Page 5 of Falcon

Chapter 2

Falcon

So this is the famous Savannah, Georgia I've heard my sister and Amelia drone on and on about?

It's pretty, there's no doubt about that. It's hard to deny when I make a left onto the main street off of the highway, and am presented with a tree-lined roadway complete with Spanish moss covered limbs stretching over like a blanket blocking out the sun.

Victorian era homes run parallel along most streets I venture down, on my way to the address Nora told me was hers. They are multicolored and well kept. It's impressive.

People of all varieties weave through and across the intersections, soaking up the Southern sun and history of the city. I pass squares and markets. Bars and restaurants. It's a tourist town but doesn't have that "tourist town" feel. It feels like...calm.

Turning off the street by the river, I take a long causeway toward the neighborhood Google Maps is directing me to.There's a variety of everything here. Mansions, mobile homes, family-sized homes, and apartments. It's a melting pot of everything you could think of, and I'm learning this all from the seat of my motorcycle, driving through town. Who knows what it will be like when I get to really explore?

The road widens as I ride away from the main downtown area and toward the small island that resides just off the coast. According to the navigation, there is a long causeway that leads from Savannah to an island called Tybee. That’s where my sister’s friend, Amelia, lives, I think, but Nora lives halfway between the city and the island, just off the main road.

I can smell the salt in the air as I move farther down the causeway. I inhale deeply, letting it sink into my lungs. I never get to the beach enough anymore. Working rarely allows me the time. I make a mental note to head down to the ocean while I’m here.

I make a left turn into a small neighborhood, dotted with nice-sized homes with tidy lawns and landscaping.It’s not the typical area I could see my sister in. It feels too suburban to me. Nora has always been an apartment in the city kind of gal.

My GPS talks into my ear and tells me my destination will be on the left. I glance that way and see a small house on the left that is positioned very close to another house. I check the address again then pull into the shared driveway, rolling to a stop then killing the engine.

I climb off the bike and pull my helmet from my head, leaving it sitting on the seat. I slide a hand through my hair, letting my nails rake against my scalp. That fucking helmet sucks to wear for this long. It gets hot and itchy, but it comes with the territory.

I raise my hands over my head and stretch out my back a bit, turning in a slow circle, taking in the neighborhood my sister calls home.

I wasn’t expecting so many trees. I guess I have a misconception of what a coastal town looks like. California has skewed my expectations, I guess. The coastal towns I’ve seen in my life are less…homey.

It’s nice here. The air is fresh and clean. It even smells nice outside. I can see why she’d be happy here.

I focus back on the houses in front of me. They look the same, in a way, but also different. Different shutter colors, different door colors, but similar layouts. I don’t even know which one is Nora’s. I pull out my cell and fire off a text, asking which one is hers, but even after ten minutes, there is no reply.

I take a shot in the dark and go for the house on the left.

I walk down the short sidewalk that is lined with small purple flowers, certainly a touch from my sister. I have no doubt about that.

My black riding boots make a loud thud on each white step as I climb onto the porch and knock on the door.

Silence.

I knock again, but still…silence.

I cup my hands over my eyes and try to peek through the curtain-covered glass of the door, but I can’t make anything out at all. I step to the right a bit and try to peer in through the window next, but I’m met with the same obstacle.

Maybe they aren’t home?

Faith

A hot shower after a five-mile run is exactly what I need. It’s my coffee. My energy drink. A run, plus a shower, is better than both of those things combined for me. My favorite part? Standing with my head under the spray and just letting it wash the grime and sweat away. All sound disappears except the whoosh of the water and I can really disconnect, even if it’s just for a few seconds.

My mind runs through the mental check list I’ve made for the grocery store as I climb out of the shower and wrap a purple towel around my body, leaving my blonde hair down and damp.

I grab my phone and connect it to the Bluetooth system in my house, selecting some music. Billie Eilish croons on about being a bad guy, giving me the perfect rhythm to shake my hips and sing along as I brush out my hair.

Sundays are the best day.

My day off.

My shopping day.

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