Beep, beep, beep.
I woke up with a jolt- the sound of my alarm scaring me, more than it really should out of sleep. Once my heart settled back down and I'd turned off my clock I wrapped my comforter around me more tightly as I tried to wake up while avoiding the morning chills. Why is sleeping so great? Every goddamn morning it's torture rolling out of bed. It gives me the emotional equivalence of what I imagine a divorce would feel like if you were still in love:
"I love you so much baby, but I can't stay."
"Oh why ever not darling? You know you want to stay."
"Yes…I do, but- but there's other things that must be done."
"Oh lover, just stay a moment longer."
"If I do, I'll want to live in this moment forever."
"Would that really be so terrible?"
"Urgh." Is the very unattractive noise I make as I quite literally roll out of bed. I'm sure my downstairs neighbor can hear the loud thud my body makes as it comes into contact with the floor. Really though, the pain is for the best. I was almost going to let my subconscious talk me into staying in bed all day. Something had to be done and the floor was conveniently right there.
My toes turned numb against the hard wood floors of my new apartment as I trekked over toward the window to greet the day.
Cloudy.
What a surprise. When is it not cloudy and threatening to rain here? For a vacation destination I can see the subtle appeal of London but now that I've moved to work and live here I'm slightly regretting the choice. Weather like this could cause depression and I'm already a slightly less than adjusted person. But there's nothing to be done. Paperwork has been filed, money and living arrangements were taken care of weeks ago and now I have to make my bed and lie in it. Unfortunately figuratively and not literally- today's day numeral uno of work. Oh god- work. I think, mentally groaning.
I probably wouldn't have such a sour attitude as I stretched in front of my window overlooking other apartment complexes if I had any actual idea of what exactly my job would be entailing.
When I was younger I use to have absolutely no desire to do any sort of work. After graduating high school I went to a local community college and studied accounting. Because accounting is safe. Accounting will always be relevant and in demand. Because back then I had no passion or love for anything, at all. Every day was the same. And in a way, that was good. It kept me from thinking how absolutely unhappy I was. But bad thoughts can only be kept away for small periods of time. They eventually always find a way back into the foremost thoughts. And when mine did- I took things a little too drastically into my own hands.
It lead to a really, really awfully terrible day happening; which lead to an unfortunate trip and forced detainment in the hospital.
It was there I met a man who was even worse off than me. You could probably flip through a book of phobias and pick any random obscure fear and he'd have it. This guy, let me tell ya, was honestly even scared of his own shadow. He'd have panic attacks and wasn't able to function without crying or hyperventilating. And since I was already having a really bad fucking week, I took it upon myself to help him snap the flip out of it.
We sort of grew to depend on each other during our stay.
I was discharged after two weeks. About two months going about my normal life again I got a call from him. He couldn't leave his house. Agoraphobia had reared its ugly head for him. It turned out we only lived a couple city blocks away from one another. After that first day with him I started my new career as a personal, full-time assistant for the emotionally compromised. Very discreet and always present. I had realized that even though I lacked any personal direction in life I could help other people.
My phobia filled friend/client eventually moved on and got married and got most of his fears under control. After him I started working for a man who suffered from compulsive lying and then after him- two sisters who found themselves completely unable to let go of each other's hand when they left the house.
I liked working for all those people, but eventually they had all gotten better at managing their lives. It had been a couple months after the sisters and I was running dangerously low on my savings when I received an email from an interested employer.
From the beginning the whole thing seemed slightly on the fishy side. Our whole communication was only ever through email and tex. I found it strange, but then again the whole nature of my self-created job was just that: strange. Besides letting go of my doubts from the start made, the whole thing good smoother. Because the next thing he did was have me go through a sort of vetting process- and after he deemed me useable I set off for the Land of Her Majesty. I'd never really wanted to live outside of the US, the farthest I'd ever traveled was Seattle and that was only because there was a mandatory conference I had to attend for the company was I accounting for.
But a job is a job and I was in need of the money. For the phobia guy and sisters I had lived with them- in the beginning it's always strange, programing yourself to someone else's' lifestyle. But doable- besides it enabled me to be as hands on as possible while eliminating me having to rent out a place of my own. The compulsive liar, who was also a slight sex addict, had me rent an apartment in the same building as him. Close, but with space- that was by far my favorite arrangement.
When I first received an email about this London job I was weary- how would I find a place to live? How does one even move to another country for a job? I had all these questions… but my employer-to-be seemed to have an answer for everyone.
After I'd passed the vetting processes I was informed that my employer had already picked out an apartment for me- he sent me pictures to see if I found the place appealing. And while I completely fell in love with it, I was hesitant. There was no way I'd be able to afford something like it with the usual price I charged.
Everything seemed to be moving so fast and yet slow considering all the fine details that I was going to have to make.
I walked toward my bathroom to shower as I remembered the particular email that sealed the deal, so to speak.
Dear Mrs. Ayla,
While I understand your concerns for your living arrangements, please understand that I shall be the one taking care of monthly payments. You will be required to be on call 24 hours six days a week as my personal assistant.
-M
And then before I knew it I was on a plane headed for London. And that's all that had happened to me up till this point in my life.
After I had showered and dressed for the day; appropriately for moving about and looking slightly professional, I checked my phone for any messages. My only instruction, which I had received yesterday were:
Meet my associate at noon, tomorrow. Café Morning on Parksway St. You will be given instructions.
-M
It was weird. But I suppose there were always weirder things in the world. So I ate a slice of toast then started my walk toward the café. It was only a couple blocks away.
JMJMJM
I don't own Sherlock.