The man returns a few minutes after an hour. Not that I'm counting. My suitcase is still half full. I have no idea what I want to bring or what I need. Will they give me my own toothbrush? Will I need my own shampoo? What about my sheets or my pillow?
I don't know what is needed, so I bring everything and nothing. Two toothbrushes, but no shampoo. I decide not to bring sheets or a pillow as they might be offended. I throw a few more pairs of clothes into my suitcase, though a few still hang in my closet. It's not as if I had a lot of outfits to begin with. I don't leave the house when I don't have to. Sweatpants and baggy sweatshirts are my wardrobe of choice. But, I also need fancy dresses for my father's parties. So I am either completely casual or entirely formal.
I find my one pair of jeans and throw a few of my less casual shirts into the suitcase. I can't have them thinking I am a slob. I just never saw the point in being uncomfortable.
But I don't about my father's finances, so I don't know if I will be able to purchase new clothes. Surely they will judge me if I dress in sweatpants all day, but I don't have anything else to wear. I certainly can't ask them for money.
Maybe I will have to get a job, as much as that makes me want to curl up in a dark corner.
My father's friend rings the doorbell this time, not sneaking up on me. I drag my suitcase down the stairs and open the door.
I say, "Thank you so much for this. You have no idea how much this means to me and I will find a way to repay you. I will pay for my own food and my own rent and..."
He holds out his hands, "Don't you worry about it. We are family, remember?"
I nod, "Thanks again."
He just smiles and says, "We better start getting all your stuff loaded into my car then..." He stops when he sees my single suitcase, clearly not full.
I shrug, "I didn't know what to bring. I figured if there was anything that I forgot or later needed, I could just come back to get it."
"Of course, of course. It will be easier that when than trying to fit it all in the backseat of my car. Let's go, then."
He starts to leave, but I realize that I left my computer upstairs. I start to call after him, but I realize that I don't know his name. I'm sure he's told me multiple times, but I never cared enough to learn it.
"Hey, um..." I swallow.
He turns around, a smile on the edge of his lips, "Do you actually not know my name?"
I shift from foot to foot. "I'm sorry. With everything that was going on when I met you..."
"It's fine. Mr. Gardinia. But you can call me Andrew."
I try to match the face to the name so that maybe I'll manage to not forget it in two minutes. Andrew has graying hair cropped close to his head. I've only ever seen him in suits, but I know from my father that they are cheap suits, nothing of high quality.His face is clean of facial hair, giving him a younger look than most of the men his age.
I nod and say, "I left my laptop upstairs. I just need to run up there to get it."
He nods and I sprint up the stairs. I didn't leave my computer behind. It's in my suitcase. I just need a second to think.
Do I really want to do this? This man is basically a stranger. He says he is a close friend with my father and my mother and I think I can remember him from a few parties. But I can remember a lot of people from the parties and not all of them are the best company.
He could be a criminal, a murderer, a kidnapper. I don't know anything about him.
Would my father want me to go with him? My father never did the 'Don't talk to strangers' thing. Instead he told me to go with my gut, listen to my brain, and don't forget about my heart. I don't feel any doubt, but is it because I simply want this?
Do I really have much of a choice? I don't think I can live here for a year. Sure, Marcia Quintana is taking care of my finances. But what about the groceries? Or cleaning? Or the landscaping? Or parties? It's too much work for one person.
Besides, if it is horrible, he said I can leave anytime.
I take a deep breath and walk back downstairs. I say, "I guess I must have packed my computer already. I'm sorry about that."
He shrugs, "It's no problem. Are you ready to go?"
I nod.
I get in the car and he talks about his wife, an accountant, who he describes as the most lovely and beautiful lady in the world. He says his son won't be home when we arrive at his house because he has a thing with friends, but he should return so that I can meet him.
I wonder how the son will respond to a person living in his house. Will he get mad at me for taking away some extra space in the house or that I'm taking some of his parents attention from him? What if he's actually nice? What if he could be just like a brother? I'm sure having an almost sibling would irritate the Assembly even more since they're have made more than one child illegal.
We arrive at his house. It's not nearly as grand as mine and I'm glad. I don't want anything to remind me of the life I'm leaving behind. The front yard is dotted with cute bushes and sprawling trees. It appears to be two stories tall. Where will my room be?
He leads me up to the front door. He unlocks it with his key and ushers me inside. A smell of baking bread and fresh spices wash over my nose.
The wife must consider this a big thing if she's willing to cook for me. My father and I rarely had home cooked meals. That took preparation and work and way more cleaning. We both prefer the frozen meals. The only time I had something freshly made was for my father's parties, where it was too much to try to ever enjoy it fully as a meal.
Andrew calls out, "Kristy, my dear, we are here."
A woman hurries out of the kitchen, a pink apron secured around her small waist. She grins and stands beside her husband. She holds out a hand and I shake it.
She blabbers, "I'm so happy that you are staying here. It is no trouble at all, so don't you worry about it for a second. Anything that you need, you come find me, okay? I'll always be here for you."
I blink and thank her.
She says, "Well, supper is going to be ready in about twenty minutes. Andrew, you can give her a tour and give her time to start unpacking. Josh said he would be home around eight, so there's no point waiting up for him."
She gives me another bright smile, "I'm just so happy you are here, Diane." Then she mutters something about the sauce burning and hurries back into the kitchen, her long brown hair flying behind her.
Andrew says, "She's a bit stressed right now, but it's nothing to do with you. She'll calm down. Tour?"
I nod and he leads me through different parts of his house. It's all soft colors and artsy decorations. It's nothing like my own home, but it's still beautiful. Andrew carries my suitcase for me upstairs as he shows me my room. He points out the bathroom across the hall before opening the door.
I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. It's a large room with beautiful purple walls. A neat black comforter adorns a large bed. There's a dress in the corner and a closet in the far wall.
I thought maybe I would get the cupboard of a room. That small room that you don't have any use for so you throw a bunch of different things in there. Maybe a tiny cot shoved against a wall.
Not a real bedroom. A beautiful bedroom.
I turn to Andrew, "Thank you. Thank you so much."
Andrew beams at me, "We can help you get a few more decorations in here. We weren't sure what you liked, and we didn't want to add anything that you wouldn't want. We decided to let you decide for yourself."
Tears spring into my eyes. These people don't know me, yet they are willing to open their home up to me.
Andrew says, "I'll leave you to start unpacking. I'll find you once Kristy is done with supper. Sound good?"
I nod and thank him again. He closes the door behind him and I'm alone.
In my room.
In a stranger's house who is willing to care for me.
I kick off my shoes and hesitantly lie on the bed. It's softer than my one at home.
I stop my thoughts.
This is not my home. This is a house. This is where I will live until I turn eighteen. This isn't where I grew up.
This isn't where my father lived.
This is not my home.
It's just a house.