I squirm my toes around in my new boots. They are too big–men's, and the left one chafes my ankle. However, they were hand-me-downs and I gladly accepted the kindness. They get the job done, even if they mix with my brown skirt, flowing white top, and wide-brimmed hat to make me look like a sepia photograph of a southern belle. Only not blonde, or white, or pear-shaped. Whatever.
The floor of the city bus rattles on the crumbly road, which sends a jolt through my leg, which I was bouncing to keep the rest of my body still. I'm not used to such uneven ground; the cities I grew up in all had perfect streets. Instead it was the people you'd find on them that might leave you shaken.
I glance down at the package in my hand. Safe and sound. Just like it had been thirty seconds ago. Ugh. I need to calm down. Breathe. Rub my hands along the plastic lip of the chair's arm. Feel the fine bumps in the plastic and know that things are going to be better. From now on. I promise.
Half a year earlier, I had just stepped off a city bus and into a public bathroom. My scars ached in knowing sympathy as I gently bandaged a shallow cut running the left line of my jaw. I had already stopped the bleeding from my brow and my lip. Pain begets pain. I paused and rested my hands on the sink counter. Seventy-third day on the street, or first, depending on how you looked at it. Wearily I examined myself.
Long, wavy, dark hair reached my lower chest and tangled itself in a final attempt at getting its message across: wash me! please! I took pity on my hair but knew a good shower was not to be had for a while. I moved my eyes past it apologetically. My face–puffy and dark. My skin–soft but swollen. My lips, star feature of my face, marred by a long, thin band-aid. Then, scratchiness and discomfort forced me to look away.
Bodily harm can shake things up. My life hadn't really ever settled down, not for the past few months, but at least most of the time I hadn't been hurting. Not like this. Today, fresh pain and urgency blurred the corners of my vision. Red, the color of panic and danger and warnings and "no more!", teased my retinas and doubled my worried glances. I felt like an animal being hunted, who ran from its hunters with a tranquilizer dart in its neck. An odd lethargy set in. Maybe it was exhaustion. All I remember after cleaning myself up was leaving the bathroom with a large backpack slung over my shoulders. Flexing my hands. My claws. Sheathing and unsheathing. I remember feeling dangerous and ancient and hidden. I felt like a sphinx prowling along the corridor of a crypt. I don't remember passing by anyone, but looking back I know the streets couldn't have been empty at that hour. I don't remember falling asleep curled like a big cat on a city bench. I don't remember dreaming.
The next morning I woke slowly. Everything ached. Someone was nudging my arm. Wait. No. I open my eyes. Someone is nudging my arm. "I think this is your stop," creaks the old man next to me, pointing to the words printed in bold on the ticket in my hand: PELICAN TOWN. I blink a few times to lift myself from the memory.
"Thank you," I say gently to my neighborly passenger as I rise and collect my things from under my seat. He nods at me and returns to his book. I make my way to the front of the bus, thank the driver, and step out to see my new life.
My new life looks... green. It's Spring, sure, but you'd never really notice that in the city. You only notice when it's too hot or too cold there. But here, a crisp breeze blows hair into my face and everything around me is verdant. I breathe the country air in and I'm not sure what to make of it. I feel free, but a little aimless.
The bus drives off as I make my way down a dirt and gravel path, clomping along in my gifted shoes. A sign guides me East at a crossroads and I only have to walk a few minutes before I pass into a clearing paved in cobblestone. And here I am, finally. Pelican Town. Stardew Valley. My new start.
I only wander about a block before a mustached man turns a corner to face me. His eyes light up when he sees me, although we've never met before. He hurries towards me and reaches out his hand, which I tentatively shake.
"Well good afternoon, miss! You must be Dorothy. I've heard so much about you. My name's Lewis, and I'm the mayor of this beautiful town. I'm so glad you're going to be staying with us!"
The mayor knows? I thought only the town doctor was contacted about my new residence. Does word just travel fast here? Is the town really that small?
Before I can get too worried about small-town gossip, Lewis starts walking me back down the path I took to town, and starts to clarify the situation, even though I never asked him about it.
"This is the way to your new home, Dorothy. I'll show you around a bit and help you get settled in if you need, and then you might want to stop by town again and get introduced to your new neighbors! That big building we just passed by was the general store where you'll want to buy supplies, and to your right is the clinic.
"The house you're staying in hasn't seen your grandfather in quite a few years, so it's a bit run-down. If you need any work done on it, just ask Robin up in the North end of town? She'll help you out."
Grandfather? Oh, he must mean Mr. Sampson. I didn't know the house I was receiving was his own. I hold back a surprised tear as Lewis leads me to my new home. Mr. Sampson's house... I'm not sure what to feel. I know I don't deserve it, but I can hear his voice in the back of my head, "some things are just given. You don't need to improve for them. They're not for you once you think you deserve them, they're for you now."
