Disclaimer: I got drunk and dreamed that Twilight was mine... It's not... But for now I'll pretend and just use S.M's characters.
I woke up shivering to a beige ceiling, trying to figure out just where in the world I was. Glancing around at my surroundings, I realized my new apartment was going to get some getting used to, and could probably use some homey touches if that was ever going to happen. I stretched and got off my makeshift bed that consisted of a blanket my grandmother made my mom on top of a mattress. From there I went to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of tequila with a splash of orange juice to go with my breakfast of champions: Advil. Knowing my roommate, I poured another glass alongside another set of pills and left them on the counter while I ran my shower in an attempt to snap myself out of my hangover. Say what they will about my remedy, but it has been proven time and time again. The only thing that fixes a hangover better than that is to go to the gym, sit in the steam room, and sweat it all out for a few hours, or just stay drunk.
It was about eleven by the time I got out, and I was feeling better, but by no means normal. My roommate's eyes were open, but he was by no means awake. I decided I'd go grab some coffee then head to the grocery store for ingredients to stock the fridge, along with a bottle of wine to replace the one whose contents had gone missing since last night. We decided for our first night in the new place we should celebrate which apparently with my extensive background in cooking and mixology means food and hooch. Emmett, I wrote on the top cardboard box sitting outside his room, Going to get food and wine for the new place. Be home around 2, if I don't get too lost. If I do.. check a coffee shop. Bella. I figured when he really woke up, and got over the hangover enough he'd realize I wasn't actually in the apartment.
I decided to give my truck a break, seeing as she did most of the work yesterday hauling all the goods on the trip, making her go slower than her normal pace of 55mph, so I walked today. I made my way down the street taking in the sights of buildings, animals, and people. It was so strange and comforting at the same time. It was just a relief to start fresh, to have no background and no one judging you. I wasn't going to forget my past... I was just filing it away so I didn't have to have it on hand.
The fantastic thing about Seattle is that you don't have to walk more than three feet before you find a coffee shop. I, of course, walked a bit further just for fun, but nevertheless I at least wasn't too at a loss for a good cup of comfort when I would need one. I decided I'd just sit back and people watch for a bit, get comfortable and see how much at home I feel. It was something I used to do in Phoenix. At that reminder of my old city, I quickly pulled out a diamond ring of my mothers, and put in on my left hand. It was something I had learned to help alleviate the number of men I get talking to me when I was alone; something my mother had taught me. I never understood what they saw. I had brown eyes, brown hair, and the palest of pale skin (it was told to me that if not for the fact that my heart was beating and I moved, I could be mistaken for being dead). I saw myself as an average, mousy, little bookworm of a girl, and yet… there must be something that draws them to me, perhaps the need to protect something fragile.
A gust of wind broke me from my reverie, reminding me of my other state of business, the groceries. While I may be able to find a coffee shop only by opening my eyes, a grocer is a whole other ball park… on the other side of town might I add. The grocery store was a bit further than I wanted to walk, and I soon found myself in a need for a ride. I glanced at a clock on someone's wrist and noted the time said 12:32 pm, still in decent shape to get things done, however I soon realized that it was Monday. What does Monday at noon mean other than lunch hour rush, driving would be a mess, and in my truck I wouldn't stand a chance. After arguing with myself for a bit, I deduced that cab fare would be cheaper than gas on my truck, and better than risking my getting lost and possibly end up in the wrong hands.
Sticking one hand up I tried to hail a cab… unsuccessfully of course. I kept trying until finally one appeared to be stopping for me, only to find out it was stopping for someone else entirely. At that point (being the 7th cab to pass me by) I was going to walk away, only to find out, that this someone else who had taken the cab that I thought was mine, was actually only hailing it for me after noticing my struggles. Blushing with chagrin I looked up to thank a blond haired gentleman with a smile that could make any woman faint.
"Anytime, Ma'am. You seemed to be a bit frustrated and I only wanted to help a lady out." The southern drawl was so slight that if I had not been such a people analyzer and overly observant person I would have missed it all together.
My grocery trip was successful, only picking up the essentials: salt, pepper, paprika, flour, eggs, milk, huge bags of chicken, beef, and pork, and a few veggies and fruits. From there I could make anything. I only had about 8 bags so unloading would be a snap, but I was reminded about the one main ingredient I forgot: Wine. How was I reminded? A bottle of wine sitting in front of the door with a note attached.
Being an aspiring bartender I looked at the bottle first, 1982 Chateau Lafite worth 300 give or take. This was more than just good stuff. I then took a look at the note attached. Welcome home, it's about time y'all joined us. It didn't say who it was from.