I’m a little nervous about today’s post, and I’ll tell you why. I’ve been working on something over the last year that is close to my heart. The reasons why it means so much to me will remain undisclosed until I feel vulnerable enough to share. For today, this is as open as I’d like to be.
I have a story to tell you. It’s a love story much like the one I began writing (way back when) except completely fiction. I thought I would give it a whirl here on my blog to see what you guys think. Don’t be shy after you read these first few pages…leave me a comment. K?
Sunsets are beyond beautiful in Malibu, California. The pink streaks filling the sky, the blue fading to black, the salty breeze that accompanies. I watched from the steps of my new dorm complex as the orange ball in the sky sank further and further into the oceanic horizon. I inclined the pencil in my hand to recreate an exact portrayal of the scene set before me; sea gulls gliding aimlessly, grass and reeds bowing in response to the forceful sea air, and the white tips of the waves appearing then disappearing with calming rhythms.
This can’t really be where I live.
It was much more amazing than the brochures and online pictures had given credit. All of my senses were on overload taking this place in. I rested my pencil on the sketch pad in my lap, my chin lifted to let the breeze flow over my shoulders and into my hair. It mesmerized my mind. For as long as I could remember the beach felt like a far off fantastical place that, if I was lucky enough, I would find myself living in for eternity. My idea of heaven.
In South Dakota I had my fair share of beautiful settings. The winters were gorgeous and the mountains were majestic. It just wasn’t the beach. Somewhere in my mind was the idea that my life would not really begin until I found myself lying in the sand with the ocean lulling me to sleep, skin soaking in ultra-violet warmth.
Now, here I am…making a way for myself. Independent of my parent’s financial restraint that has always bound me. Loosed from every bit of bitterness that once held me captive. The steps to my new communal living quarters are my company now. They were the only company I really wanted in the first place, but unfortunately Pepperdine University didn’t have solitary confinement housing. Ultimately, I’m thankful for the evening of solitude, however long it might last.
The sun was gone by the time a car engine roaring into the parking lot below my venue notified me that alone time was over. One of my suite mates had arrived. I rolled my eyes and closed my sketch pad. I was not anticipating sharing a bathroom, a living room, nor my life. This was the only part of living in on-campus housing that I was afraid could ruin the whole college experience. Compatibility with people in general was not my strong suit–never had been.
As an only child my existence was isolated, no competition for parental attention–not that I wanted it–and least of all, having to give up privacy to anyone other than those nosy parents. I literally had all I could handle of those things, while choosing to keep a life less relational in high school. Mingling with the outside world was inevitable though. If I wanted to be anything other than a scientist stationed in Antarctica. Which had actually made the top five list of my favorite professions. Better judgement eventually took hold and I developed a healthier perspective on relationships. I resolved to go with eventually becoming a lawyer. Sealing my fate to forever be…interactive. For now I would be working toward an undergraduate degree in Art and making friends with my suite-mates; of the latter I questioned the likelihood.
A deep sigh left my lungs.
In front of me, strolling up the walk in a slightly Tomboyish swagger, was a girl that looked like she couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old.
“Hey there roomie, you must be Ava,” she said in a gruff crackly voice. A complete contradiction of her pixie figure.
“Hi,” I waved awkwardly, “and your name is…?”
“Sloan,” she answered with a striking smile.
“Nice to meet you Sloan. How did you know…”
Sloan interrupted dropping her bag a few steps below where I sat, “Elimination. I already know the other girls. Except that Heather is dropping out–she’s pregnant and getting married to some doctor. They’re moving off to Kansas, or something lame. Can’t say that I blame her though…he’s a pretty hot old guy, and has a lot of money.”
“W-Wow,” was the only response I could come up with.
Her flawless features did catch me off-guard, but it was the fact that she mentioned marriage, pregnancy, and moving off all in the same sentence, about someone I didn’t even know. I had all but quit listening.
“…we’ll have an extra room for storage, or parties, or if your boyfriend needs to crash…if you won’t share a bed with your boyfriend.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I nervously interjected.
“Oh, that reminds me, Clara should be here any minute…she’s our other roommate…you two will get along…she’s really quiet and conservative-ish.”
Sloan didn’t even stop to breathe between sentences. If that’s what those were. More like a series of erratic thoughts.
“Great,” I choked.
After that introduction, maybe the anxiety I’d had about sharing an apartment with three (now two) other girls for an entire year was warranted. One consolation was that we each had our own room. Not much different than the living situation I had just left. Come to think of it, that part of living with controlling parents was quite tolerable. At the very least, I could lock myself in my bedroom.
Sloan picked up her army green duffel bag and started up the steps to our apartment suite rising behind me.
“Need some help?” I stood, pressed my skirt down to touch below my ankles, and held my hand out.
“Thanks,” she smiled handing me a smaller bag.
She was even shorter than she looked while I was sitting down; three inches shorter than me. Her spiky bleached hair made her seem a little taller, but her frame was petite. A dead giveaway.
Petite person syndrome. I immediately labeled her in my mind.
Sloan talked non-stop while we made the short climb to our front door. About what, I am not sure, but as soon as the door shut behind us there was a loud knock filling the room. She actually stopped blabbering for a split second.
“It’s Clara!”
I jumped at the sudden increase in decibel level. The door swung open and there stood a tall, thin, long curly haired, young woman. The equal opposite of Sloan in stature. Sloan picked her up in one swooping embrace. They were giggling and squirming like puppies.
“I can’t do this,” I breathed to myself while looking away.
It was disturbing to see college women acting that way, but whatever. Maybe that’s how all students act. Once Clara was released, Sloan turned to face me.
“Clara, meet our newest addition…Ava. Ava; Clara.”
That awkward wave escaped my hand again. Clara walked over and wrapped her long arms all the way around my shoulders and squeezed until all the air was expelled from my lungs.
Am I being punished?
Clara let me go and stepped back to look me up and down.
“I love this bohemian look you have going on…the layers, the skirt and messy hair. Very chic.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but from the looks of her perfectly matched shirt and shorts that hugged her body in all the strategic places, she knew a bit more about pairing clothes than me.
“Unintentional, but thanks,” I attempted to smile.
She seemed to not hear my response, turning to loop her arm through Sloan’s. They breezed through the common room, catching up from their summer apart. Listening to their girlish banter I started to soften a tiny bit at the cute gestures and the obvious sisterhood they shared. It was fun to watch. I admit. They reminded me of what it must be like to have a sister. Without thinking through it, and before I could stop the words from exiting my mouth, I extended an offer to my new roommates.
“Hey, you guys wanna get some sushi. If you like sushi…” I trailed off.
My mouth was watering and I was nervous. I was really not good at making friends. It was easier to keep to myself.
“I should have guessed that you would like sushi, gypsy lady,” Sloan badgered. “You’re probably vegan or something, aren’t you?”
“Ha, no. Hate to ruin your perception, but there isn’t a food I don’t love…red meat and animal bi-products included.”
“As long as there is cooked food, I’m there,” Sloan said.
“I know of a great place downtown,” Clara added sweetly. I could tell that Clara would have gone along with anything Sloan thought was okay.
AFTER WE ORDERED I struck up the conversation, trying to break out of my usual non-conversational mold.
“Clara, what’s your story? How’d you get to Malibu?”
That’s all for today, folks. Come back Friday if you want more…
~Angie
Homemaker Chronicles
They started playing on the old school stuff at the end. We were almost the last ones on the floor…
