Chapter 8
The View from Above
Autumn
The thing no one warns you about living above a laundromat has got to be the fact that every time I walk through my front door, the sound from the dryers and heavy scent of the fabric softener start lulling me to sleep almost immediately.
It doesn’t matter what time of day it is; it doesn't matter what time of year.
I walk in, hear the calming sounds of clothes tumbling, and I feel sleepy.
Today was no different in that respect. I felt instantly fatigued. I kept telling myself that I needed to find a better place to live. This place was very affordable, however, and on a church secretary salary, even working six days a week, I couldn’t afford to be that choosy.
Instead of letting myself be lulled by the comforting laundry happening downstairs, it was imperative that I started packing.
Everything was in motion, and nothing could stop the wheel from rolling down the hill.
I opened the windows to get some fresh air, instantly feeling the effects of the sleep-inducing Downy wearing off.
In my small hallway closet, I pulled out my suitcase and duffle bag, the only luggage I owned.
What does one take to a fire tower, I wondered?
The chances of me seeing people on the day-to-day were slim, thankfully.
Still, standing in front of my tiny bedroom closet, I was paralyzed with choices.
I started by grabbing my favorite jeans and a couple button-up western shirts.
Just because I wasn’t being seen, didn’t mean I couldn’t feel my best, right?
I then took some casual items, just in case.
Well, reporting for work in sweatpants, no matter the job, just felt wrong in some way.
In fact, I decided that dressing in frumpy sweatpants would only make things worse for me, so I removed those from my duffle.
The best thing about living above a laundromat? All of my clothes smelled clean. Everything in my apartment smelled clean. People always said they could smell me coming, like I’d just been pulled out of the dryer.
As I packed, I skimmed over my jewelry box.
I couldn’t see much of a reason to take anything to a fire tower, but I still picked out my favorite pair of earrings.
If anything, it would be nice to have them just in case.
As my eyes scanned the rings, my heart stopped as I landed on the small diamond ring that Ray gave me.
It wasn’t a family heirloom, and he didn’t ask for it back.
I couldn’t imagine it cost him very much, either.
As I stared at the simple gesture, part of me considered throwing it into the ocean.
Just one problem living in Wyoming—I was in a landlocked state with no ocean around.
But perhaps I could’ve found a nice, deep, dark lake to toss it into.
As I put the ring in the small, zippered compartment of my suitcase reserved for jewelry, I wondered if I was just not ready to let go of it yet, and that was why I was bringing it with me.
I shook that thought away, not ready to deal with that, either.
After I was done packing, I made a few phone calls.
The first, to let my landlord know I’d be on an extended work trip.
The second, to ask my neighbor to hold any mail that the mail forwarding failed to forward to my parents’ house.
Not that I wanted them collecting my mail, but I didn’t see how I could exactly get mail delivery in a tower.
The last call I didn't actually make. I just pretended to make it. I opened up Ray’s contact on my phone, riddled by the picture I took of him smiling on one of our pre-engagement dates.
He was so charming. So full of love. Instead of wondering if any of it was real, I deleted the photo of him.
Then, staring at the little graphic that looked like a Lego person, I told my phone everything I wished I could have said to Ray.
Which turned out, was more than I thought.
“Ray, you hurt me. You embarrassed me. But...” I paused, always trying to look for an upside to every situation.
When I came up short, I finally realized what would have been worse.
“I’m thankful you did it before the wedding.
Before we walked down the aisle. Before Grandma had to take the trip on the Greyhound bus.
If it was during our vows… I can’t imagine that level of betrayal I’d feel.
” As I spoke, I felt part of myself letting go of it.
But, just as I did, the feelings came rushing back.
Not just feelings of hurt, but feelings for Ray. I couldn’t just turn it off overnight.
There were things that helped ease the pain, though.
The upcoming change of scenery. Though it felt frightening to imagine actually being alone in the wilderness, it excited me.
The thought of something new and the journey it would take me on gave me the much-needed distraction that I craved.
I knew I was going to face all of these feelings immensely when I was actually there.
Actually living in solitude. But right now, the winds were shifting, and I felt something new.
