by Holly Rayner
If so, then I don’t want to move on.
Burying my face in my hands, I steady my breathing. My thoughts are running out of control. Of course continuing forward in life doesn’t mean denying everything that’s happened. My grief counselor has been over this with me. Everything I’m experiencing right now is normal.
My phone pings. Grateful for the distraction, I dig it from my purse. It’s a text from one of my regular clients, Shay Phillips. I cut back on work significantly these past few months, but Shay’s one of the people I’ve continued to clock in hours for. Even though she lives in Ohio, the business I run remotely has allowed us to work together over the last three years.
As it turns out, the text isn’t about work at all.
I read it quickly, then read it again. By the time I finish it a third time, I’m grinning.
After responding to Shay, I send a text to my best friend Laura to see if she can meet for coffee. This is something I definitely need to talk over.
Thirty minutes later, I’m sitting in the corner of Leaf, the coffee shop a block from my apartment, surrounded by their signature potted and hanging plants, sipping an iced tea and wondering if I’m about to make the best or worst possible choice for myself.
The door opens, and Laura breezes in, looking like the goddess she always does in a flowing maxi dress and with her blond waves all over the place. She’s Venus bursting out of that giant shell, and every guy in the coffee shop stops what they’re doing to take note.
Ignoring them, Laura gives me a tight hug and then sits across from me.
“What’s up?” she asks, taking the sunglasses off her head and twirling them in her hand. It’s impossible for her to sit still without having something to do. “You doing okay? Did you get that article about meditation and healing? I sent it to your personal email. You’re checking that, right?”
Another thing about Laura? She’s all about the non-stop questions. Ignoring them for the moment, I bring up Shay’s text and hand my friend the phone.
“Look at this. What do you think?”
Laura’s eyebrows knit together as she reads. “She has a house in Ohio you can stay at for the summer…” she murmurs. “Because she’s going to Europe now through August… Okay.”
Wearing a skeptical look, she passes the phone back to me.
“What?” I ask. “Someone’s offering me a place to stay at for free all summer long.”
“Yeah, in Ohio.”
“What’s wrong with Ohio?” I jut my chin at her.
“It’s…” She twirls her wrist. Right. Like that explains her judgmental attitude.
“Have you ever been there?” I ask.
“Have you?”
“I asked first,” I laugh.
Laura smiles, her eyes twinkling. “Is that what you want? To leave the greatest city in the world for a whole summer?”
“I’ve spent my entire life in the greatest city in the world,” I sigh. “In the grand scheme of things, it won’t be that long.”
“What if you’re the only Latina there?”
“Doubtful.”
“Hey, you don’t know.”
I roll my eyes. “Have you ever left the greater New York area?”
“Yeah, but don’t tell anyone.” She winks. “I have my street cred to think about.”
“Mm-hmm.” I sip my iced tea. Maybe she’s giving me a hard time, but I’m pretty sure she’s only joking around.
Actually, it doesn’t matter if she is or not. I texted her for some advice, but the more I talk about this opportunity, the more I feel certain it’s right for me.
“I can’t see you in the Midwest,” Laura says. “A born and bred Brooklyn girl.”
“Yep. That’s why it might be exactly why I need to go. Being here… it’s not easy.”
I drop my gaze, not even wanting to talk about this. Grief has colored my entire existence the past six years. Five years after my dad’s death, I thought I was finally getting used to living without him around, but then came my mom’s cancer diagnosis.
I’m tired of mourning. Tired of this hollow feeling that’s in my gut no matter what I do or where I go.
“I need a change,” I whisper.
Laura doesn’t respond. Looking up, I find her nodding, her eyes wet.
“Yeah.” She sniffles. “I do get that.”
“It’s good to know that Mom isn’t in pain anymore,” I say. “That’s the one thing that I can be happy about right now.”
“But you’re in pain.”
“Yeah,” I say, surprised at how Laura suddenly seems to get it. “The apartment reminds me of her. This whole city reminds me of her. I think I need some new surroundings, something to, I dunno, wake me up. Help me see the world fresh.”
Laura reaches across the table, her hand closing over mine. “Yeah, that makes sense. When would you leave?”
“Shay said the place is available starting tomorrow,” I remind her.
Laura’s jaw drops. “You’d leave that soon?”
“I’m already taking a leave of absence. I’m not doing anything. Well, other than going crazy.”
“I’ll miss you.”
Turning my palm over, I squeeze her hand. “I’ll miss you, too.”
“What’s the town like that she lives in?”
“Huh. I dunno.”
Withdrawing my hand from hers, I pull out my phone and search for Sterling, Ohio. Ignoring the websites that pop up, I click on the image results.
I tried not to get my hopes up and expect anything like the cute, tiny, all-American towns I’ve seen on TV and in the movies, but Sterling really doesn’t seem that far off from ideal. It has a square downtown with a big, white courthouse in the middle of it, a paved walkway running alongside a river, and a soda shop that looks like it could be from the fifties.
“Not bad,” Laura says, leaning across the table so we can study the pictures together. “But what about guys?”
“You want me to search for ‘Sterling, Ohio hotties’?” I laugh.
