Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
A NNIE
My phone rings again for the third time in the last twelve minutes. I’ve been making the multiple trips to carry my groceries up the steep flight of narrow steps to my new apartment.
Why did I choose to rent a place without an elevator again?
It sure wasn’t for all the sass I got from the movers as they navigated up the tight steps of the gorgeous, converted, multi-unit brick house I now call home. Well, at least the top level is home.
The first floor is occupied by the DePaul family, my new landlords, and their five-year-old twins, Sammy and Sarah.
I love the house, but a huge selling point for me was that they accepted pets since I wasn’t leaving Columbus without Bean. Though the freeloader practically eats me out of house and home, I wouldn’t trade him for the world.
I also love that there is a cozy balcony off the back of my unit, so I can enjoy my coffee or a glass of wine out there if I need to clear my thoughts when I get into my head too much.
The landlords also agreed to a six-month lease followed by month to month, which was what I was hoping for in case I hate it here.
I’m almost at the top of the stairs when that damn phone rings again. Time to face the music, I guess.
“Hello, Mom,” I answer, trying to catch my breath and mentally preparing myself for the guilt trip I know is coming… again.
“Anna Elizabeth, were you going to bother to reach out today so I know you made it safely?” Her high-pitched tone means a lecture will follow.
“You know your sister would never do this to me.”
There it is. Again. I’m not Kelly and therefore I’m a disappointment. Never mind that I basically raised Kelly for the last four years of her childhood. By some small miracle, I was able to help her grow into a somewhat well-adjusted human being.
“Mom, first, remember that I texted you when I arrived last night, and second,I didn’t move across the country. I’m two hours away,” I defend myself.
“Well, surely, you know—” she tries to cut me off.
“And I didn’t ‘do’ anything to you. I’m not trying to hurt you. I did this for myself. I needed to do this. Please support me in this. I couldn’t be there anymore after… everything. It hurt too much.”
I hope that if I share with her how I feel, maybe she’ll understand and not continue to fight with me about this move.
My mom wasn’t always like this. Don’t get me wrong, she was never the doting parent, and she had ridiculously high, almost unattainable, expectations for us. But we knew she loved us, even if she struggled to express it .
I know that’s probably all rooted in how she grew up, but sometimes that’s hard to remember when she’s being hurtful. After Dad was gone, it seemed like it all got worse, though, and we no longer had him there as the buffer—the parent who made us know we were loved without question.
I try to stay patient over the next ten minutes as I unpack my groceries to stock my new place, but the endless barrage of comments about how selfish I am being, and how I’ve proven my point and should just come home, is wearing on me.
“…and you know Jason didn’t mean anything by it. He was just sowing oats. You really should give him another chance.”
There it goes. My waning patience topples right over the proverbial edge.
“Oh my God, Mom! Stop! Just. Stop. I’m not having this conversation again. I’m exhausted physically and emotionally right now, so I’m going to hang up. I love you, but I won’t keep having this same discussion. I’ll call later this week.”
And with that, I do it. I hang up on my mother.
Holy shit, I hung up on my mother.
I’m filled with a sense of empowerment in that I didn’t tolerate her continuing to drag me down the same road that gets us nowhere every time we discuss it. That feeling lasts for several minutes until I become a little deflated when I realize that, most likely, I’m going to hear about hanging up on her for the next month.
Once I get unpacked and put all my groceries away, I decide Bean and I should check out our new neighborhood. I place Bean’s harness on him, and we head out to explore.
Our new street has a nice feel to it. There are a lot of old houses and even some that have signage showing they’re historical homes.
I’m a sucker for old houses .
Their architecture outside is always intriguing to me but, also, I adore the features like built-in leaded glass cabinets, window benches in a dining room, or gorgeous natural woodwork found in an old home but usually not in newer developments.
The street is paved in brick, and I love the aesthetic it portrays.
There are also some children playing outside—it looks like an epic game of tag. The sound of them laughing makes me smile.
Bean and I continue on our way, basking in the joyful vibe the neighborhood emits. After about forty-five minutes, we’re nearly finished with our evening walk in our new town, Elladine, and heading back home for the night.
It’s a lovely evening for mid-March and I’m a little nervous, but also filled with hope for the first time in a long time. Tomorrow, I start my new job in the ER at First City Hospital downtown. I’ve been an ER nurse since I graduated from college five years ago and I know without a doubt it’s what I’m meant to do.
Back in Columbus, I had a great work family, but I knew I couldn’t stay there after everything that happened. I walked away from a lot… friends, an impending promotion to Assistant Nurse Manager… my comfort zone.
Oh, and my wedding that was supposed to take place next month. Can’t forget that. But hey, I needed a fresh start and the ability to make new memories, not to be weighed down by the old ones.
So, as we approach the house and a gorgeous sunset graces the sky, I scratch Bean’s head and whisper, “Here’s to new beginnings, my sweet Beanie boy.”