"Leaving the place you call home is like leaving where you once were comfortable. Now you are making yourself adjust to a home of no memories or warm feelings. Just hollowness."-Anonymous
Sandy Hill
Every wall I stare at is bland. There are no more punk rock posters or childish quotes about working smarter and not harder. They're all packed away or in the garbage. The bedsheets are temporary. My favorite ones are already stored. Mostly everything that made this my room is in a box. I'll be making my first ever apartment my home now.
It's small and overlooks a deserted area that leads a few blocks to my job. I would have my life figured out if I didn't jump at the opportunity to show off. I haven't kept up with social media resulting in a decline in followers. They don't care who I am. It's just another post or inside look of the person I let them see. I should have everything figured out.
My life is in shambles of bad decisions. I would be lying if I didn't say that hearing my college friends in a six-figure job and not depending on their families made me jealous. Sarah won't become me.
The girl ran away from being a model because her manager manipulated her. It sounds like a story that I made up if they weren't there. Derrick was there and, it didn't matter. The mistakes I made caused me to be where I am.
The only thing I can do is move forward. Last night was the hottest it has been for summer. My body is operating on one bowl of cereal. So far, I'm doing good. I have a couple of clothes left to pack in a suitcase. My Mother's speech in a message was heartfelt. She said it with honesty and sincerity compared to the last times.
We never talked about the day I called her for help. It's such a sensitive subject for me. I am surprised she didn't insist on me going to the police. Sarah wasted no time in telling me how sorry she felt. I should feel sorry for putting myself in that situation.
There was a choice for me to leave. I stayed for the money. My papa does not know a thing. Every time we cross paths, nothing happens. No type of conversation or anything. We've grown apart or, I'm growing up. I am too old for bedtime stories and kisses goodbye at school. It's time to say goodbye.
My childhood memories are all playing at the same time. The floor had scratches from the time dad fell from sliding on socks. My mom's game of hiding and seek always cheered me up. Suddenly, the bad memories start pouring in. Mom and dad's arguments used to continue for hours before they realized I heard.
The moving truck is coming to take all of the boxes except for my suitcase. I hurry out of my room to stop the livid thoughts. Sarah is now coming out of her room. Her hair is messy and, she has sleep marks on her arms. Someone got a good night's sleep. It's rare I ever see her this well-rested. Each box that's in my room is in the hallway for me to pick up.
"Morning, care to join me for our final goodbyes downstairs?" I ask. She yawns with a hand over her mouth.
Sarah rolled her eye dramatically, "It's not a goodbye. I can always visit."
"Shush, we have to make this sentimental like the last episode of vampire diaries," I dismiss her words. The suitcase I'm tugging slides down each stair. Papa lifts a heavy box to carry to the van.
"Are sure this is what you want? You can stay longer. There is no need to rush." Her furrow of a brow bothers me.
"Yes, I'm way too old to be living here. And, I didn't mean what I said about moving out. I want to branch out with what I have left of me. Start somewhere new and fresh. I'll be eight miles from here. No need to fret," I exclaim. The moving company is outside taking the boxes. They pick up what is on the porch to load into the van.
"No worries. I have thought of an idea to help Mom. I'll be using my savings to keep her in rehab. My cash prize will go to my four-year ride to college," Sarah exclaims. I grip my suitcase at the end of the stairs.
"That's so good to hear! Mom..needs it. We know she does and it wouldn't be so bad if everyone branched out," I look at her.
"Sandy, I have my whole life ahead of me. Branching out is at the top of the list," She laughs. The old iPhone eight comes out of my joggers. I flip the camera to show how sweaty and blotchy my face is. The strands of my hair stand up in weird directions. I'll try to remember to run a brush through it later.
At the thought of it, Dad comes up to me with a plate of waffles. He rests one heavy hand on top of my head. The strands get worse and, I subtly avoid his hand.
"Today is the big day, kid," He huffs. Sarah passes me to help with boxes. Max is in the kitchen eating breakfast. The heat of today is beating on me. The workers are drenching their logo tees.
"Yeah, my room feels like the first day we got here. Dark and empty." I turn my phone off.
