Since the shooting at my apartment I decided I need a change. So I am moving to another state. Away from everything that seems to be following me around in California. I am moving to Florida. I have family there and I would love to see what it’s like. I have often wanted to see those beaches. My peace comes from salty air and sand in my toes while hearing the waves crash my worries away. I have already shipped my things ahead of time, and I am almost there. I don’t mind flying. In fact, I love it. It is so quiet when you fly early in the morning. It’s also a lot cheaper this way, too.
The plane pulls up the runway to Orlando International Airport. I have a place to stay and a job lined up. I have a couple weeks to find an apartment of my own, but for now, I am staying in the Mother In Law suite at a friend of the family’s house. I have a ride booked for a shuttle to take me home. Now I just need to find where to get my luggage, and go. I am so excited I can barely stand it, but I’m nervous too.
I find the luggage claim and I have tied a massive red ribbon on the handles of my suitcases so I can identify them easily when they come around. I don’t know who they think we are, but as fast as this luggage belt goes around, it’s near impossible to grab your suitcase without some public scene of embarrassment unless you see it coming early. Especially the way I pack. My suitcases are not light. My pieces arrive, I grab them swiftly, without a fumble, and start moving to the doors.
As soon as the doors opened, I felt an immense amount of humidity. My silk blouse just became a sponge and I look like I have ran a marathon through the airport because of the amount of sweat beading up on my face. It is 90 degrees and wet. Miserable weather, but I assume I will adjust. All I care about is finding my shuttle, getting home and starting my new life. I see a luggage checker and ask where to find my ride. He points to a counter to check in. I check in at that counter and load into the van. Thank God for air conditioning.
We come to a quaint neighborhood after dropping all the other passengers off. I was told no one would be home in the main house, but my key would be in a planter right outside my door. There is a driveway that goes all the way back to my place. I get my luggage, tip the driver, and arrive at my front door. I see the planter, I find the key, and unlock the door. It is designed like a small cottage. Very modest, and adorable. Pastels give it cheer, and a lot of windows allow the light in to reflect on the leaves of the many house plants. I love having the plants. They were a nice touch. I go find my bedroom and see all of my clothes, and personal things have been put away for me. Julia, the owner of the main house, and friend of my grandma, took it upon herself to unpack all my boxes for me. She left one box of my personal papers and things, but for the most part, everything is unpacked. This was more than what I expected. What a sweet thing for her to do. I thought it a little strange though, just taking it upon herself to go through my stuff. I mean, I would never unpack anyone else’s things. I guess it is just a touch of “southern hospitality”.
My cell phone rings. It is my old landlord. She called to inform me that I had some mail there. I gave her my forwarding address to send it to, and told her it should all be forwarding automatically by tomorrow. She said it was no problem, we said our lingering goodbyes and hung up.
All I want to do now is go to the beach, but I don’t have a car. I look on my phone to see how far I am from the beach, and to find a bus schedule online. I will now plan out the next day of the rest of my life. Daytona Beach, here I come!
I have now planned out my entire day tomorrow using only the bus system. I have a few transfers and it will take awhile to get to Daytona, but at least I can see some things along the way and start to get familiar. I plan on spending a lot of time at the beach. I am going to look for work while I am out there also. I have a job lined up, but it doesn’t start for another month. I need a job immediately so I can take care of my expenses and find a place to live. I don’t want to overstay my welcome at “the cottage”.
Now that I am ready to start my life, I go to unpack my suitcases. Just as I start, I hear someone pull up in the driveway. I go to the window and a young man steps out of his dark blue Camaro. He is tall, tan, handsome and is missing his shirt. Nice body, nice eyes, and he’s walking up to my door. Great. I push back my hair to try to neaten it up quickly, and check my make up in the mirror. I hear a knock and go to answer the door. I ask who it is and he replies “Brian, Julia’s son.” I answer the door. He said he was there to check on me and make sure everything worked and that I didn’t need a ride somewhere. I was taken back by his beachy bleach-blonde appearance, and told him everything was fine. He said Julia would be gone for the rest of the week, so he gave me his phone number. He talks like your typical surfer, and since he can’t be a day over twenty five, it fits. Brian only lives about a mile away, so he would be able to be here quickly should I need him. I told him thank you, and he left.
He was dreamy, but not my type, however if he is the mold for most men out here, that would be fine with me. I like eye candy, but I haven’t had a boyfriend in so long. I don’t know where to start with finding one. I guess it just hasn’t been my priority. Right now I am tired. My head is pounding, my legs are weak, my arms are even weaker, and my eyelids are heavier than pianos. I need a nap. My body just shuts down when it wants to without warning. The bed is so inviting in my bedroom. I shut the blinds, lay down, and close my eyes. Tomorrow is going to be great.
Oh no!! I didn’t ask Brian about the password for the router for wi-fi. Looks like I will need to call him sooner than later…