the nicest looking and the cleanest. Other colleges I’d been to were downright dirty, with frat houses that had beer bottles out on their lawns and litter in the streets.
Not Rosebridge, though, Rosebridge was pristine. I’d been expecting I was going to have to spend some money to distract myself, but I actually didn’t have to. Just walking around was pleasant enough for me. I’d glance into restaurants and window shop as I walked by, but I really didn’t feel the need to go into any of them. I was enjoying the soft breeze and smell of freshly-cut grass. Seriously, why did it smell so much like plant life? I didn’t care; it was my favorite smell.
The one unfortunate thing was that, on the streets outside Beasley and the town’s Riverwalk , it was pretty bare. There didn’t seem to be a lot of foot traffic, which was the opposite of what you’d want when you were performing for money.
So I decided to venture into the college to see if there were more crowded places. Sure enough, as I walked closer to the college, things seemed to pick up. As long as I didn’t get kicked out for soliciting, there were definitely a few good corners where I could hang out as people walked by.
The campus was bigger than it’d seemed from the outside and was about as picturesque as the rest of Rosebridge that I’d walked through. And, as weird as it sounded, the people looked picturesque, too. So many well-dressed college students were giggling with each other as they walked out of their classes. Why did this place feel so open and friendly?
I decided to stop when I came across the Beasley campus pub, King’s Tooth. They had a sign indicating they had a lunchtime happy hour. I figured, why not? I could have used a drink… or twenty.
It wasn’t what I’d been expecting. Usually campus bars are really kitschy, but this one was decorated very simply. It definitely wasn’t over the top in any way, which I appreciated. In my experience, the simpler the bar, the better the drinks.
I sat at the bar and smiled at the bartender, a young blonde guy with blue eyes who was looking a little bored before he noticed me sit. When he did, he perked up immediately and put on his customer service smile.
“What can I get you?” he asked.
“Whatever lager you’ve got on tap.”
He nodded. “You’ve got it.”
He poured it and handed it over to me. The glass was cold as ice, which I always appreciated.
I sipped it and knew immediately what it was. “Stella?” I asked.
“You know your beers!” He smiled at me, with a little bit of surprise on his face. “Is that fine?”
“Absolutely,” I nodded. “One of my favorites, actually.”
“Perfect,” he said, and turned his attention to someone who had just walked in. Given it was the middle of the day, it was pretty empty. There were two guys sitting over at a table sipping mixed drinks, but, besides them, it was just me and whomever had walked in.
I turned around to see a dark-haired college girl walking in, adjusting her glasses as she stepped up to the bar a
nd sat a few seats away from me.
She was cute, no denying that. But pretty much everyone I’d seen so far was cute, so that was hardly a surprise. Even the bartender was a good-looking man.
“Could I get a Long Island, please?” she asked the bartender with a polite smile.
“Sure thing.” He nodded as he stepped away to make her drink.
She sighed and leaned her head on her hand as she tapped on the bar counter. Not tapping as if she was frustrated with having to wait or was impatient; it was more that she seemed to be fidgeting.
I glanced over at her, questioning whether or not I should start a conversation with her. Before Julia, I used to be pretty upfront when I was considering flirting with someone.
But things were different now. I wasn’t as secure as I used to be, not nearly as brave. I wasn’t sure how to go about putting myself out there again.
Besides, I probably shouldn’t be putting myself out there at all. I’d only barely broken up with Julia. I shouldn’t have been trying to get involved with anyone else.
On the other hand, I had to start making friends at some point. If I was going to live here, I had to put myself out there. So, hey, maybe I would strike up a conversation with this girl, and she would end up being cool. Not like it had to lead anywhere.
In fact, it probably would lead nowhere, because I couldn't even be sure if she was a lesbian. I might have been sort of getting that vibe right now, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Long day?” I asked her as the bartender handed her the Long Island and she started gulping it quickly.
“You have no idea.” She rolled her eyes.
“Care to talk about it?” I asked.
She shrugged. “It’s stupid. It’s just that I stayed up late studying for this final, and then I forgot to set my alarm, so I woke an hour late for class and only had thirty minutes to take the test. Though I guess I’m lucky my professor even allowed me to take it at all.”
“Yikes,” I said, trying to imagine what that might feel like. I’d never taken school too seriously, and I’d never gone to college, so it was hard to imagine stressing over a test that way. “Were you able to finish?”
“Not even close.” She shook her head. “Hence, the drink.”
“Right.” I nodded. “Ah, that blows. I’d be drinking, too, if I were you.”
She nodded toward my beer. “Well, you are drinking. What’s your reason?”
I laughed. “Oh, no real reason for me. I was just wandering around the campus and decided to drop in. I'm new to Rosebridge, so I was doing some exploring.” I extended my hand. “My name’s Kaitlyn, by the way.”
“Kaitlyn, hello. I’m Emily.”
“Nice to meet you,” I told her, before feeling someone tap my shoulder behind me.
It startled me, so I jumped back a little bit before I saw one of the guys from the other side of the bar standing in front of me.
“Oh, sorry to scare you!” he said in a soft, deep voice. He was tucking his chin-length brown hair behind his ear and smiling at me. “I just had a quick question.”
This was a little weird, but I was an outgoing person, so I didn’t mind someone randomly initiating a conversation with me.
“Are you single?” he asked. “Because you’re very cute, and I was wondering if I could possibly get your number.”
