Oakley
Nine
Inearly collide with Tonia as I rush through the door of the office. The woman is clearly on her way out, if the canvas tote bag slung over her shoulder is any indication.
“I’m so sorry, dear! I didn’t see you there.” She gives a light laugh, and I return it with an awkward one of my own.
“Oh! It’s so nice to meet you.” Her hand is warm and delicate in mine, and a bit of my nerves ease with the gesture. “I’m actually on my way out, but I have a few minutes for us to chat.”
Dread pools as my stomach plummets, and I already know what she’s about to say before she even opens her mouth.
You’d think having a worst-case-scenario mind would prepare you for rejection like this.
But if anything, it makes the lingering minutes between what you know is coming and the actual delivery of the bad news utter mental and emotional torture.
Tonia gestures to a brown leather armchair, and I take a seat, clutching my hands together in my lap while picking nervously at my cuticles.
“I’m sorry I missed our appointment yesterday. I didn’t know there was construction on Maple Avenue, so I had to go around. But then I got lost, and I—”
She stops my rambling with a gentle hand on my knee as she leans forward in her chair.
“I’m the one who should be apologizing, Oakley.
When I left you that voicemail, the apartment was still available, and I had every intention of showing it to you today.
But on my way out, another potential tenant approached me and offered the entire first year’s rent plus security if they could move in today.
I’m sure you’ve noticed, but this is a small town, and well, business doesn’t come around too often.
” Cutting straight to the chase. No warmup. Cool.
I try to tamp down my irritation that she didn’t think to—I don’t know—call me back to let me know the apartment is no longer available?
My heart sinks to my toes as her words settle over me like a suffocating blanket.
In the span of a few minutes, my carefully crafted escape plan goes up in flames.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and nod my head, giving her what I’m sure is a pained smile that probably suggests I have a stomachache rather than reassures her that I understand.
“No, it’s alright, Tonia. I completely understand.
” I’m lying through my teeth, but she appears visibly relieved at my acceptance, letting out a puff of air as her shoulders drop.
The words taste like ash on my tongue, and there’s a faint buzzing in my ears as I try to beat back the panic thundering in my head.
It’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay. She pats my knee before standing and giving me a sympathetic look.
“I’ll hang onto your number, and if any other apartment becomes available, you’ll be the first to know.”
I nod absently and follow her out the door, my body moving on autopilot as I climb back into my car. Tonia gives a small wave as she passes me and speeds down the main road in her silver Lexus.
Yeah, tough times.
I thought I hit rock bottom when I came home from work to find my kitchen littered with empty beer bottles, only to be screamed at when I didn’t have more in my hands.
I thought I hit it the first time Travis got so angry with me for staying out late studying at the library that he’d smashed his fist through the window right next to my head, glass raining down around me and cutting my face.
I thought I hit it the first time he ever hit me.
And then again the next time, and the next time, and the time after that.
I thought I hit rock bottom every single time I believed his saccharine words of apology that somehow always ended with him inside me, whether I wanted it or not.
But this? This feeling of finally having the courage to leave and take back control of my life, only to have my carefully crafted plan crumble around me? Having a miniscule taste of freedom only to be set back at every single turn?
This is my real rock bottom.
It feels like there’s no way up and out from under the waves of my own circumstances.
Maybe that’s the thing about rock bottom.
The farther you fall, the higher the pressure, and the harder it is to rise back to the surface.
I thought I was well on my way to freedom—to light, to air, to sky—and to a normal life again.
But now, all I feel is the crushing weight of the waves around me.
It seems like such an insignificant thing to splinter over after everything I endured for months, but I guess that’s the thing about rock bottom.
You never know what will finally break you.
I spend the rest of the day sitting on the lumpy motel mattress and staring at the wall. I can practically hear my parents in the back of my mind spouting some inspirational bullshit that they think will suddenly fix all my problems. If only they knew.
With nowhere else to go after leaving the apartment complex, I made my way back to the motel and handed over the credit card I saved only for emergencies, asking the attendant—a young college kid named Adam—to book me for an indefinite stay.
Clearly, I have bigger problems to worry about at the moment than credit card debt.
Only when my stomach rumbles do I remember that if I actually want to live another day to figure my shit out, I should probably start with taking care of the basic needs.
I have somewhere to stay right now. It’s a far cry from the homey apartment I had my heart set on, but it will have to do.
Sure, the motel is outdated, but it’s mostly clean, safe, and for the time being, mine.
Plus, it’s situated right in the center of town and within walking distance of the small grocery store and other local businesses I’m excited to check out once I’m more settled.
I stand from the bed and grab my car keys, deciding that I’ve spent more than enough time sulking.
Over the next half hour, I empty my car and bring all my belongings inside, then head to the store to stock up on some essentials.
The grocery store is small, but has everything I need.
Surprisingly, the prices aren’t as expensive as I would have expected for the only gig in town.