Half a year earlier, I woke up from my slumber on a city bench. The air was cool, but not cold. I ached, and only after I finished stretching and yawning did I realize that I had a visitor. An elderly woman sat a few feet down from me, and she smiled when I met her eye.
"Good morning, pet. It seems you need a place to stay, no?"
I didn't know how to respond. It was too early and my mind was reeling from the past few days' events.
"Lucky for you, pet, I work at the city's best shelter, and we have an open space with your name on it, if you'd like." She stood and beckoned for me to follow her. Looking back, I see how impulsive I was being; blindly following anyone is dangerous. But I was lucky, and for me it worked out.
"Oh, pet, I think we can help you."
She took me on a walk which felt like forever. It was only a few blocks, of course. But we moved slow. Finally, we arrived at a squat, blue building. Two stories, one like a motel and the other like an office. She guided me inside and gestured me into a waiting room. The walls were covered in graffiti but we were the only people there. I sat tentatively as she knocked on an imposing oak door at the end of the room.
She turned the handle gently and opened it a crack. Whispered a word to whomever was inside. Waited. I pressed my hands into the chairs' rough upholstery. I felt the ridges of the fabric.
"He'll be coming in to see you, then," the woman said through the door. I looked up at this.
"Not 'he'," I muttered.
"What was that, pet?" She turned to me and tilted her head for a moment. Maybe she saw the look in my eyes and read me well, or maybe she just registered what I said. "Oh! That's okay, we can help you with that if you need, too."
Grateful but confused, I rose and stepped quietly through the door, which she opened. Inside, I was greeted by a dark room with bluish floral wallpaper. The blinds were closed over a single window and lazy sunlight shone around the edges. A man sat in his bed, propped up slightly by pillows. He didn't look too old, but the setting made him feel ancient.
After a moment of silence, I was uncharacteristically the first one to speak.
"Who are you?" Ouch. Rude. Not a great start.
The man didn't seem to mind, luckily. "A philanthropist," he replied slowly and carefully, "and a caretaker."
"And who are you?" He shifted in bed slightly.
Oh. I should have known it was coming, but I didn't know what to say.
"I'm nobody."
"That can't be true."
I didn't reply.
"Well, then tell me about you," he prompted. "I can hardly see. Do you have a good face?"
"No," I replied truthfully.
"Do you have a good heart?"
"Not always."
He laughed at that. "You're honest! See, I'm learning about you."
There was a pause, but it felt warmer than before. I straightened up a little.
"Do you have a good reason? For coming here?" This took me off guard. What could I possibly say? Was I supposed to convince him to help me?
"I don't know. That woman brought me here."
He smiled a little. "She's a good woman. And so are you, from the sound of it."
How? It didn't matter. I blushed hard and felt a pang of something in my stomach. Excitement? Surprise? Gratitude? A little of each.
"You don't need a reason, you know. And even if you have one, you needn't tell me. You could use help, and I can be that help. Some things are just given. You don't need to improve for them. They're not for you once you think you deserve them, they're for you now."
I pondered this but before the silence drew on, he spoke again. His tone was much stronger, confident. "You may call me Mr. Sampson, or just Sampson, if you wish." He reached out his hand with more energy I thought possible from the feeble man.
I took it and we shook hands gently. "Dorothy," I introduced myself.
"Dorothy, my dear, you must be in dire need of a change."
"Here it is, missy," Lewis announces as he nods at the building. Small, of worn wood and stone. Calling it a shack would be rude, but calling it nice would be lying. It was a house. Nothing more. It would do. However, I couldn't believe Mr. Sampson used to live here.
"This is the cabin. The whole four acres in this clearing are yours. Your grandpa's old house was about an eighth mile over, but it burned down a few years after he returned to the city. Not that long ago at all, actually. Anyways, he owned this land and I'm glad it's being returned to someone he trusted."
I thank Lewis and we walk to the door. I fumble with the package I've been clinging to for the past six hours, but manage to extract the door key and let us in.
The place is dark, with three windows, one boarded over. The wood creaks underfoot and dust floats through the air. A small door leads to an attic but otherwise, it's essentially a single room.
"It'll take some work, but I think you'll fit in here," Mayor Lewis tells me chipperly. An optimist, it seems. I could learn a thing or two from him.
After a few minutes of settling in, Lewis wishes me luck and takes his leave. I am alone again. I run my hands along the bedding. It's cheap but new, and isn't dusty. Someone must have given me a gift for my first night. Which is close now, I realize. It's already 4. Time flies in this town.
I put away all of my stuff and examine the house. A TV, bed, fireplace. A few tools leaning against the wall near the door. I set my singular luggage at the foot of the bed and step away. I can do this.
I step outside and examine the messy land. Four acres, huh? That's four acres more than I know what to do with. Four acres more than I've ever had before. I can do this.
As the sun droops over the cool Spring day, I walk to town. I can do this. I'll make this work out. Things will be better from now on. I promise.