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Like her storage ottoman that held all our family albums. I kept the albums of course, but where she kept them was a big part of my childhood. The rocking chair which I had reupholstered because it was her favorite and she insisted she’d never find one just like it. The wooden bookshelf with hidden compartments where mom kept her steamy romance novels she thought I didn’t know about.
I always imagined taking those things with me when I left. And eventually, when I’d move in with a man or get married, we’d argue over my ‘old things’. He’d only tease me about it but never actually let me throw them out because he’d know how important they are to me.
But I can live without the knickknacks, like Mom's figurines and Dad’s stamp collection. I don’t have room for sentimental value wherever I’m going.
Mike helps me carry furniture and boxes onto the sidewalk, where we pile them all next to large trash bins.
"Hey, Charlie," Mike starts. "Why don't I see if I can fit these into your storage unit?"
"But—"
"My father doesn't have to know. And…you can come back for it when you're ready."
I chew on my lip. "That feels wrong."
He looks at my stuff on the street. "This feels wrong."
"If you think it'll be okay. I don't want any trouble." I rub my arms as I look at what’s left of my parents and suck in a breath.
Pepper pops into my mind because she had to do this at only the age of seventeen.
This feels just as unfair.
I’ve been avoiding my best friend all week so I can focus on packing. And so she doesn’t insist on coming over. If she had, she’d instantly know what was going on. She doesn't need the stress. No one should be burdened with caring for their homeless friend while planning their own wedding.
Something I’ll be taking off her shoulders once I get settled. Somewhere…
The idea of sleeping in my car isn’t as appealing anymore, so I’ve come up with a temporary solution.
“Should be okay. I can take all this stuff, but not sure I can fit the nine boxes upstairs,” Mike reminds me.
I groan. “Forgot about those. I’ll come back for them tonight, I promise. I just need to make some room in my car first.” I stare at the contents I pray will be safe until I find a place to live. Mom’s old guitar, dad’s record player, their pottery collection. All out on the street.
“Where you off to now?” he asks.
I tell him the only option left. “The Inn,” I say with a shrug like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
It’s after sunset when I park my loaded car that just barely made it up the hill to get to the Inn. I am in desperate need of a power nap. And a massage, and a cold brew, but a nap first and foremost.
“Hi, Mr. Reeves,” I chirp as high-pitched as I can muster.
“Hey, Charlie.” Aiden jerks in surprise and glances behind me from his station behind the bar. And I know he’s expecting to see Pepper. Because that’s the only reason I’ve started showing my face around here since the night I lost Noah. “It’s good to see you.” He frowns when he takes me in. “You feelin' alright? Can I get you anything?"
“Oh, no thank you.” I stride over leisurely to the check-in desk. “I was just wondering if I can get a room here.”
He pauses, watching me carefully. Then slowly moves behind the desk, opening a ledger. “Uh, sure. For how long?”
“Three weeks?” I ask.
“Three weeks?” he shouts, and I glance around nervously. “Is something wrong with your apartment?”
“Did I say three weeks? I meant…three days.” I wince.
Okay, maybe I didn’t think this through.
“Three…days,” he repeats tentatively, his suspicion growing.
I sigh. “Nothing is wrong with the apartment. I just...well I need..."