I stock up on some basics: cleaning products, coffee, and enough ramen to feed an army, along with some miscellaneous toiletries, and a bag of chocolate chip cookies locally made here in North Creek, according to the packaging.
I sneak one out as I finish up my shopping and moan as the cookie practically dissolves in my mouth, the chocolatey goodness melting over my tongue and lighting up my tastebuds.
I’m going to have to grab another bag of these.
I’m not convinced they’re going to survive the three-minute drive back to the motel.
On the way to the checkout line, I pass a small display of souvenir signs and stop to browse, riffling through them.
Each one is different, and I find it strangely charming that each is only one of a kind.
After some digging, I find a rustic wooden one that reads, “The Mountains Are Calling And I Must Go” in looping letters, with the silhouette of the Adirondack Mountains behind it.
Beneath the quote sits the name “John Muir.” I have no clue who that is, but he might have been on to something.
The saying is so fitting that I place it on the conveyor belt with the rest of my items before I talk myself out of spending the money on it.
“Hi! You’re new here.”
The female cashier standing behind the counter looks to be close in age to my twenty-six years.
She’s smiling so wide that her brown eyes crinkle at the edges.
Dark brown hair frames her face in loose curls that hang down past her shoulders, and a smattering of sun-darkened freckles grace the bridge of her nose.
Dainty gold jewelry adorns her small wrists and neck, accentuated by small golden hoops in her ears.
She’s adorable, and her warm smile and bright eyes make me like her instantly.
I return her smile, hoping that it reaches my eyes and that I don’t look as tired as I feel. If she notices, she doesn’t let on as she begins scanning the items.
“It won’t be long before the whole town knows it, too,” I say, and I instantly regret the resentment that finds its way into the words.
I’m not bothered by the fact that everyone knows I’m new here—small town living and all—but I guess I had hoped I would have a little more time to settle in before everyone began to take notice.
She continues her scanning, not missing a beat. “Oh yeah. That’s small-town life for ya. But no newcomers ever get away unscathed, so don’t feel too bad about it. Soon enough, another piece of gossip will come along, and everyone will be onto the next new thing. I’m Jessie, by the way.”
“Oakley. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Well, Oakley, welcome to North Creek. If you ever find yourself in need of a tour guide, I’m your gal.
” Her bubbly personality is infectious, and my spirits lift a fraction.
“Seriously. I lead group hikes for the tourists that come through town. You’re more than welcome to join if you’d like.
” She finishes scanning and reads out my total, taking the card I hold out to her.
“Thanks, Jessie. That sounds great.”
The register chimes—confirmation that my card went through—and she hands me back the card. A small win, but a win nonetheless.
“No problem at all. I’ll see ya around!”
I give her a little wave and grab my bags before stepping back out into the sunshine. I load them into my back seat before making the short drive back to the motel.
Once I park, I haul the bags up my arms to make it in one trip—Dad didn’t raise a quitter—and wrestle the door open, kicking it shut behind me.
I unceremoniously dump the bags on the bed and pop some ramen into the microwave before unloading the rest of the bags.
I set the cleaning items to the side while my meal cooks.
I scarf down the noodles before they’ve cooled, singeing my tongue, and follow it with a gulp of water from the case I got at the store.
Now that there’s something in my stomach, I start to clean.
Spraying and wiping away the fine layer of dust covering the surface of the furniture, I enjoy the alternative rock music that plays from the speaker of my phone.
I lose myself in the task, enjoying the routine of cleaning and bringing a shine to something that was otherwise dull. When I finish nearly two hours later, I stop to swipe a hand across my sweaty forehead and survey my work.
The room is still outdated, but it feels more like mine. For the first time since arriving in town, the pride and accomplishment that comes with making a space my own flows through me. It might not be what I originally planned for myself, but it’s a start.
My thoughts flit back to the shadow that always seems to be looming over me, and I realize my phone hasn’t chimed once with any unwanted calls or texts since the ones I received yesterday. Maybe the spotty mountain service is a blessing in disguise.
You are okay.
You are safe.
He can’t find you here.
Through the windows, the summer sun is fading on yet another day of unknowns, sinking behind the mountains and bathing them in patches of golden sunlight.
The view is partially obstructed by the buildings in town, but beyond them, the mountains stand tall and proud, beckoning me to discover the secrets they have to share.
The ones that can only be found by standing at their peaks.
Maybe I will take advantage of Jessie’s offer to show me the local hiking trails. I’ve read countless stories of people who found themselves in nature. The idea always intrigued me, having never experienced something like that firsthand. Maybe I’ll find a little of myself among the trees, too.
I push a tack into the wood paneling between the window and the front door, feeling a little bad about the hole I’m creating, but I quickly brush the thought aside.
I hang the rustic sign from the twine loop on the tack and take a step back to examine my work.
Now, with the sign visible every time I leave the room, I’m reminded exactly why I came to this small town.
Grabbing my sweatshirt, I shrug it on and slip into my sandals before grabbing my keys and closing the door behind me.
I step out into the crisp mountain air and wonder what adventure awaits me.