I've been here for about a month and nothing happens in this part of the country. I always thought New York was the reason my writing suddenly sucked at this point. I guessed that I got tired of the noises and the business in the city all the time.
So I thought driving five hours to that little town would bring back the good old Emily Dickinson of five years ago. Jessica, my best friend, had a friend whose parents needed to move out so they were selling their house. When Jessica talked about the place, it seemed like she was describing a little heaven on earth. Plus, she begged me to buy it.
She promised that I'd love it and assured the seller it was a done deal. The fact wasn't that I didn't like it, I just didn't see the need for it. I was looking for a place but not in the middle of nowhere.
I talked to my parents about it and like every good decision I've ever taken in my life, they talked me into it and it often turned out great. I thought life was wonderful in New York and this house was useless, I was just going to have to sell it, maybe do so at a better price.
According to the pictures, it just needed some remodeling: some furniture, a carpet, some decorating belongings. About five months after I bought it, my life went from average then turned chaotic.
First, it was my job; they told me if I didn't come up with a book by the end of the year, they would have to let me go. Next, it was Jessica that had to go to London for God knows what her job is making her do for two years.
I stopped listening after she said she was leaving. Then, I lost my inspiration, and to top that I got dumped by my boyfriend for some model. Don't get me wrong; I was never a « strings » person. The guy I lost my virginity to in high school told me: " You wouldn't mind if we stay friends and act like this never happened right? " and I agreed.
We would just mess around and go our separate ways. I never knew what he thought of me or about what we were doing but I didn't care to ask since he never cared about what I thought either.
Somehow guys made it easier for me; It was sex and then we stayed cool. In college and through my whole career, I had nobody hung up on me.
Jessica always said that I lacked standards, and that's why my love life is like that. I'd always say "why am I the one who should want them to stay, why can't they just want to stay?" and she would tease with a sad face reminiscing in her head all she'd learned about women throughout history "I don't know Lee, the world has just always been this unfair to us, women."
Even in Women, there's the word 'men' like we need them. Last I checked they needed us more" and we would both burst out in laughter. She had always been a feminist. I guess that's why she had standards.
I met her in college, she invited me to fight for some woman's salary cause. She had always been so vigorous, focused, determined, and smart. Sometimes I felt like my mom liked her more than she liked me. Therefore, when Marc wanted to go exclusive I played along. "He wanted to stay," I told myself.
If I was superstitious, I would have thought this house brought a curse upon me. But damn you, Marc, I could still be having great sex now. Although thinking about it now, our relationship sucked because all I can remember was the hot sex that I'm starting to miss. Darn! It was nice sex.
"Okay! Stop thinking about sex." I told myself out loud, then I suspiciously looked around as if they were anyone to hear me even though I was screaming the word "sex".
After Marc left, I spent nights drinking wine and mornings making excuses to not wake up for about two weeks. I would just order food and try to angrily write about how love sucked or the idea that we have of it that often misleads us.
I tried to write about the cheating and the dumping for a model thing, but I guess after a while I realized that if I wrote a book on Marc and me, it wouldn't have much to say besides the recurrence of two words. "Hot sex".
I was so deep into my loneliness that I didn't realize that my parents had been worried sick about me because I haven't been answering their calls for two weeks now, or anyone else's calls for that matter. So when they burst into my room, I almost had a heart attack. Who gives a key to their apartment to their parents, right? Well, I didn't have much of a choice since my dad convinced me that dear mom just wanted me to be safe, such as if something happen.
"What is this?" my mom screamed. I jumped out of my bed to find both of them standing over me staring in horror. When I remarked them, I just laid back down and pulled the cover over my head.
"What on earth are you guys doing here?" I asked while still under the covers. "Couldn't you guys call?"
"Yeah we did, twenty times for the past two weeks, did you even look at your phone, Emily?" My mom answered in the most calming way she could.
"We've been worried sick darling, we thought something had happened right to you. You weren't at your job, no one could reach you." My dad said sounding charming as always.
"I'm sorry dad, I'm okay," I replied.
"Okay?" mom shouted, "you call that okay! this place is a mess".
"Emily Marie Dickinson Marshall, I want to see you up and showered in less than an hour," she said pulling the cover off me.
" Oh, my gosh! put those in the washing machine you stink and make sure you clean this place up while you're at it." She continued shouting in disgust. "We'll be waiting in the living room. I'll make you lunch."
They walked out of my room, closing the door behind them. While I was lying there, I heard them having a little argument outside. Probably, my dad telling her to go easy on me, it has always been like that.
My dad is a lawyer and my mom a businesswoman and I'm a writer so you can imagine how that conversation went down. When none of my books got published, and I was ready to give up on my writing career, they were the ones telling me not to. Well, honestly it was more, dad. Mom just agreed with everything he said," yes sweetheart your dad is right" she was saying over and over.
My mom was a stubborn woman, but my dad had his ways with her. He made her listen, and somehow this kept them together for thirty-five years.
The place was, in fact, a mess. Cups were all over, clothes scattered on the pieces of furniture, there was even a bowl of cereal lying around and a box of pizza on my counter.
I got up, showered, and cleaned the place up because I knew they wouldn't leave until I did so. I headed outside, and it was past two but I was too hungry to care. At the smell of whatever my mom cooked, my stomach growled so loud. She made pasta with Alfredo sauce and shrimp in less than thirty minutes.
"Where did you find those shrimps?" I asked a little forgetful. My mom sent me a questioning look, I could hear her in my head as clear as to when I was sixteen and she caught me smoking pot "who are you? What did you do with my daughter?"
"In the back of the fridge," she said.
"They must have been here for a long time. I never remembered buying shrimp."
"Here, sit," she said, gently pushing the delicious plate to me. I sat and finished in less than ten minutes, I was famished.
"Thanks, mom, that was great."
"Look, sweetie," she said as she took the plate to the sink. " I know your life isn't at its best right now but you know we're there for you right?"
"I know, thanks Mom, but I don't need money".
"For Christ's sake, please Emily you can do better than that, I told you this man was a complete douche now stop it!" she shouted out of frustration for my dwelling on my misery.
"He was a great guy mom, we just..." I paused, walked to the fridge, and took out the bottle of juice "didn't work" I continued as I opened it and drank right out of the gallon. As my mom was about to throw one of her manners at me, my dad interrupted her.
"That happens darling, but you're young and there's so much left for you to do and plenty of other people for you to meet"
"I guess Dad."
"I'm sure of it my unicorn," he said smiling tenderly at me as I also let a smile go."Why don't you go live at that house you bought for a while. You never know a little nature can do some good, and a new adventure or even a story might be waiting for you out there."
"Your Dad is right sweetie, and if you don't feel it, you could always come back. Don't worry about the apartment; we'll take care of it." My mom mentioned in the most honest and agreeable voice I have ever heard from her. I was standing there thinking she must feel bad for me.
"yeah... I don't know. I'm not a person big on changes." I said with a facial expression.
"Maybe that's exactly what you need, come on! It could be fun" my dad said with a sly smile. I knew every time my dad said these words, "it could be fun," that they were a ninety percent chance it would be no fun. But what the heck! So I agreed and by the end of the next week, I was in my beautiful, almost antique fashioned little house with a lake not too far from it. It was quiet and peaceful, too quiet for my taste I kept telling myself since I'd arrived.