2. Carolina
Chapter two
Carolina
W hen I bring my car to a stop at the bottom of the steep driveway, I glance up at the house and smile. Painted in shades of blue, the 1980s build is surrounded by mature pines and Garry oaks. The neighbourhood isn’t all that different from the one I grew up in. Bikes lie on front lawns and family vehicles fill in the driveways. Curved flagstone stairs lead up to the door of the main floor, but the entrance to my new place is down a level, to the left of the garage door. Leaning up against the door is my older brother, arms folded over his chest and an impatient expression on his face.
I’m not sure where I’m supposed to park, but I’m not about to lug a trunk load of boxes up this hill. I creep up the drive, stopping a few feet from the door. Chris jabs at the face of his watch with exaggerated movements. Ignoring him, I slip my purse over my shoulder and pull my curls out from under the strap. I heft the cast iron pan that my mom insisted I take with me from the passenger's seat and step out of the car.
“I can’t stay long,” he says in place of a greeting.
“You didn’t need to come at all. You could have simply given me the key, Chris.”
He was the last occupant of the ground level suite below his buddy Berg’s place. Leave it to my brother to think I can’t even open a door by myself.
“Why do you have a pan?”
“Ask mom. She got all emotional this morning about me moving out and then started scouring the house for things to give me. Apparently this,” I hoist the heavy cookware up a few inches, “is something I need. Oh, and she snuck cookies into my purse when she thought I wasn’t watching.”
That perks my brother up, and he reaches into my open bag in search of mom’s baking.
“Paws off. Those are my moving day cookies.”
“I haven’t had breakfast,” he complains, holding one of the chocolate chip laden treats aloft in triumph. “Finders fee for the apartment.”
Crumbs fall from his open mouth onto his blue button up flannel.
It was Chris’s idea to ask his friend if I could move into his recently vacated place. My brother moved in with his girlfriend, Anna, in her downtown condo recently while they renovate a beachfront property. I’ve overstayed my welcome on Mom and Dad’s couch, and this is the best option.
Coming home after almost three years of travelling and finding out that your mom turned your bedroom into an office wasn’t quite the warm welcome I had been envisioning. But, to be fair, I gave them exactly zero notice of my return. And who actually wants their twenty-five-year-old daughter taking up residence on their living room couch? But the way mom kept tearing up this morning? It made me realise that no matter how old your kids get, it's hard to say goodbye. Even if they’re only moving ten minutes down the road.
“Mmm.” Chris wipes his hands on his thighs. “Okay, let’s do this.”
I shove the ten-pound pan against his chest, smiling when he lets out a deep oof.
"The box on the top is the heaviest," I tell him, smiling as he sets the pan down and begins helping me unpack my trunk.
A few minutes later, I lean over my pile of boxes, catching my breath. “This is everything.”
“Here you go.” He pulls a key from his pocket, a blue, metallic object dangling from it.
“What the hell is on it?”
“A fishing lure. It’s hard to lose.”
“Um, thanks. I think I can keep my keys in check.” The only thing I’m planning to lose is that damn lure the minute he leaves .
I twist the key in the lock, turn the handle, and give a gentle push, but nothing happens.
“Oh, yeah, the door is a bit sticky. I think the wood has swelled.”
Chris takes over, and it opens easily enough. So the place isn’t perfect? It’s good enough for me. He slides the boxes over the threshold with a thump.
“Light switch is on the left.”
I pat the wall down, finding the switch.
“How’s your place coming along?”
He groans. “Don’t ask.”
“That bad?”
“Bit more time and money than we expected.”
We toured the construction site last week. I tried to be interested in the logistical parts of the renovation, but a girl can only listen to so much talk about joists and joinery. I wandered off to the patio that overlooks the Pacific. White caps dotted the stormy blue seas, the Olympic mountains in the distance. Who doesn’t want to wake up to the sound of waves crashing on the beach? I know my brother has a few years on me, but I feel so behind in life as I plod away in my bartending job with my beater car and my thrift store sweaters.
“I barely remembered what this place looked like,” I say, tapping my fingers on the granite bar where two wooden stools sit below it.
“Well, you were gone for a long time. ”
I don’t miss the thread of hurt in his voice. I didn’t mean to be away for so long. But I was stupid and hoped that maybe I’d find some way to recoup my money. Instead, I made it worse, living beyond my means and alienating the people that loved me by avoiding them.
“Are you sure this is okay? Berg didn’t want to rent it to someone more…affluent? I know what an apartment in this neighbourhood can go for.”
He shrugs and I move into the living space. It’s tastefully decorated and surprisingly warm in feel. Can I tell that a single male lived here? Sure. But there’s no stark white walls and, thankfully, a total lack of naked lady calendars.
