Still not sure where it's going or if I like where it's going... but I'm trying! Please keep reading and reviewing; I love tohear what you think! Lyssa
The next few weeks passed incredibly quickly for Sara. She guessed she was getting about forty hours of sleep a week—about five or so a day, some days much less. The day she had off every week she slept for about twelve hours, throwing her average out of whack.
She and Lilly talked every day. Sara tried to convince Lilly several times to bring her own furniture, to decorate it the way she saw fit. "I'm no good at any of that," Sara tried to explain, "So, come on, just bring your couches and living room furniture."
"Sara, I can't," Lilly said, her voice thick but forceful. "It's your house. You bought it. I know I'm not living there for long. You're going to hopefully be there for a while, your personality and tastes have to show through. I'll bring stuff for the kitchen, my table and things, but it's your house. If you would like to borrow my furniture, I'll bring some stuff to fill the dining room and the screened-in porch, but when I'm on my deathbed I'm making you promise to buy your own furniture."
It sort of disturbed Sara how her cousin was so open about her impending death, instead of being fearful or worried or mad, which were the emotions Sara would experience. Also, though she loved the house, she wasn't going to stay in it by herself when the girls were at college and Lilly was dead. She liked it a lot, but it was so big. "Fine," she huffed. "I'll buy all the living room furniture and we'll use your things to decorate the kitchen and dining room. Bring a desk for your computer for the den; I like my computer in my room where it is now. If you have any nice, formal-type chairs, bring them for the 'study' We won't decorate the deck now because it's nearly winter. And that's an unimportant room, compared to living room and bedrooms."
So Sara was forced to go to furniture shops—Crate & Barrel, IKEA, Pottery Barn. She bought a couch that she liked and decided her regular entertainment center would fit for now. She talked to Grace twice and Jules twice, and she received several boxes from labeled 'Oasis Fringe' and 'Vintage Bloom,' and there were others labeled things like 'Bohemian bed cover.' Sara never had sheets with a name brand as a high schooler—it almost shocked her. She did now, of course, but they were plain dark purple. They were nothing like what the teens had ordered. She went to the websites and checked them out. Apparently, her cousin had really sprung; Sara had no idea how much bedding for teenagers cost. However, she got sidetracked by the actual and spent her own small fortune on new sheets for herself there. Addie walked her through the house-buying steps quickly. Her condo sold quickly, to a couple ten years younger than her looking for a starter home. She thought it was peculiar that A) she was ten years older than people who were married and B) that they considered her tiny condo a good 'starter home.'
Finally, her last shift before Moving Week came. She clocked out, already feeling like she missed the place. Her condo was packed up, and Greg was coming after shift to help her move things. She decided that renting a moving van was a stupid luxury; the house was less than thirty minutes away from the condo. She had been feeling guilty lately; she and Greg had become very good friends when he was studying to become a CSI, and Sara would take him out to breakfast or meet him for lunch once a week to quiz him. The tradition had continued. Since Sara had started buying a house and preparing for her cousins, they hadn't gone out to eat.
The doorbell rang just as Sara finished tying back her hair and pulling on her favorite pair of yoga pants and a sherbet-colored beater. "Coming," she yelled, shoving her feet into flip-flops. "Nick," she said, slightly startled to see him at her door. "Come in. What's up?" She led the way to her living room, which was dissected and packed away.
"Greg said that you were moving stuff into your new house today. I hope you don't mind if Warrick and I decided to help out. I brought my truck."
"You have a truck?" she said it in a teasing, lilting banter, but she honestly didn't know that. "I thought you said you were too cheap to buy anything if the department was going to give you a car?"
"I snapped out of that." He grinned and puffed out his chest, slipping into his Stereotypical Good Ol' Boy persona, which he brought out for laughs every once in a while, in an endearing sort of way. Nick was more than that, and Sara knew it. "Every good Texan has a truck."
"Cowboy regalia, too?"
"Boots and hat." He said proudly. He held up the case of beer he had been holding. "Can I put this in the fridge?"
"Sure." She frowned slightly. "Is that some sort of housewarming gift or something?"
Nick gave her a mock-pained look, "Sara. You're moving today. Once everything is moved, you eat pizza and beer on your floor. As a celebration."
"Really?" she said sardonically. "I thought that was only when moving into your first apartment in New York City when you're twenty-two."