*****
Zipping up my duffel back, I walked back over to my suitcase as I considered the logistics of taking a roller bag up a steep set of stairs to the tower I’d be living in.
As I contemplated whether or not there would be a bell hop to assist me with my luggage, my phone buzzed in my back pocket.
As I looked at the name flashing across the screen, I was filled with a mix of joy and dread, which summed up my life at the moment.
“Hey, Jane.” I greeted my longest friend, whom I’d known all of my life.
While we didn’t speak often, we always picked up right where we left off.
We were neighbors growing up, and while my parents still lived in the same house, hers moved away to a warmer climate.
To a neighborhood with sidewalks and functional streetlamps.
To a world of affluent families with golf clubs in the back seats of their convertibles.
Jane was always shy about the fact that her parents became successful, considering I didn’t come from money, but I always told her it didn’t matter to me.
It truly didn’t. All I’d ever wanted in life was love.
And I knew from a young age, I had no bonds to my parents.
They just weren’t capable of giving me the kind of affection that I craved.
So, I turned to Jesus, and in Him, I’d found everything I needed.
And right now, I was leaning on Jesus a lot more than usual.
“A little birdy told me something,” Jane dropped, without even saying hello.
“If you think that the birds are talking to you, you might need to get an MRI, Jane.”
“Oh, come on. You know Rebekah is my cousin.” Rebekah…
from church. Who volunteered every week with her charming husband who was completely head over heels for her.
Yep, I knew her. I did momentarily forget that literally everyone in my life was connected through marriage, blood, or kindergarten friendships, however, and I had zero chance of doing anything with an ounce of anonymity.
“Okay, so, it must be true then.” I could hear Rebekah rolling her eyes as she groaned.
“It’s not a bad thing! Look, I’m sorry. I started this off wrong. How are you?” A little late for that question, as I rolled my suitcase, with the large duffel bag on top of it, over to my front door.
“I’m swell. Just about to take a cruise around the world, where perhaps I’ll meet an Indiana Jones type of guy that can open locks with shoelaces.”
“You mean MacGyver," Jane said in a whisper. I couldn’t even be sarcastic without getting corrected today. Great.
“Look, I want to chat, but I’m a little tied up at the moment, and—” she cut me off.
“I heard you are leaving for a job in a fire tower, and I just wanted to tell you that I think this sounds really adventurous.” Her words were rapid fire. I felt my defense mechanism disarming as finally, someone approved of my life choices.
“Thank you. I’m looking forward to it.”
“You should be. I’m happy for you, Autumn, and I hope that you’ll call me if you get the chance.
” The fact that I’d be out of cell phone service was refreshing, but I hadn’t actually thought it through yet that I wouldn’t be able to text or receive messages.
Check my emails. Be in constant communication with everyone who cast disappointment on me for Ray finding another woman. Yeah, I’d be fine.
“Thanks, Jane. I will call you. And I appreciate you saying that. This has been really, really hard.” Jane, despite being my best friend, hadn’t given me as much time as I had hoped to chat about Ray.
But now that she was calling, I was finding I didn’t want to talk about it.
It was still too painful. It was still too embarrassing.
Maybe one day, I’d be able to talk about it with ease and humor.
Someone would ask me about my almost-marriage to the pastor's son, and I’d cackle back a roar, as if I dodged a bullet.
As if he missed out on doing life with me, not the other way around.
After hanging up the phone with Jane, I tidied up the rest of my apartment.
I was leaving first thing tomorrow morning, so I wanted to make sure everything in my house was clean.
Fridge cleaned out. Leftover laundry folded.
Windows were locked tight. As I finished up my tasks, my eyes wandered over to my one little houseplant, and I was racked with guilt.
It was a spider plant, and not doing incredibly well to begin with, but it was still my responsibility.
I couldn’t just leave it; that felt morally wrong in some way.
I considered knocking on doors or asking my landlord to take care of it, but that seemed too variable.
Too intrusive. So, I decided to do what any irrational, jilted bride would do, and I set the plant in its small, irregular pottery container, on top of my luggage. I’d just take it with me.