Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
ALLIE
After getting the teaching job yesterday, I went back to my parents’ house and started to pack my things. I haven’t told them I’m moving out yet, but even if the apartment above Rosemary’s is less than perfect, I’m pretty sure I’m going to take it.
It’s been a comfort being back with my mom and dad after the whole Brett fiasco, but the truth is I no longer need the level of support I once did.
My ex has moved on and I’m on my way to forgetting the last several years ever existed.
When memories pop up, they’re starting to feel like they’re not mine, rather something I saw on a particularly bad made-for-TV movie.
Grabbing a sweater, I make my way down the stairs. I don’t bother looking to see if anyone else is home before walking out the front door. After all, stealth is my friend and I’m on a mission to avoid Margaret at all costs.
As I park my car in front of Rosemary’s, I spot Faith standing outside the door that leads to the second story apartment.
A chill of anticipation runs through me.
The whole scene is Hallmark Channel cute, which gives me an additional boost of excitement.
While it may not be Knotting Hill or Beverly Hills like my mom’s romcom addiction has her wanting for me, it’s still an adorable setting.
It will also be my first apartment as a single woman, so that makes it significant as well.
“Hi, Faith,” I call out to my friend as I step onto the sidewalk.
She dangles a set of keys out in front of her. “Right on time!” As I approach, she turns around and unlocks the door. After opening it, she says, “After you.”
I feel a real sense of happiness flow through my veins as I climb the stairs. A new chapter is starting, and even though the last one ended poorly, I’m optimistic I’m due for some happy times.
At the landing at the top of the step, I stand aside while Faith opens the apartment door. “The cleaning people are coming this afternoon, so try to look beyond any mess left behind.”
My mouth opens as soon as I step across the threshold. I’m not one given to flights of fancy, so I’m taken aback by the feeling of rightness that envelopes me. This apartment feels like my home. “I’ll take it,” I impulsively announce.
Faith laughs. “How about a tour first?”
“Oh, I want to see everything, but also, I’ll take it.
” There’s a coat closet right inside the door that I don’t bother opening.
Instead, I walk into the kitchen and just stand there.
It’s not big but it’s perfect. All white cabinetry with gold handles, and a white subway tile backsplash that enhances the crisp and clean vibe.
I imagine a vase of brightly colored flowers on the counter, and I make a promise to myself to ensure that vision comes to fruition.
The countertop that separates the space from the living room/dining room has two bar stools tucked under it.
I can eat there and forgo a dining room table which will increase the size of my living space.
I don’t anticipate needing a dining room as it’s only me.
I haven’t so much as thought about entertaining since my breakup.
The living room is snug but perfect for one person. There are built-in bookshelves, so I should have enough room for a full-size sofa and an armchair or two. I suddenly can’t wait to go furniture shopping. I sold everything from my marital home, so I don’t even have a mattress to call my own.
Standing in front of the picture window, I look out onto Main Street and marvel at how captivating my hometown looks from this vantage point. “I love it here, Faith. I really do.”
She claps her hands together like she’s applauding for her favorite rock band. “Good! I think it’ll be perfect for you. Also,” she adds, “it comes with free coffee.”
I look around for a coffee pot and when I don’t see one, I ask, “What does that mean?”
“It means that you can come down to Rosemary’s anytime you want, and we won’t charge you for coffee.”
“I don’t remember your last tenant having that deal,” I tell her.
“That’s because he didn’t. But you’re my friend and I want to see you every day, so you get free coffee.”
I’ve never spent time with Faith outside of work, but that’s primarily because I haven’t felt very social.
Also, up until recently, Lorelai has lived here and she’s filled my need for a friend.
“I’ll be in every day,” I tell her, feeling appreciative that she’ll still be in my life. “But I’ll pay for my own coffee.”
“No dice,” she says determinedly. “Free coffee, but you can pay for your own baked goods.” Then she turns around and leads the way down the back hall. “Come look at the bedroom and bathroom.”
A continued sense of perfection envelops me as I follow along.
The bedroom isn’t large but it’s big enough to fit a queen-size bed and a chest of drawers.
The bathroom has been updated so it feels quite modern.
Except for the claw-footed tub, that is.
That looks original and wonderful. I can’t wait to move in so I can light some candles and spend my evenings soaking in a bubble bath while reading a good book.
“When can I move in?” I ask Faith.
She brushes a strand of auburn hair back that has escaped her ponytail. “It’ll be cleaned today, so you can have it as soon as tomorrow.”
