Chapter one
My lower back was aching, the muscles straining to lift the heavy box off the ground. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to at least finish the kitchen. I lifted the box up to my stomach and slowly carried it towards the kitchen.
"Umm ma'am?" One of the movers heard my grunt as I rose off the ground. "You need any help with that?" He asked in a gruff voice.
I ignored his question and continued on to my new kitchen. Upon arriving, I set the box down on the counters, and reached around for the small pocket knife I carried in my back jeans pocket. I really wasn't trying to be rude, but I just couldn't stomach another conversation with these movers. They have been here since 8 this morning, and with four o'clock just minutes away, I felt like I was the only one doing the work. Didn't help that they just left around eleven thirty, claiming it was their lunch hour. That "hour" didn't end until around two this afternoon. I was left with all of my things scattered in boxes around my front yard. I just thank the Lord that the bedroom furniture was already taken upstairs.
I cut open the box and began pulling out assorted dishware. The assortment of colors really gave my new home some color. I moved to the little town of Haverstraw, New York about a week ago. I was offered a position as a historian at the University of New York, something that I have dreamed of doing since entering school. The University paid for my belongings to be shipped from my hometown in Texas all the way up here. As it took a week for all of my belongings to show up, I had that little amount of time to find a little house for rent, to set up for my new home for the next few years. Thankfully, my real estate agent was quick on her feet, and found me a little house right down the street from the historical section of town. Haverstraw was composed of little villages, and this one was the most populated, perfect for a newcomer like myself. It was a short walk to shops, restaurants, and a grocery st bore. As it didn't require me to be at NYU everyday, it was a pretty sweet gig. I even got ahold of a little car, a 1992 Lumina. It wasn't much. But it got me from point A to point B.
My new little home was built like a small cabin. It was painted all white, from the door to the frame to the window shutters. The inside was the same way. The only color was the dark wood panels of my floor. It was quite a contrast to see when I first stepped into the house. But as my real estate agent showed me around, I fell more and more in love with it. It had an open floor plan for the living room, dining room, and kitchen. The kitchen was small, but it was enough for just me. The cabinets had a glass paneling, showing off my bright and colorful dishes. I was lucky enough to have a dishwasher, gas burning stove, oven, and a fridge, all neatly compacted into one little space.
Upstairs, I had a one bedroom and one bath. There was a walk in closet, surprisingly, in the bedroom, and a little window seat, staring out to the street in front of my house. A clawfoot bathtub dominated my bathroom, completed with a little connected showerhead. Out of everything in my house, this was my favorite feature.
A mover sat down another box marked with "kitchen" on the side of it, and I thanked him. I cut open the tape across the top and found all of my coffee cups. I had a strong addiction to coffee. One of my favorite memories is opening a Keurig coffee maker a couple of Christmases ago. My little sister knew me so well. I dedicated one whole cabinet all to my coffee cups, right above the Keurig. I step back and admired my handiwork. I honestly felt like I was making good progress, especially it was just me.
"Ma'am?" the same gruff voice interrupted my admiring. I sighed internally, plastered a smile on my face, and turned around. The mover was holding my travel bags, that had my clothes in it from the hotel. Sitting next to him were a couple of smaller bags, that help my makeup and bathroom necessities. "Yes?" I answered politely.
"Would you like these to be brought upstairs?" He asked, struggling to hold on to the size of the big bag. I know I was only in the hotel for a week, but I like to have a little too much then not enough. My other clothes were packed away in boxes, which were probably still downstairs.
"Oh yes please, thank you. You can set the big bag and the boxes marked "Clothes" on my bed, and the little bags in my bathroom. Thank you so much," I said. He nodded, and with an obvious struggled look on his face, turned around and made his way to the stairs.