Her nose wrinkles. “Better not do that in a public place, but you could put the address into a dating app.”
My phone goes back into my purse. “I’m not looking to date right now.”
“Are you sure? What about distracting yourself? Getting a fresh perspective?”
“Not with a man.”
“Okay.” She sits back in her seat, the easy surrender unlike her. Surprise must be all over my face, because she goes on. “You do you, girl. This is your time. Maybe this is a bad way to look at it, but you’re finally, well…”
The sentence doesn’t need finishing. I’m free. After years of caring for an ill parent, my life is my own again.
And it’s extremely confusing.
“Having choices isn’t the party it’s made out to be,” I grumble, mashing my straw against a melting ice cube.
“You’re telling me.”
We share a laugh, and a sense of peace washes over me, but only for a moment.
My mom is gone.
I’m on my own.
Sure, I have Laura and my other friends, plus my aunt and uncle, who live in Jersey. And yet… something is missing.
As an only child, the luxury of receiving two peoples’ complete attention was normal for me. Growing up, it became only right for me to switch roles and become everything my mom needed, especially after Dad died and Mom got sick.
Now it’s like I’m starting life all over again. It’s liberating, but terrifying.
“Hey.” Laura’s voice is soft. She reaches across the table and sets her hand on my arm. “I think this is a great idea. If Ohio doesn’t work out, you can always come home early, right?”
That brightens my mood. “Yeah. I can.”
“Good.” She squeezes my arm.
“I’m gonna do it.” Taking a deep breath, I nod—more to myself than to her.
“When?”
“Soon as I can get everything together.” Pausing, I mentally run over a l
ist of what I need to do before leaving town. Turns out, it’s incredibly short. Work is on hold, and I don’t have any pets. Shay’s house is completely furnished. All I need to do is pack some clothes, books, and whatever else I want to bring with to keep myself preoccupied. I’ll ease back into work while I’m there, but I still won’t need to bring much other than my computer and tablet.
“Tomorrow,” I say decisively.
Laura’s eyes go wide. “Wow. Okay. That soon.”
“There’s really no reason for me to wait any longer.”
“Man, I’ll miss you.”
I pout. “I’ll miss you, too.”
“Maybe I can come visit.”
“You’d do that?” I ask. “You’d come visit me in Ohio?”
She winks. “Only for my best friend in the world.”
Laughing, I stand. If I’m leaving town tomorrow, I need to get packing and make sure the car I hardly ever drive is in good enough shape for a road trip. Plus, maybe see about renting a trailer. My design board would be a nice addition to the trip, and that probably won’t fit in the car.
Laura gives me a tight hug. “Let me know if you need anything before you go.”
“Okay,” I say. “I will.”
We hug one more time, and I expect the moment to be bittersweet, but it’s not. This is the right choice. A break will refresh my spirit, and I’ll be back in New York soon enough.
Finally letting Laura go, I wave and step out into the steamy afternoon. The air is different than it was thirty minutes ago, full of opportunity and excitement.
Whatever’s coming next, it’s sure to be worthwhile.
Chapter 2
Julia
Turns out, leaving your home within a day’s notice isn’t that easy. Not unless you’re fleeing the mob and need to slip away pronto.
First of all, I had to find someone to sublet my apartment to. Since I’ve been taking a substantial time off work, there’s not much money in my bank account to waste. Luckily, it didn’t take me long to find a subletter.
After that came the issue of getting the trailer, packing everything I wanted to into it, and maneuvering that sucker through Big Apple traffic.
Finally free from city noises and smog, I roll the windows down and allow the air to kiss my cheeks and toss my hair. The extra weight on the car slows me down, but it doesn’t matter. I have nowhere to be anytime soon, the only responsibility waiting for me in Ohio being Shay’s plants, which need to be watered twice a week.
The drive passes easily, thanks to my favorite playlists and a bag of snacks. A little more than eight hours to Ohio means I’m rolling across the state border with several hours of daylight left to go.
The pictures were nice, but Sterling is even better in person. Tree-lined streets carve their way through a town where kids play in yards and old people sit and talk on benches. There are dogs everywhere, and the air has a fresh, hopeful quality to it.
My GPS takes me through downtown, where my eyes nearly bug out at sheer number of available parking spots. Catching sight of a cafe, I ease my trailer into a nearby parking lot (which, apparently, anyone can use—this is so not New York).
A bell sings as I push open the door, and a girl with a round, smiling face greets me from across the shop like she’s been waiting for me all day.
“Hi!”
“Um, hi,” I respond, all too aware of the patrons’ eyes on me.
Is it weird to have someone new in this town? Do they even like strangers here?
I make my way slowly up to the counter, shaking off the paranoia.
“What can I get you?” the girl, a brunette who is probably a few years younger than me, asks.
“I dunno. Something cold, for sure, but I’ve never been here. Do you have a specialty?”
The girl props her elbows on the counter and leans into them. “Where are you from?”
“New York.”
Her voice rises a whole octave. “Like the city?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh my gosh. I’ve always wanted to go there. What are you doing here?” Her gaze rakes over me.
