Love is a tricky thing. What's trickier is finding out the person you thought you loved has now vanished. It leaves you torn to bits, and the only idea you have to use as a coping mechanism is to develop a plan for a mass murder at Prom.
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Only a few more miles down the road, we made a right onto a narrow street partially overgrown with trees. We didn't even pass the main part of the town on the way there.
Three-fourths of a mile down, there it was. On the right side of the road, in an acre of cleared land, was the house I would now call home.
It was old. I figured around a 100 years or more. The white paint had been peeling away for some time, and it desperately needed an upgrade. However, she purchased it for half of what it was worth, so she didn't seem to mind.
It was a large house. Much larger than our single story house in the valley. It was two stories itself, with a small attic, and an unfinished basement. It had a balcony staircase leading to the bedrooms, and a spiral staircase leading down to the kitchen.
It was probably quite an immaculate house in its prime. We don't have many Victorian styled houses in California. It almost resembled a house you'd see in a movie, that turned out to really be haunted. I hope that wasn't why it was so cheap.
The porch wrapped around half of the house and had a rickety porch swing on the left side. The inside was actually much more up kept than the outside. Book shelves were built into the walls of the living room bordering the fireplace. Cherry Oak hardwood floors occupied every room of the house.
It was more beautiful than I'd ever admit to my mom. I still had a gut feeling that this move was wrong. Not that my feelings really mattered at this point.
I took my suitcase and went upstairs. There were three bedrooms. The first one was smaller and my mom had claimed it as her office space. The next one at the corner of the staircase was mine.
It was a large room, and brightly lit from the large bay windows. There were cushioned benches built into the windows with shelves beneath them for, you guessed it, more books.
It was weird trying to accustom myself to the fact that this was my room now, but it was cozy.
I sat at the window bench, and looked over into the small garden area. It was overgrown, but the vines donned purple flowers that were quite appealing. It was peaceful here. Maybe that's what she needed.
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