Well, this almost never happened to me. I often was approached by other lesbians but pretty much never by men.
Though I did date men now and then. I had a preference for women, but every once in a while, I met a guy who caught my attention. But in those cases, I was the one doing the chasing and not the other way around.
Without looking him up and down, I tried to assess if I was attracted to him. He was cute, no denying that. His dark, long hair perfectly framed his very symmetrical face. He was objectively pretty attractive.
But, eh, he didn’t hold my interest. Not really. For a guy to win me over, there had to be some extra factor that drew me in. Or maybe I was just uninterested in him because I had a woman on the other side of me who I found way cuter. Either way, I didn’t want to entertain this.
“Sorry, I’m taken, actually.”
“Oh, that sucks,” he said, frowning. “Well, couldn’t hurt to ask. Have a good day.”
“You, too.” I smiled politely as he made his way back to his friend, shrugging at him as if to say ‘oh well.’
“Taken, huh?” Emily asked me.
Right, I didn’t really want her thinking I was taken because she was cute, and, even though I shouldn’t have been looking at girls, I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t want her thinking I was totally straight, either.
“If taken means uninterested in him,” I said, as I grinned mischievously at her.
She seemed to get my point, that I was a lesbian. Or, at least, mostly lesbian, I guess. Bisexual didn't feel like the right word to describe me, because while I was attracted to both genders, I so heavily leaned toward women.
She smiled back, and a look in her eye made me think she might have actually been interested in me, too.
“So, what brings you to Rosebridge?” she asked.
I had to think about how I was going to answer this. Should I lie so the conversation was kept more casual? Say I just moved for a change of pace?
Or did I answer honestly and admit I’d just had an awful break-up? It was too personal for a conversation with a stranger, but, at the same time, I wanted to vent a bit. And there was always the possibility I’d never see this stranger again, so, why not?
“Actually, just had a pretty bad break-up with my ex-girlfriend,” I said. “I mean, the break-up was mutual, but still awful.”
“Aw, I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said, sounding genuinely empathetic. “You wanna talk about it?”
I finished off my beer and turned to her. “You know, I actually do,” I said confidently.
I wasn’t feeling super confident about pouring my heart out to a stranger, but whatever, alcohol would help that. I asked the bartender for another beer.
“So, mutual, but bad?” she questioned me.
I nodded. “Mutual, but bad. You know when you’re with someone, and you love them, you care about them, but you realize you’re just not going on the same life path? Like, you wish you were, and you'd do anything to make that a possibility, but, no matter how you try, you’re just… not?”
She frowned. “Actually, I don’t know what that’s like… though, it sounds terrible!”
I laughed. “You must have had pretty perfect relationships, then,” I answered as I sipped my beer.
“Something like that…” she said, continuing with her Long Island.
“Are you in a perfect relationship now?” I asked.
“No, actually, I’m in a horribly toxic relationship with Beasley University these days.”
“Ahh…” I smiled. “A relationship you’re not ready to end, I take it?”
“Not yet, not quite. See, I’m a little financially dependent on the outcome of our relationship, so I’m waiting it out a year until I can get on my feet.”
I liked this kid; she was cute and smart. I liked a little wit with my flirting.
“A year until graduation, huh? And what degree, might I ask?”
“Civil engineering.”
“Wow, nice. I’d always wished I’d had the brain for a STEM degree. Decent job security and good money.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” she told me, “but who knows how it’ll really turn out. What about you? What line of work are you in? Or, what degree are you going for, if you’re still in school?”
“Not in school.” I shook my head. “Never was, actually, and I have no plans. I’m a musician, actually. Yes, a starving musician, the stereotype holds.”
She looked me up and down. “Don’t look starving to me.”
“I guess you can thank my ex for that,” I told her. “She had the money. She kept me well-fed. I was the heart in the relationship, she was
the function.”
“And that’s what killed it, I take it?” she asked.
“Pretty much. Eventually someone working at a big fancy corporation making ridiculous amounts of money isn't going to have interest in a failing musician, no matter how creative and loving she may be.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, don’t be,” I said, trying to play it off. “I’m really looking for a change of scenery. And I’m excited to be a little more independent. Where my ex and I used to live, there was no opportunity to do street performance and earn a little cash.”
“Is that how you make money, street performance?” she asked.
“Oh, that and other things. I plan to start offering guitar lessons pretty soon here, and I’d love to get a paying gig now and then. But, honestly, street performance is a love of mine. I love the bare-naked interaction you get with other people, you know? It’s just so raw and real. If I could get paid to do that for the rest of my life and just make enough money to get by, I’d be happy.”
She nodded, seeming to take all this information in slowly.
“I really admire that,” she finally said. “I’ve never been the kind of person who’s comfortable without security. I’m not really one to want a lot of money or luxury in life, so I’d be fine just getting by and paying my bills, but the uncertainty of it all would drive me crazy.”
I smiled. Usually, when I talked about my career ambitions or lack thereof, I felt like people were judging me. She seemed to genuinely appreciate my point of view. It was a nice change of pace.
“It certainly isn’t for everyone, but I’ve always been naturally spontaneous. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, but something about a scheduled and certain life bores me to death.”
She laughed. “I’d bore you to death, then. Everything about my life is scheduled and certain.”
I looked at the way her mouth wrinkled softly in the corners as she smiled, and I was in awe of just how beautiful she was.
“I don’t think you could ever bore me,” I said, rather boldly.
She started to blush and smile but didn't say anything in return.