Author's Note: This quick story was written while listening to The Beatles, it is recommended that it is read the same way as there is never a bad time to fully appreciate the fab four. The following is based loosely off of real events and a jewelry advert I saw. Enjoy.
There is a girl. She has brown hair, light skin and an infectious laugh, which is the only good infectious thing in the world. A self-proclaimed "simple lady", she wants her coffee to be strong and her men to be tattooed. She smokes a pipe, likes her clothes a few sizes too big and is scared more than she lets on. She is scared of left-hand turns. She can't read a mystery book after 9 pm and is terrified of living the same year more than once. But the girl is the best thing you could be when you are scared of something: brave and kind.
This girl, like most people worth taking note of, has a dog. This dog isn't scared of anything, except for the obese chicken named Buttercup that roams the backyard and door stops when they make a "twang" sound, of course. This dog is a goofball and a force to be reckoned with when treats are concerned. He will eat anything you place in front of him with the exception of carrots. And even though he hears his name be spoken harshly when he tries to get on furniture or get his food that the girl accidentally left on the back of the counter, he loves his girl and always knows how to make her laugh.
One Sunday afternoon it was raining, as it does often in November, so the girl moved her rocking chair indoors and smoked her pipe that way. She holds the pipe in her left hand and throws a ball for the dog with the other. But her mind is occupied with more than the routine tasks of rocking, throwing and puffing. She thinks fiercely about her fears in a way that made her forehead scrunch up. She desperately wants to know if she will feel this way for the next 25 years. She was 27, but she mentally excludes the first two years because she didn't think they really count in this instance. It was at the moment right after that one, that she realized she needs change. 15 minutes later she went to Safeway and found the hair dye section. She picks out a box from the "$9.99 AND UNDER" section and spends the night dying the underside of her hair a royal blue. Afterwards, she paints her toes, like she did each Sunday night, and made sweet potato fries instead of regular fries with dinner.
The dog is oblivious to the changes his girl was instilling in their lives. He only knew that he got to go on walks more and that the girl swore more while cooking weird smelling things. For the dog, life mostly stays just the way he liked it: routine. Little did he know this was the precise reason his girl was upset.
A month later she found herself in the same spot, rocking, throwing, and puffing. The blue in her hair had faded to a dull green. The feeling of adventure once again faded from her chest. In the last few weeks, the girl had grown a paradox inside of her; she was terrified to get into a routine she couldn't break but she was equally scared of change and the unknown. She was at a loss. With each dreary fall day, she felt herself wanting somewhere new a little more. The girl hated the streets she had to drive down and hid from people she knew if she saw them.
The next day was Monday, which meant it was time to go to Value Village and look at the historical biographies. The dog doesn't like this because he had to stay home, but he did like the new things the girl always brings home just for him to smell. As the girl was leaving the store with a book about the Kennedys and one about Vasili Arkhipov, she saw, in the corner, a dart board and a map of America. She was struck by an idea and grab those too. She paid the teller exactly $13 and went home. Quickly, even before the dog got to smell his new things, she hung up the map of America on the back of her bedroom door. She grabs a dart from the dart set, closes her eyes and throws the dart. A sense of excitement wells in her chest as she opens her eyes. She sighs as she realizes the dart landed in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. She sinks to her bed defeated and confused at her bad aim.
"How the hell am I supposed to start a new life in a new state if I can't even hit any state?" The girl whispers to the dog that came bounding into his room when he heard the girl sigh. The dog places his aging muzzle on the girl's thigh and sighs with a sigh that could move mountains. The girl reached over to her sky blue record player and turned on her latest find from the record shop, The Beatles 1969 classic, Abbey Road. As "Here Comes the Sun" began to dance around the room, so did the girl. She sang the "do do do dos" loudly and passionately to the dog that was prancing around the room with his girl.
"Somewhere warm, that's where we need to be" The girl declares clearly. The dog just kept prancing. She plucked the dart out of the Pacific Ocean and tried again. This time the dart lands in a real, livable location, but with great disappointment, it's the state the girl and dog already reside in.