After a long while, six o'clock rolled around and the movers and I got most of my stuff in the appropriate rooms at least. I was able to sort my living room to my liking, got my kitchen organized, and got my clothes hung up in the closet. Once they left, I sat on my bedroom floor and built a shoe rack to slide into my closet. Growing up with three kids in the house, my family quickly learned the importance of a shoe rack. I always had an obsession with shoes, especially Converse sneakers. I got rid of several pairs before my big move, but even still, the Converse took a whole rack for themselves. As I lined my other shoes in a neat order, my stomach growled. I glanced down in surprise, but then thought to myself, "It has been hours since I ate last. Did I even have lunch?" I shook my head, and pushed myself off the ground. My real estate agent was kind enough to give me some takeout menus, which sounded perfect after a long day of unpacking. I shifted through the glossy sheets of paper before settling on pizza. I dialed the number to the pizza place and ordered a large supreme pizza, with a liter of Coke to drink. The girl on the other end told me it would be a thirty minute wait, so I said okay, thank you, and hung up.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, and glanced around the room. It was different the my old bedroom at my mom's house. My old room was stuffed with junk, ranging from boxes of old toys from my childhood to all of my homecoming mums from high school. I had a bookshelf next to the wall that had old VHS tapes of disney movies and worn books I loved to read. Here, everything was white, white, and a little more white. It signaled change, and change was a really scary thing.
To pass the time, I picked my phone up again and dialed my mom's cell number. I couple rings in, and I could hear my family's excitement come through the line. After answering the rush of probing questions from my siblings, their excitement eventually wore off and left me with my mother. She asked the usual questions, like how my day went, if I was done unpacking. My answers were probably a little typical sounding: "My day was… great. Slow, but got a lot of work done… Yeah, slow. The movers weren't cooperating well with me… I still need to arrange some stuff, but other than that, yeah, most stuff is unpacked…" As usual, the conversation steered towards her: "Wow, yeah that sounds awesome mom… Yeah, that sounds like a rough night at work… Yeah, I miss the kids too, the house is to quiet… Yeah, you guys will have to come visit me when school lets out for winter break. Maybe I'll have a white Christmas!... Okay mom, I'll call you guys later. Pizza should be here soon. I love you too mom… Love you Aaron, love you Alanna. Bye guys."
I hung up, and somehow, felt a little lonelier than before. I sat in quietness for a while, when the doorbell rang throughout the house. I sat up, walked down the stairs, and put on another one of those smiles, and opened the door. A tall gangly teenage boy stood infront of me, with the bag's loops on his arm. "Hi there," he said. I smiled back, and he dragged the pizza out of the bag. He handed me the warm box and a little plastic bag that had the Coke in it. "That'll be $15.50" he said.
I nodded. "Thanks, let me go set this on the table and grab the money." I step away from the doorway and walked over to my table. I set the pizza down and pulled out a $20.00 bill out from my purse. Walking back over to the front door, I handed the boy the bill and said, "Here ya go, keep the change."
"Ah, thanks lady. You are the first one to tip me tonight. Guess people forget, hahaha." he laughed. I shrugged and said, "Hey, people forget things. Anyways, thanks again. Have a good night." I moved to closed the door, but the boy put his hand on the door, preventing it from shutting. "Hey random question, but are you new here?" He asked.
I scrunched my eyebrows at him and said, "Look kid, act any creepier, and you won't get any tips next time. And if it means that much to you, yes I am. Please leave now." I pushed harder against the door, and I guess I took him off guard. I was able to slam the door shut and locked the deadbolt. "What a creepy kid!" I thought. I stared through the keyhole for a couple of moments, making sure the kid got back in the car and left. When he did, I step back and took a couple of deep breathes. When I wasn't freaked out anymore, I head over to the table and opened the box. The warm aroma washed over the little dining room, and suddenly, I was ravenous. I took a plate and a mug out of the cabinet, and dug in. I pulled out my laptop from my bags and propped it open. I had set up the internet earlier in the day, and I typed my password into the box. I pulled Netflix up and picked one of my favorite shows, Family Guy. The idiotic humor soon set me in a more comfortable mood, and when I was able to stuff as much pizza into me as possible, I set the box and what was left of the Coke into my very empty fridge.
I took my laptop upstairs with me and set it on the nightstand table next to my bed. I walked over to my dresser and pulled out some sweats and sleep shirt and changed into the comfier clothes. I pulled back my down comforter and snuggled into bed. My first day here in Haverstraw had been a somewhat success. Now, if only I could ease my mind into a slumber, it would end on a high note..