~Prologue~
~Prologue~
But then again there's you
And although this town does flaunt
All the stuff you need to feel at home
I plan on taking from it nothing
~Catfish and the Bottlemen, Rango~
I am sitting on my bed with Elena and Caroline.
It is such a normal occurrence that I almost feel like I've stepped inside a time machine. I remember being in this exact situation last year, the day before I left for the beach. They began their journey to California twenty-four hours later. The only evidence that disproves my time traveling theory is a photograph sitting atop my dresser. It's a picture of me with my parents, standing in front of our beach house. I'm wearing a yellow bikini that I wouldn't dare put on today, a cropped tank top, with a ridiculously small pair of denim shorts. My hair is French braided into two sections. I know exactly when this was taken: the morning after my alcohol-fueled tryst with Damon.
The picture my dad insisted we pose for to commemorate our "family" vacation—right before he herded my mom and me into the van so we could get home in enough time for him to make a spur-of-the-moment meeting he
I can tell because of the look on my face: my mouth turned down into a frown, my green eyes shining with happiness. It turns out that it's much harder to be annoyed with my oblivious mother and father when I've slept with an egotistical asshole who also is very good at sex.
It seems like a lifetime ago.
"It's going to be the best staycation ever!" Care claps her hands together in excitement.
Elena smiles and pulls our blonde-haired friend into a one-armed hug.
I try to return their enthusiasm, but I am failing miserably. "You guys don't have to give up going to California. You aren't the ones that made a life-altering decision."
"And miss out on a chance to officially meet our niece? I don't think so."
"That goes for both of us," Elena adds before I can interject. "We aren't going to be able to hang out much when we move into our dorm/your new place—we have to make the best of what time we do have together."
I look down at my hands. I hadn't expected the mention of college and moving to fill me with so much trepidation. It's a scary thought—I'll be totally by myself. Sure, Elena, Care, and Stefan will be right down the road, living on campus, but I won't be.
If luck is on my side, I'll be in what I hope will be my apartment, rooming with someone I barely know, trying to balance doing my homework, and driving just over an hour to visit my daughter in the NICU.
Though, it would be nice to have some company, especially when my boyfriend can't come with me. "Are you sure you want to visit her before she's discharged?"
"Um, yeah. You promised we could."
"I'm not breaking it—I swear… it's just an emotional experience."
"It's a good thing I'm well-adjusted," Care says with a sincere grin.
Elena rolls her eyes. "It doesn't matter—we are going because we want to see her, not because we feel we have to."
"I know, I just wanted to give you guys the choice." Also, there's a good chance that I'll lose my shit and spend most of our time with her crying like a baby—pun partially intended.
And I don't want them to worry about me.
"We're going—okay?" Elena says reassuringly. "Especially because the approved list of visitors will be shorter with Damon not being around."
"When is Damon leaving?" Caroline asks.
I force myself to look at them. "Late August."
Damon has chosen to enlist in the Army. It is such an admirable choice, something he's wanted to do for a long time, but it heightens my feelings of abandonment. He will be away for some time to complete basic training. So, it will be Amelia and me for the majority of her first months home. The thought of that scares me—a lot. And I feel terrible about it. It's just that she's so small…so breakable. What if I accidentally hurt her? What if she gets sick? What if I'm a terrible mom? I'll have no one to blame but myself.
And I'll have no one to help me pick up the pieces.
I know Dad is overjoyed that I won't be living here when Amelia is permitted to leave the hospital. He wasn't too excited when he found out I was pregnant (which I can understand), but when shit hit the fan, he didn't act all that concerned.
My baby could have died and all he could offer me was a half-hearted "I love you."
And while Mom has been more open-minded, I know she's relieved, too. No Bonnie means they can pretend they never had a daughter, brush me under the rug so they can act like my pregnancy never contributed to the current state of their relationship.
Which involves more and more quarrels with each passing day. Sometimes, they even happen because I've entered the room thus reminding them that one parent must take the fall, accept the blame for letting me fuck my entire life up.
The only one that messed up more than both Mom and Dad is me and that makes me public enemy number one.
"So… how's the romance going?"
"Great," I answer. And I truly mean it. I wouldn't have gotten through the past several months without Damon. And to be honest, I don't think I'd want to. He has shown he cares about our little family. Every time he holds our daughter, his entire face lights up like a Christmas tree. I never realized how sweet Damon could be—seeing as his most prominent personality trait is arrogance. But now… I'm not so sure I could go back to seeing him in that light.
"Details!" Care leans on one of my green throw pillows, staring me down like a police officer interrogating a nervous suspect.