“That’s perfect.”
“Don’t you want to know how much it is?” she asks. She quotes the price before I can tell her that it doesn’t matter. I want to live here at any price.
Even so, I’m surprised by how little she’s asking. “You could get a lot more,” I tell her.
“Maybe during the season,” she says, “but being that I want it filled year-round, I don’t want to gouge a fellow Elk Laker.”
For the first time since coming home, I start to feel like I might not be in a hurry to leave.
When I left for college, I was determined I would never live in Elk Lake again.
I knew bigger and better things were waiting for me and I couldn’t wait to claim my piece of a grander destiny.
Of course, that didn’t turn out like I expected.
“Thank you again, Faith,” I tell her. “Thank you for everything. I can’t wait to live here.”
Handing me the keys, she says, “I’m thrilled you’ll be calling this apartment home, even if it isn’t forever.”
I hadn’t thought about how long the lease will be for, so I ask, “Is it possible to take it for six months and negotiate from there? My new job is only temporary.”
Waving a hand in front of her face, she answers, “I’m fine with doing month-to-month. You don’t need to sign a lease.”
If that isn’t a sign that Elk Lake is from another time I don’t know what is. “I’ll give you at least a month’s notice before I leave,” I tell her.
“That’s perfect.” She adds, “I need to get back downstairs for the lunch rush, but you can stay here for as long as you want. Just leave the door unlocked for the cleaning crew.”
After she walks out, I turn and stare at my new home while starting a list of everything I’ll need to buy. I need a sofa, a bed, basic tableware, as well as bedding and towels. I don’t even have anything as insignificant as a dishcloth to call my own.
Since I don’t know how long I’ll be here, I don’t want to go crazy, but I still want to make it feel like home.
This next period, for however long it lasts, is vital to whatever comes next.
I’ve mourned with my parents, but now I’m moving into Allie’s life, the single years.
I laugh out loud. That sounds like a movie.
But who knows, maybe I’ll write a memoir someday and that will be the title.
I hang out in my new apartment for another thirty minutes, prioritizing my purchases.
Then I head down the street to the only furniture store in town.
I get a bed there but nothing else. I spend the rest of the afternoon looking in second-hand stores where I acquire a coffee table, a nightstand, a chest of drawers, and a sleeper sofa that looks brand new.
Everything will be delivered to my new apartment tomorrow, which is another giveaway what a small town Elk Lake is.
On my way home, I stop off at the grocery store and purchase a bottle of champagne along with fixings for a nice supper. I figure the best way to share this news with my parents is to get them a tiny bit tipsy while filling them full of good food. Then I’ll drop the hammer.
I drive back to my parents’ house with the windows down to let the fall air whisk through my hair. I am not the woman I thought I’d be at this age, and while that has brought me a good deal of sadness in the last months, that’s no longer the case.
My life doesn’t feel scripted like it did when I was with Brett. With him, I was his wife, and the future mother of his children. There was always a sense that I was his supporting cast, merely existing to compliment his role as the star of our show.
Now that those days are gone, I welcome the opportunity to be the main character. This is my life, and I get to live my way. I don’t have to compromise on anything, and I find that prospect positively thrilling.
It’s late afternoon by the time I get back to my parents’ house. Neither of them is home, so I unload the groceries and get busy fixing supper. At six o’clock, when they still aren’t back, I text my mom.
Me
Where are you? I made supper.
Mom
What’s wrong?
Me
What do you mean, what’s wrong?
Mom
You don’t cook.
My mom knows me so well. The truth is that I’m not cooking out of love for the task, and something is wrong—at least that’s how she’ll see it. If I’m going to stay in Elk Lake, she’ll want me at home where she can micromanage my life while trying to get me to bend to her will.
Me
Are you coming home or not?
Mom
We’re having supper at the club. But we can cancel if you need us. Do you?
Me
No need. I can talk to you in the morning.
Mom
Now you’re making me nervous.
Me
Everything is fine, Mom. Go have dinner. Have fun.
Grabbing the champagne out of the refrigerator, I pop the cork and pour a glass for myself.
Raising it in the air, I toast, “To me and to new opportunities.” After my first sip, I add, “Welcome to your new life, Allie Rogers.” Taking my maiden name back has given me a renewed sense of self I didn’t see coming.
By the time I go to bed, I’m full of excitement if not a small amount of trepidation for what is to come.