But I bet he only took those down when he met Anna.
“I was gonna move out, anyway. Besides, you needed to get out of Mom and Dad’s. Accept the help. It’s a good place in a nice area while you wait for school to start back up.”
How many hours of sleep have I lost these past weeks scouring the internet for rentals? They fell into two categories. Nice and clean, which made them prohibitively expensive, or affordable but complete dumps. That or they were so outside the city limits that I’d spend a fortune on gas. I shudder at the idea of my car breaking down somewhere random. Besides, it comes furnished, and my bank account is running empty. When Chris told me that Berg had no issue with me being his next tenant, it felt like the first win I’ve had in a while.
I really thought I had the frugal travel thing figured out. I remember creating a freaking PowerPoint to illustrate to my parents that I wasn’t half-assing my trip. Sure, I was an adult when I left, but that didn’t mean they weren’t worried about me. It was important for me to prove to them (and myself) that even though I was choosing to leave my psychology program at university, I’d at least thought this through. Accommodations, food, transportation, incidentals. There was so much to account for. But it was way easier to overspend than I’d expected, especially when I met Emilio. It wasn’t romantic, not like that. In fact, he doesn’t swing my way anyhow. I altered my itinerary to match his, hung out with all of his friends, and lost sight of my budget.
After months of hanging out together, I counted him as one of my closest friends. When he asked me to borrow money for a business venture that sounded rock solid, I agreed. My intuition must have been broken that day. It wasn’t until our ‘repayment plan’ fell through and his excuses stopped adding up that I saw the red flags whipping in the wind. That was the money I had saved to get me through the last months of my trip and the money I was hanging onto so I could finish my degree. The worst part was that he didn’t even have to steal the money. I handed it right over like an absolute idiot.
“Don’t you want to take some of this stuff with you?” I ask, noting his full bookshelves as I peruse the space.
“Nah, I’ve got what I need for now. Anna has everything and, believe it or not, her place is smaller than this. Maybe I’ll come get some of it when we get into the beach house. So, are you looking forward to school in the fall? ”
I nod even though an acidic taste blooms on my tongue. “Mmm hmm!”
“Good. Mom and Dad are so excited. First person to earn a Bachelor’s in the family and all that.”
A mild wave of nausea forms in my stomach. Keeping the fact that I lost money to myself was one thing, but telling everyone I was all set to return to school in September was extra stupid. I’m not even registered. When I called Chris out of the blue from Spain asking for money but not being able to explain why, I begged him not to ask more questions. I told him I overspent, and that I didn’t want to dip into my school savings.
Chris is a good brother, but I haven’t been fully honest with him, because I’m not sure he’ll understand. I can’t take the scolding. There isn’t anything he could say to me I haven’t already said to myself. He wasn’t too keen on Emilio whenever I mentioned grabbing supper with him or meeting up again in a new city. I should have listened.
“I miss it here, you know? I missed you,” I say, hoping that satisfies his doubts.
“Missed you too, sis.” He wraps me up in a tight hug, lifting me enough that my toes graze the floor.
He releases me and heads for the door.
“This month is already paid for, but Berg says he can be pretty flexible.”
Inwardly, I wince. How flexible are we talking? Can I pay him in dryer lint? Now that Chris is leaving, a million questions pop into my head. When is garbage day? Can I park in the driveway? Are the kids loud? But a different question bursts out of my mouth.
“What’s he like?”
Chris makes a face and shrugs. “Berg? Busy. Older. Kinda grouchy, to be honest.”
I’ve never even met the man and now he’s my landlord. Using grouchy as an adjective to describe him isn’t exactly giving me hope here.
“Fantastic,” I breathe, following my brother to the door to watch him climb in his Jeep.
Chris pauses, one foot on the runner.
“Berg is usually home by 4:30 or so.”
“Okay?”
“Don’t you think you might want to knock on his door? Introduce yourself?”
Talk money…
The idea of talking about my finances, or lack thereof, with some middle-aged grump gives me hives. I scratch my scalp where my messy bun has been tugging on the roots for too long.
“You know what? I’ll text him.” Chris shifts his focus to his phone screen. “Done. 4:30? Okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll do that.”
“It’s good to have you back, Caro.”
“It’s good to be back,” I say.
And that’s one of those autopilot lies. Because it isn’t good to be back, not really. Aside from getting reacquainted with my family, which has had its own challenges, there’s nothing here for me right now. Chris has his girlfriend and his business, Dad works on his car, Mom is knee deep in volunteering, using my old room as a control station to battle invasive plant species, and I’m stuck. Trapped under the weight of a dumb decision. And I’m so damn doubtful about whether I have the strength to start over.