"Sara, this isn't Friends." Nick said patiently. "Though I do know that you have every complete-season volume."
Sara's mouth opened involuntarily. "How in the hell did you know that? I mean, I'm not ashamed—but how did you know?" She grinned.
Nick smirked, "Greg. That man has a mouth."
Sara rolled her eyes, "Don't I know it" then, realizing what she had said, she clapped a hand over her mouth. "That came out really wrong."
"No, I get your point. I think," Nick smiled as the doorbell rang.
"Coming," Sara hollered, walking down the hall and opening the door. "Hey, Greg"
"Hey," he said, "I brought beer. And I saw Nick's truck in your parking lot."
She pulled his arm to bring him inside. "Yeah, Nick and Warrick decided to help, too. And Nick beat you to bringing the beer." They were in the kitchen by that point, "By the way—no drinking till we get everything moved. That's a rule."
"Fine, fine, fine," Greg grumbled, sticking the beer in Sara's fridge. "Got any food left? You promised food."
"Now I know why it was so easy to drag you over here." She grinned. "I think I have a cantaloupe."
"That's not food," Greg grumbled, pulling Chinese takeout from her fridge and popping it into the microwave. Nick rolled his eyes. Luckily, the doorbell rang, and the three of them together managed to be loud enough that Warrick heard them telling him to come in.
"Hey guys," Warrick said, tucking his keys into his pocket. "Chinese food, Sanders?"
Greg looked at the lukewarm plate. "I forgot Sara's a vegetarian," he said, tilting the plate towards Sara, "You want it?"
She shook her head. "My father always made me save leftovers—I still do that but I never eat them. They're so gross."
Greg gave her a funny look, "So what did you eat in college?"
Sara shrugged and smiled, "Take out? Cafeteria food?"
Greg wrinkled his nose, "Gross," he said, and everyone else laughed.
"Alright," Sara said, "As you systematically eat your way through my Chinese leftovers, we're going to get organized."
"You're in charge," Warrick said, stretching against the counter.
"Perfect," she smiled. "Okay, I've had everything packed up. We'll start with boxes—everyone will take boxes from the living room, then bedroom, et cetera, and we'll caravan to the new house. Once we get all the boxes over we'll put your big, strong muscles to use and undo the television and the couch and the furniture." Sara grinned, then faltered, "Listen, guys, if you want to go home, and sleep, or anything like that, I'll understand. I've got a couple of days before everyone comes out here."
"Sara, we wouldn't be here if we didn't want to be," Greg replied, a hint of solemnity in his voice.
"Well, then, thanks. I really appreciate it." Sara smiled and gave herself a moment to let everything sink in. "Okay, let's start packing,"
Forty minutes later, they pulled their first loads up to the new house. "Wow, Sara," Greg said appreciatively, "This is an amazing house."
"Can we have a tour first?" Nick asked, pointedly not unloading any boxes.
"Fine. Grab a box first, though, so we can dump them into the living room."
Sara led the way, unlocking the front door. "This is the foyer," she said, pronouncing it properly and awkwardly lifting a wrist to show it off. She flicked a light on, "Over here is the living room—through here, the family room."
"The difference?" Greg cracked.
"Um, different furniture?" Sara wondered out loud. "Is one supposed to be more formal or something?"
"Family room's more formal, maybe like a library or den." Nick said knowledgeably. "Living room's where you put your big-screen."
"Why do you know that?"
He shrugged, "Just something I picked up."
"Alright." Sara quickly led them through the rest of the house. "Come on. Let's get this over with."
Six hours later, they sat exhausted on the family room floor, the remnants of a pizza cooling next to them. Everything was moved in, haphazardly stacked and shoved in the proper room. "This was fun," she commented, stretching until she heard her back pop. "Next time I move, I'm calling you guys."
"We better get going," Greg pointed out, "You two have to be at work in twenty minutes, and I have to work tonight too."
"All right, all right," Nick said, "Have fun this week, Sar. Call us when your family moves in."
"Yeah, I'm getting really nervous," Sara said. "It's Tuesday, we'll be here all day. You guys are all welcome to stop by….move more furniture." She smirked.
"We'll be around," Warrick said, and the guys quickly left.
Left alone with the huge house for the first time, though, Sara could only think what the hell am I doing?