“I’m staying here for the summer.”
“Oh, you’re summering?” She’s not making fun of me. She says it like “summering” is a real thing.
Which maybe it is. Just not for me.
“Something like that,” I laugh.
She straightens up and winks. “I know what to get you. How do you feel about lavender?”
“Very positively.”
“One iced lavender latte coming up!”
Her hands are a flurry of activity as she pulls the shot, fills a cup with ice, and mixes in the espresso, milk, and some syrup. While she works, I take a moment to better study the coffee shop. Wooden chairs and tables line the walls, and there’s a cozy red couch by the front windows. It’s definitely the kind of place where I can see myself hanging out with a book for hours.
With great pride, the girl slides the drink across the counter.
“All done. I think you’ll like it, but if you don’t…”
The first sip is heaven. “It’s amazing.”
“Yay!” She claps her hands.
I’m pulling out my wallet to pay when something I noticed before catches my eye.
“That’s really nice.” I nod at the painting of a river on a wall.
“Isn’t it?” the girl says. “It’s by a local artist.”
“Very impressive.”
She gives me my change, which I drop into the tip jar. This is usually where this kind of interaction would end, but to this barista the conversation is only getting started.
“So what do you do in New York?” She clutches the edge of the counter, holding her breath.
“I’m a graphic designer.”
“That sounds really cool and important.” Her lower lip juts out, and she glances around to see if anyone is listening before she lowers her voice. “I only work here.”
“And you’re the best at it.”
“What?” she laughs. “How would you know that?”
I point at the latte. “This is one of the best coffees I’ve ever had,” I answer honestly.
“Then you’ll come back, right? We have open mic tonight. Sometimes I read poetry at it.”
“That sounds nice. Maybe I will come by for that. I’m Julia, by the way.” I offer my hand for a shake, which is enthusiastically accepted.
“Magnolia.”
A big name for a big personality. Her parents must have been psychics.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, “and I’ll definitely be back.”
There are no gazes on me as I leave the coffee shop. Could be I imagined them the first time.
Outside, it’s still sunshine and peace. Hopping back behind the wheel, I get the GPS going again.
Shay’s house, it turns out, is only a few blocks from the coffee shop. She sent me pictures, but I’m still not ready for its massive size. Five of my Brooklyn apartments could easily fit into this place.
Parking in the driveway, I get out and survey the house, from the front porch with a swinging bench to the second-floor balcony that I really hope leads out from the master bedroom.
“Amazing,” I breathe.
I wish Laura was here to see this.
I wish Mom…
A lump forms in my throat.
When it became clear to everyone that Mom would pass soon, she made me promise her I would do everything in my power to see the end of her life as the opportunity to turn over a new leaf. After exerting all my energy taking care of her, she told me, she wanted me to do things I dreamed of. To travel. To explore.
“Well, Mom,” I whisper, “here I am. I’m doing it. What do you think?”
A blue butterfly flits in front of me, making me smile. Mom loved butterflies. If one appearing now is supposed to be a sign, I’ll take it.
The key is in the coded lockbox near the front door. The second I get the front door open, my face takes a blissful hit of
air. Closing my eyes, I sigh happily.
Thank you, Shay.
Sterling might be cute, friendly, and boasting fresh air, but it’s also June. Props to my benefactor for leaving the AC running.
First things first, I do a quick walk-through of the house. It’s furnished nicely, with a queen bed upstairs and a set of leather furniture in the living room, and while there are photos of what I assume are friends and family on the walls, there’s something lacking.
It’s not until I’m standing in the middle of the kitchen, admiring the top-tier appliances, that I understand what it is.
There’s no personality here. It’s the home of a woman who is all work, no play.
My heart sinks a bit. Is the writer who’s in New York for a summer program and subletting my apartment thinking the same thing? That my place, although well cared for, screams that its owner has no social life?
The thought makes me nibble my bottom lip. Maybe part of Mom asking me to go out and follow some dreams after her passing had to do with her understanding something I didn’t: that I was becoming dangerously close to making work my whole life.
It’s not a crime to be career-focused. My parents always pushed me to put education and work high on my list of priorities.
But…
I can’t lie. With Mom gone, there’s not much left in my life other than my job and the few friends I see here and there. No real hobbies. No boyfriend.
It’s another truth I need to shake off. Especially the boyfriend part. Yeah, having a guy in my life would be nice, but like I told Laura, that’s not what this period is about.
I’m taking a rest. Rediscovering myself.
Heading back outside, I get to work opening the trailer and unloading the boxes. Getting them into the trailer was easy enough, since one of my neighbors helped me out. Here, it’s different.
I get several boxes of clothes inside, where I set them in the living room. First comes simply moving everything into the house. After that, I’ll sort and put away the stuff.
The clothes taken care of, I climb into the trailer to get a box labeled “Art Books.” It’s gotta be the heaviest of them all.
These could have been left behind… if you’re not me. Instead of reading a novel or watching TV before I pass out at night, I like to flip through art books. I have my favorites, and if I’m going to have an enjoyable summer not bringing them with wasn’t an option.