"They went on a date last night." Elena supplies. "Stef and I ran into them at the Grille." Her tone implies that something scandalous happened, which it didn't. I haven't been given the go-ahead to resume any of my previous restricted activities.
"We got dinner and then watched a movie at his house." Damon has only a few months before he has to start basic training and it has made him a little nostalgic. He wants to enjoy his final days in his childhood home aggravating his father. He turned the volume on the television so high that I could hear everything from the upstairs bathroom.
Giuseppe came out of his bedroom at least five times, demanding that we turn everything down or else he was going to unplug the TV.
"And?"
"And nothing." I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly. "I had a good time… he called me a buzzkill and I told him he was an asshat. Typical Bonnie and Damon date night."
"That's so… cute." Caroline smiles widely.
"I guess."
Elena shoves me playfully. "I know. Like I told you—Damon Salvatore is a changed man. Stefan says he walks on air when he comes home from seeing you."
"That was just because he got to feed Amelia a bottle before we went out yesterday. The nurse was showing me how to use a breast pump." I wave my hand dismissively, hoping to change the subject—even if I have to explain the ins-and-outs of pumping one's boobs in excruciating detail.
"Awwww!" Caroline clasps her hands together.
I roll my eyes and stare at the light green wall behind Care. He had been pretty damn cute, but if I verbalize that to my friends, one of them will never let me live it down. I straighten my legs and fall back on my pillows. Caroline stands up and walks over to my dresser, examining the bottles of nail polish that sit on a small rack beside several candles. Elena lays down beside me.
"What's on your mind, Bon?"
I look around my bedroom. Not much has changed since my father re-painted it when I was eleven. My furniture is white, much like my room at our beach house. My bookshelf is better stocked here, but that's the only major discrepancy. Based on that observation, one might assume I hated adapting to new situations.
And they wouldn't be wrong.
"Nothing," I say.
She eyes me skeptically. "That's not you're 'nothing' voice."
"I don't have a 'nothing' voice."
"Do, too," Caroline chimes in, not even bothering to look away from the bottle in her hand. "It's not very believable."
"Not anymore."
I scoff at the girl closest to me. Elena never used to question what I told her—why is today a different story?
"You're more emotional now," she explains, picking up on my confusion. "It's easier to see through your poker face."
"Yeah, you used to be the queen of emotional unavailability, but now… we can read you like the latest issue of Cosmo."
"Care!"
This time, she turns toward me before she answers, blue eyes wide and shining triumphantly. "I'm just stating the obvious—from what I've heard, having a baby is like riding an emotional roller coaster."
I can't see Caroline researching pregnancy and childbirth. Mostly because if she is curious about anything, she'll come right out and ask me. She doesn't have a good filter and she rarely thinks before she speaks. Elena is much more careful with her words (unless she has a strong opinion on a matter) and doesn't bring Amelia up unless she thinks it won't upset me.
"It is," I agree. "But that doesn't mean everything is different—I'm still me."
"We know." Elena grabs my hand and squeezes it in an attempt to comfort me. "And we love you… but I want to be there for you, and it'll be easier to do that if you talk about how you feel."
Elena is right—I know that, but therein lies the problem. I don't know how I feel, much less how to react to it all. In a year, my life has been turned completely upside down. I've been trying to focus on the tasks I need to complete before summer is over. That way, I won't be affected by the worries that plague me when I'm asleep.
"I'll tell you if I need help, okay? I promise!"
Caroline joins us on my bed, with a shade of polish named The Grapevine—a deep purple color that had been my grandmother's favorite.
"Pinkie promise?" she asks, holding out her empty hand.
"Pinkie promise!" I repeat without much thought—it's automatic, like breathing or blinking. I hook my finger around Care's and then do the same with Elena.
"Good," they say in unison.
Caroline shakes the bottle in front of our faces excitedly. "Now who's ready for a manicure?"
I sit up, raising my hand in the air. "Who isn't? A good manicure makes everything better!"
This brings a smile to Caroline's face. "I knew one of you would see it my way eventually!"
The girl I'm meeting lives in a decent-sized apartment building ten minutes away from the Whitmore campus. The complex is home to many college students who weren't able to get into the dormitories (or didn't want to live there).
That's the case for my potential roommate. She didn't offer a reason as to why over the phone, but I'm sure I'll find out today.
I walk down the long, dimly lit hallway and up a flight of stairs, glancing at each door as I pass by.