"Fuck me." The girl whispers low enough that the dog's ears don't pin back as they normally would if he heard that word be spoken.
"Last time I'm trying," the girl says, voice faltering. She places one hand over the map and tugs the dart out with the other hand. She takes some steps back, closes her eyes and inhales sharply. When she hears the thunk of the dart hit the door, she opens her eyes. At first, there is a palpable sense of disappointment in the room as the dart only landed a few inches to the right of where the girl and the dog live now.
"Well, looks like that's where we're going, buddy." The girl said to the dog who had his head cocked to the left. The girl reached for the atlas she keeps by her bed, (it was on sale at Value Village and it looked really cool). She flips through the thick book looking for the right page. Eventually, she gives up and turns to the index. She next turns to page 97 and began to aloud, for the dogs' sake.
"'A western state defined by diverse terrain and weather.' Hm. At least it won't be boring."
So, like that, the girl had decided to pack up her current life and move 571 miles to the right, hoping that this would be the thing to soothe her soul. In the two and a half months to come, the girl would feel more fear in her stomach than ever before, which is really saying something.
A large sack of bricks sat on her chest as she sat down her mother and brother and told her where her address would be changing to next month. They quickly attacked the girl with a swarm of questions she didn't know the answers to, all of them starting with the dreadful and fear-inducing phrase "what if?". The simple answer was always "I'm not sure yet, and that's okay". That seemed to be the mantra of this trip and for the first time in the girl's life, it seemed to be true. Every day the girl would diligently pack one box, donate one bag of stuff, and would call one place about apartment listings or jobs.
Once again, the next day to come was a Monday, which, like normal, meant a trip to the biography section. The girl knew she didn't need more shit to pack, but she needed something that felt familiar, as by next Monday she would no longer be within driving distance of this Value Village.
Standing in front of the beloved section, a panic washed over the girl. What would she do if the new town didn't have a motherfucking Value Village? She decided right then and there she just wasn't okay living in a town without a Value Village historical biography section...
As soon as the girl got home, she sat on her bed, laptop open and started searching if there would be any decent thrift shops in the new town. (The girl had never referred to it as "Her new town" as it didn't even remotely feel like it was hers.) She found there were a Value Village, Goodwill and at least three independent hipster places with names like "Again Thrift" or "Vintage Chic". Knowing this did not have the effect that the girl was hoping for. Instead of feeling relieved, this was just one more reason why she couldn't back out.
Before it felt like it should, the day to really move came. The only thing the dog registered was how early he had to wake up and how scared his girl was that morning. The girl has had everything ready for this day for a few days, but she was still dreading this day. She gently placed the last box in the back of her Jeep and put the dog in the front seat. Leaving a state and everything you've known behind was exactly how the girl had always pictured it. With Band of Horses blaring and a single tear rolling down the girl's cheek as she entered the freeway, it was like a scene from a damn indie movie.
By the time the girl and the dog had gotten to their new apartment 571 miles away, they were both too tired to be scared anymore.
Three months later, the dog had settled into a comfortable routine. He got to wake up, play, eat, wait for a long time, eats again, then sleeps. There was no fat chicken to be chased by here, but sometimes there was a squirrel that would run up the tree, and when his girl wasn't home to stop him from protecting his homestead, he would bark at it till it left.
The girl, much to her relief, has not settled into a routine yet. Sometimes the "what ifs would creep into her head if it was after 10 pm, but they were always dispelled as soon as she would whisper "I'm not sure yet, and that's okay." After that she just timed her breathing with the dogs and fell asleep, content.
Sure, there were still fears that lived within the girl's chest, but she takes left-hand turns boldly now and the girl decided that even if this adventure only soothed one thing in her, it was worth it. Mystery books were still reserved for daytime but she wasn't scared of repeating years anymore. As soon as the girl felt the all too familiar paradox well in her, she would take out her map and keep throwing a dart til she got a new state and a new sense of adventure. The dog was happy to ride anywhere with his girl, as long as there were things to chase, of course.