Cherry Valley

Chapter 1: With Love, Honey Bitch

Like I just said before, complete and utter shit. We're all just piles of shit until the economy stabilizes again, which could take years if this is anything like the 1930s stock market crash that took years to recuperate after finally tanking during a steady 4-year decline.

We came into this world shitting, and we are still living in our shit now.

Oh, the fucking irony.

A month ago, I was in New York City, living in an Inwood studio apartment that cost me most of my monthly wages, but I was okay with it because I was finally starting to live my lifelong dream of being a journalist. After working my ass off at NYU for four years and then writing for smaller newspapers around the city for two years after I graduated, I had finally gotten accepted as a full-time freelance reporter for the New York Times. I had worked there for seven months until they let me go two weeks ago.

Budget cuts. The economy. You were the most recently hired.

Me and seven other workers for the NYT were let go with only a wish of good luck and a hesitant promise that if more openings become available again, they would call us back.

I'm not holding onto any hope.

Shit happens.

I can feel the warm sweat dripping down the back of my neck, so I take the velvet scrunchie from around my wrist and gather my heat-frizzy curls up in a messy bun. The heat today has been pretty brutal. My curls turned to a frizz ball in the first few minutes I stepped outside. My tank top is sticking to my skin, and the backs of my knees are nearly dripping sweat down my legs.

My mom glances over at Neo sniffing around the floor trim. Neo is my nine-month-old black German Shepherd whose nose always gets her into trouble. She's a curious dog, but she's also loyal and protective of me. I adopted her in New York. She was lonely in the kennel and never had anybody express interest in adopting her. She was a misfit just like me. I fell in love with her the minute I laid eyes on her. Now we are a package deal.

Mom starts to take the tape off one of the boxes sitting on my kitchen counter, her eyes looking around the room. Her eyebrows furrow and the corners of her lips turn down. "Why did you have to get an apartment this small?"

I drop my hands down from my head and give her a pointed look. "Because this was all that I could afford, mom."

She shrugs. "I could have helped you get something nicer, like the Sunnydale condos. Those are nice and aren't too much more expensive."

"You still have Atlas to take care of," I tell her, taking a long sip of my plastic water bottle sitting on the counter in between the multi-layers of boxes. "You don't need to worry about me. I'll be fine. Besides, you can't beat the price of this place, even though it is pretty small."

"You know you're my baby, Cal. I'll always worry about you no matter how old you are," she smiles, cutting open another box with scissors. "It just comes with the job of being a mom."

"I know," I reply.

I reach over to grab her free hand and I squeeze it twice. "I love you."

She squeezes my hand back two times. "I love you too. Even though you're just as stubborn, hard-headed, and independent as your father."