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The emptiness of the apartment sends an eerie chill down my spine. This is it; I escaped. I did it. I've been alone for the past few years, but now I truly am alone. No memories, no walls of my childhood home to make me feel less alone. This is officially my blank page, a space where I will make writing my new chapters.
I want to be giddy, giggle, and jump for joy, but this new beginning is bittersweet. I can continue living my life; my parents and brother can't.
A voice behind me breaks my daze, "Where do you want the boxes?"
I turn to face one of the movers and clear my throat, pushing down the lump of unease suddenly lodged there.
"Um," I begin, “All the boxes are color-coded and labeled. The primary bedroom is over here,” I gesture, walking past him, still feeling like a stranger in my domain. Truth be told, I never actually set foot in this place before buying it. It was a sight-unseen purchase, but I've studied the video the realtor sent me more thoroughly than I ever studied for the SATs.
I point to various corners and rooms: " The Kitchen is here, the pantry is there. The guest bedroom is this way." I indicate the hallway to the left, where I plan for Harper to crash when she's in town. "And the third bedroom is going to be my office."
"Lovely," He grunts.
Ok, Mr. Sunshine, I'll ignore that rude tone since you have to put up with my neighbors.
Once he's out of earshot, I quickly retrieve my extra-large flash cards and label maker from my bag. In a bit of a rush, I start placing a label next to each room just to ensure that any potential confusion on their part is swiftly quelled. Everything has to be neat and organized, safely in its zone.
I sense Harper's presence entering the space. I turn to her and find her eyes locked onto me. "Are we in first grade or your new apartment?" she teases with a raised eyebrow.
I shrug, feigning innocence, "Just helping the movers out. They might not know the layout."
She strides over and peels the "Pantry" label off the wall. "This isn't a sex dungeon, honey. It's a pantry. One plus one. Simple. They’re probably annoyed because they have to watch Kent and his friends strut around in an honest-to-god furnace outside, well, remaining smoking hot. I want to lick the sweat dripping off of Kent's abs; they are probably pissed that they want to take a lick too."
"So, it's official then," I muse, "we're on a first-name basis with the neighbors."
A mischievous glint lights up Harper's eyes, "Oh, we'll be way more than just on a first-name basis, Poppy."
***
In the following hour, Harper and I find ourselves engaged in the laborious task of relocating boxes to their respective rooms. "How difficult is it to read a simple label?" Harper growls in exasperation.
"That’s it, we're all done, lady.” One of the movers states with an utterly expressionless face.
Done what?
Done messing up the boxes? He means he figured out the correct room locations, right?
"Done?" I echo as my eyes scan his proximity to my door. The scene before me tells a different story: furniture strewn across the living room in a chaotic arrangement of mismatched pieces. Nothing has been assembled. And, to add a layer of absurdity, boxes are still misplaced in all the wrong rooms.
"You mean you're taking a lunch break now.”
The mover's response lacks any remorse, "No." He casually reaches for his tool bag, leaving me wondering why on earth he even needs a tool bag if the intention was never to put anything together.
"You brought the furniture up; you have to assemble it."Meanwhile, Harper and I must continue our game of Tetris, trying to navigate the sea of boxes you can’t place in the correctly labeled room!
His retort comes as a grunt, conveying enthusiasm that rivals a sloth's reaction to rain. "Our job is to pack and unload. That's it."
While I didn't expect them to rearrange my underwear drawer, I certainly didn't anticipate them leaving my bed frame in a DIY puzzle mode.
I am not a DIY kind of girl. I tried to hammer a screw into the wall once. Not realizing you don't hammer screws. Harper never lets me live that down. I missed the screw and made a golfball size hole in the drywall.
Can you imagine how I would reassemble my bed? I'd be better off trying to Duct Tape the frame together than being trusted with a tool kit.
Harper strides past me. Her hands assertively land on her hips, and if my hunch is right, I can practically hear her inner ferocity roaring into life. The movers saunter toward the exit, with Harper giving chase like a lioness protecting her territory.
"You'd better come back here and do what we paid you for!”
Yes, I did pay for them to assemble the furniture. I remember highlighting that in the contract.