Dad rubs his now protruding belly, "There will always be the memories up here. Don't let them drift away like they were never there. Mom should be here but she isn't because she's up here," He taps my head. I respond with,
"Always. Let me know how she is week by week. Don't shut me out." And with that, I take a single waffle up from the plate. The sweet taste of maple and waffle mixes with my tastes buds. I groan in delight. It gives me the energy to tug my suitcase outside and into the car. Papa has given the last box to the moving company. The sun is causing sweat to my forehead.
The clouds look beautiful today. Teenagers are out helping mow the lawn for old neighbors in return for money. This happens every summer. The only thing out of place is how strong the wind is. My joggers blow around with the breeze.
While I was packing earlier, I heard on my phone from my news app that there's a missing kid. I hope they find him.
Everyone's concern about me leaving is making me worried. My Mother and Dad, Max, Sarah approach the van to say their goodbyes. I've got the keys in my pocket. "Time to do what we have been waiting to do all our lives. See you leave the family nest," Papa clasped his hands together to keep calm. My dad shook his head with a sad smile.
"I'll visit, promise. And, that goes for you two as well," I point to Sarah and Max. Everyone nods. I can't help but also feel the pain of feeling affect me too. Not too long ago, I was crying about having to stay in this house and, now, all I feel is a dull ache leaving the fogged memories behind. Brooklyn will always be our first home.
The home we embedded our wildest imaginations while we grew. Family is what made it what it was. Sarah wouldn't have been the sister I annoyed if she wasn't born. My dad wouldn't have stuck with my mom if it wasn't for their history in High school. I can see Sarah and Oliver being High school sweethearts. In their perfect way. Max steps forward with a frown on his face. His arms engulfed me in a hug. Sarah rubs a hand over her shoulder.
"Sis, take care of yourself, okay?" I look at her. Her head shakes as I let go of Max. He walks back to where Sarah stands with his head hung low.
"Don't be sad. You guys can come to visit. The same goes for me. We're family, don't forget that," I reminded them.
"We won't," Sarah and Max said in unison. Mom and dad pulled me in for the last hug. Dad gave me the rest of the waffles in a to-go box with a little note. I'll be sure to read it later. The loud slam of the van door forced me to put a smile on my face.
"Okay, I'll be going now," I say. I turn and open the van door, still seeing them standing there. I still see Sarah as a little girl and Max as a baby. Mom and dad have an arm wrapped around each other. Everything will be okay. One of the men from the moving van company gets in the driver's seat. He shuts the door on his side as I do. My hand comes from my pocket to wave at them. The burn of my eyes causes me to blink.
In the time that I blinked, we were already driving off. The view of them standing there is farther away until I can't see them at all. The people from the company talk all the way there. I wallow in the newfound feeling of being an adult. I eat on the way there. A good thirty-nine minutes it took before we parked at a tall building. It overlooks a view of many high-rise buildings, clubs. There are not many people living nearby in my area. I hope I don't have a noisy neighbor.
They are harder to ignore at night. A strong gust of heat swishes my wavy hair to the side. The ends have weaved themselves to look like ocean waves. I'm not sure if I miss the extra pair of hands fussing with my makeup and looks. Without it, I'm an ordinary person. I allow myself to walk up the building which, serves as a challenge. The stairs leading up are long and tedious. They are fiery hot from when my leg nearly gave out at the top. I'm out of shape. The last time I have been outside this long was in Beverly Glen.
The thought of my ex-manager finding where I am. That pushed me to move somewhere new. The creaky white front door of the building opens. There's a side for the stairs and a small living area to the other side. A 'No pets allowed' sign is behind the other side of the front door. I lead the one man holding a heavy box up the stairs. My key goes to the number '501' engraved.
We pass through quiet hallways of different apartments before I reach mine. I am not someone to lie and say that walking up these stairs was easy. It's one pain in the ass but even more of a pain for the man huffing and puffing behind me.
The heat adds a twinge of sweat to both of us. Finally, my feet touch the beginning of the third floor. My eyes skim the numbers on the doors. I find my apartment and push the key into the hole. The door clicks and reveals a gloomy and empty space. The man comes in with the box and puts it down. Another man behind him rests three boxes to the side of the walls leading in.
A big living room is divided into the kitchen and dining space. My bedroom is to the left with a newly painted white door. I hear the loud commotion of 502 next door. Their door opens. I walk outside my apartment to see who it is. Derrick is standing there in a slightly unbuttoned black shirt and cargo shorts. His hair is unruly. He locks eyes with me.
"Sandy?"
"Derrick?"