I'm looking for apartment 2B, which should be toward the beginning of the second floor. Sure enough, I turn a corner, and there it is, engraved in gold letters and mounted on a matching plaque.
I knock on the door and wait for an answer.
Meeting new people doesn't usually make me nervous—it actually makes me curious. I'm not a social butterfly—that title fits both Caroline and Elena better than me, but I don't mind small-talk or getting to know someone. You can learn a lot about a person through body language and seemingly meaningless comments about the TV show they saw last night.
But when I hear footsteps getting closer and closer to me, I start to feel a bit shy. This isn't an interest meeting or a book club, this is an interview that has the potential to make my life much harder or much easier, depending on how it goes.
And the thought of having to live with my father's disapproval doesn't make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Quite the contrary—it gives me a case of the jitters. If I can't execute the first step of my plan, how can I expect to succeed when I have to take care of Amelia—especially when Damon isn't home?
The girl that opens the door is a few inches taller than me, with fiery red hair. She is wearing a pair of thick-framed blue glasses, hazel eyes outlined thickly with black liner, and several coats of mascara.
"I'm Luna," she says brightly, reaching out to shake my hand. "You must be Bonnie!"
"That I am—nice to finally meet you!"
I'm not sure what to think of this girl yet. She is extremely bubbly, which reminds me very strongly of Caroline. So, that calms me down. I love Care; so, I think I can get along with Luna.
This is off to a good start; I tell myself and I wonder if Grams is helping me out just a little.
"Come in," she keeps her hand on mine and pulls me through the doorway.
The apartment looks exactly like the photos posted online—a medium-sized family room and a kitchenette that is clearly sectioned off by a short half-wall, which signals the end of the carpeting and the start of the linoleum flooring.
We head over to the couch.
A notebook is perched precariously on the corner of the gray coffee table. Luna grabs it and takes a sparkly pen from behind her ear.
I feel very prim and proper, almost stiff compared to the way she's sitting so casually, back against the sofa, legs up and curled to the side, exposing a pair of powder-blue socks.
"So, Bonnie, why are you interested in this apartment?"
I study Luna before I reply. Her pen is hovering over a blank sheet of paper, facial expression a mixture of inquisitive and eagerness. It kind of reminds me of the stereotypical teacher's pet played for laughs on sitcoms.
"Well, my life has been pretty hectic lately and I think moving out of my parent's house would curb some of that. And when I saw the ad and talked with you, I thought you'd be a good roommate."
"Oh, Bonnie—that's sweet of you!" She nods her head, scribbling something down. "I thought so, too!"
I struggle to figure out if she's being genuine. But I'm not sure it matters at the moment—I just need to put a roof over my head. I know I'm being a little short-sighted—according to the lump forming in my throat—but I need to be proactive.
There are only so many backhanded jabs about being a disappointment a girl can take.
From her father, no less.
And I've almost reached my limit.
"Why are you looking for a new roommate, if you don't mind me asking?"
"My previous roommate—Allison—moved to Colorado after she graduated. We were best friends…" she pauses, a look of sadness crosses her features. "And the only reason I could afford my half of the rent is because she paid for part of it for me—in addition to her portion. And, well, Sadie—the other girl who lives here is moving out when the semester starts. She's moving in with her girlfriend Aaliyah and Aaliyah's daughter, Jemma, in August."
I nod my head and feel an involuntary pang of jealousy toward this woman I've never met—all because she can be with her child far more than I can with Amelia. It's not fair or rational, but no one thinks I can act upon logic anymore.
"Well, it's perfect timing, then!" I say with fake cheer.
She jots something else down. "It is! And you're going to be a freshman this year?"
"Yes—I'm majoring in anthropology and my minor in English lit."
"That's so cool!" Luna exclaims. Her burst of enthusiasm makes me jump back a little. "I'm an anthropology student, too!"
"That is cool," I parrot back, wishing my thoughts were on anything but when I have to go home without Amelia when I then catch a glimpse of the car seat in Damon's trunk when he throws his visitor's pass in with it.
He hasn't verbalized it, but I know he does it to remind himself that she'll get to come home with us eventually. I've done the same thing; I just get teary-eyed more often than he does.
"So, you were telling me you had a baby?"
I nod robotically. It sounds so weird when I hear Luna say it—with a hint of surprise. Obviously, I don't look like someone's mother. I don't have to wake up eight times a night with a crying newborn and I'm not lugging around a stroller or carrier.
"Um, yeah," I answer quietly. "She's wasn't able to come home with me, and I'm not sure when she will. But it won't be before classes start—it'll just be me at first. That'll change, though, so if that's an issue, I completely understand. It's a lot."
