Beyond the City [H.S.]

Chapter 2

"She said to not be stand-off-ish, not allow a stranger into your apartment 20 minutes into moving in!" Lydia scolded me, but I could hear the amusement in her voice.

"She also told me to not get into trouble, but who does she think she's talking to?" I added, stretching my legs then curling up into a ball under my comforter.

"Heaven forbid miss goodie-two-shoes forgets to close a window at night," Lydia joked. I may not be hardcore or rebellious, but I'm not exactly a "goodie-goodie". I liked a party and some alcohol in high school. I liked some good old fashioned truth or dare. Those, to my mother, are troublesome, which I agree with - which is why I did such things growing up. I didn't keep the smoking habit though. I quit that after trying it for a weekend at some party at a lake house.

"Actually, I think my male stripper just showed up so I better get going. Call ya later," I said then hung up. I knew that Lydia would have immediately started into a fit of laughter, which made me smirk. I climbed out of bed and stood in front of the curtainless windows of my bedroom with a bright smile on my face.

I traipsed into my kitchen, to boil water in my kettle, to make a cup of tea to enjoy on my couch. Oh, how I love the way that sounds. I reached up to get a mug once the kettle whistled and stood on my tiptoes to get a mug. I mentally cursed Harry for putting them on too high of a shelf. I huffed before climbing half onto my counter, finally able to reach them. I grabbed another and brought it down with me so I wouldn't have to deal with this tomorrow.

I poured the water into my mug and began to steep my tea bag when I heard my phone ringing behind me. I propped it between my shoulder and my ear as I sat down on my couch, realizing I was time to find a dining room table.

"Y'ello?" I cooed, dragging out the greeting.

"How's your first morning alone?" Mom asked, her voice sounding like how it does every morning; lively and cheerful.

"It's oddly peaceful," I answered and looked around my living room, my feet up on my coffee table and took a sip of my tea.

"How is the apartment?" She asked. I heard some shuffling on the other line and heard some plates clatter. I almost miss the white noise of my mom bustling in the kitchen and Paul adjusting the newspaper. Almost.

"Beautiful," I breathed and lulled my head back onto my couch.

"Paul and I would love to come see it this week for dinner," she said and I agreed. It felt like she was waiting for me to tell her that I would have a roast in the oven alongside some veggies and a freshly baked pie, which would never be the case. I cannot cook anything beyond the basic pasta and chicken.

"Yeah, but don't expect some amazing supper. I'm offering you pasta. Or chicken," I said with a bit of a sarcastic tone.

"Opal..." My mother sighed. "I regret not teaching you how to cook more things."

"I learned what I could from watching Dad as a kid," I said quietly. There was a long silence on the line. I wanted her to talk about him and why he left. I wanted to ask her why he left me when I was so young and impressionable, why he left with nothing to say.

"Well...When does Paul have you in for orientation?" Mom asked to break the silence.

I played with the edge of the pillow that I had perched in my lap and sighed. "Not until Wednesday," I said. "So I have a few lonely, lazy days ahead of me. By the way, how am I supposed to eat dinner without a dining room table?" I asked.

"You buy one," my mom retorted quickly. "Have you made any friends?"

"Actually, yes - one," I said and adjusted the phone as I laid down on the couch and stared at my ceiling. I think my mom just wanted to make sure I had more than just Lydia in my life. I'm not complaining that it was just her and I, she's my best friend. It's my mom and Paul that would always tell me my attitude was going to negatively affect my social life. It didn't, much, but I stopped caring by the time I was halfway through middle school.