Luna doesn't say anything at first; she just looks at me, clearly weighing her options. And then, sheepishly, "… not many people have expressed interest in the room. And I need a roommate. If I can't find somebody… I'll have to move back in with my loser brother and his whiny girlfriend."
"I'm sorry," I say—and I mean it. From what little she's divulged; it sounds like her familial relationships are as tense as my own. "I get feeling like you're backed into a corner—it sucks."
"I'm glad somebody understands—Sadie thinks I'm being dramatic."
Okay, so based on first impressions alone, I might be able to see why her current roommate would make that determination. Luna has no issues expressing herself.
"And my brother, Phil, he's always playing video games… and Julianne—that's the girlfriend—complains about everything. Which, I understand because she works two jobs and my brother basically doesn't leave the couch when she leaves in the morning. But she takes it out on me—not him. I mean, I'm not the one who used the last of the toilet paper and didn't write it on the shopping list!"
She pauses, taking a deep breath.
"Oh, man, I'm sorry." I am sincere about that, as well. That reminds me of my father. Or the person he's grown into the last several months.
"Thank you. Are your parents like that? Like, do they complain about you?"
I hesitate. There's no way I'm ready to talk about my personal life so openly, but the fact that Luna is facing a similar problem gives me hope that maybe this arrangement will work.
"Sort of. We don't agree on some aspects of my life, and… well, on top of everything else, I just figured it'd be best if I give them some space."
"It sounds like you've had a rough time, too."
That's an understatement. "I plan to smooth things over."
She writes one more note down and shuts her book. "Do you want to see the room?"
"Yes."
Luna takes me to the back of the house and down a short hallway. There isn't a lot of wall space, but part of it could be because a huge Captain America poster is hanging there.
I think of Damon and how much he would appreciate a Star Trek poster with the same dimensions and smile despite myself. It sucks that he isn't here with me, providing his opinion even though nobody would ask him for one, but he has errands to run before we go to the hospital this afternoon.
God, I'm going to miss his self-inflated ego.
"And this is the bathroom…" Luna is saying.
She holds the door open so I can get a better look at it. It's small, just big enough to fit a sink, toilet, and a walk-in shower. A few towels hang on a rack mounted next to the sink. And on the counter, I see a little dish with a bar of soap that is almost gone, a roll of dental floss, and at least three different bottles of perfume.
I am used to having my own bathroom. Sure, I hated my mother's design but at least she and Dad rarely go in there. Sharing one with Luna and Amelia would be a challenge.
But one I could deal with.
Actually, it sounds like a walk in the park compared to some of my other problems.
The bedroom that I would have is half the size of the living room but still much bigger than the bathroom. It's large enough for my bed, dresser, side table, and crib. It doesn't leave a bunch of walking space, but other than that, I love it.
I don't need anything extravagant. I'm looking for cleanliness, up-to-code, and affordability. This place checks all the boxes so far.
It even has a washer/dryer hookup.
When I turn back to Luna, she's watching me hopefully, hands clasped under her chin. "Do you like it?"
"I do. How much would I need to pay each month?"
"The rent is eight hundred—nine hundred if you include utilities."
I mull this over. Five hundred dollars if I add in the cost of groceries. And there's my car insurance to consider, but I don't have a car payment.
Thanks to Cousin Emily, I think, recalling all the ice cream I had to scoop to buy her car. She and I don't see each other outside of holidays, but I get along with her better than I do with my cousin Sasha, who always makes everything into a competition.
One that she constantly lost until I got knocked up at seventeen.
But that's probably because Emily is ten years older than Sasha and me. So, Sasha never viewed her as a rival. I, on the other hand, am the perfect opponent. She loves school and has opted to attend Cornell in the fall.
I wonder if that has anything to do with Mom and my Uncle Marshall being close in age (Aunt Calla a.k.a. Emily's mom was in high school when they were born).
Calla and Emily are also more like Grams whereas Marshall, Sasha, and Abby are more like my grandfather—ambitious and competitive.
I had been so happy that Emily sold the car to me cheaply, but that feeling doubles when I realize that the money I had left (and haven't touched since then) after my purchase is enough to cover the first three months of rent. "I can do that!"
Luna beams at me. "Awesome!" she grabs my hand with both of hers. "Thank you so much! I'm so glad this is working out!"
"Me, too."
But a part of me wonders if she'll be so overjoyed when Amelia's around. I know I'm wary about it, but I have months to go before I have to actively worry about that.
Right now, all I can think is, thank God for small victories.
