Page 7 of Pictures in Blue
“Ethan, you could have just taken two trips, you know.”
“This…was…faster,” he says in between breaths.
She holds out her hand to me, laughing at Ethan, “I’m Cordelia, by the way, but you can call me Cordie. Or Granny, like everyone else. That heap on the floor is Ethan,” she points to Ethan who is now completely sprawled out on the floor like he’s about to make an imaginary snow angel. He’s still working on catching his breath.
Ethan raises a hand above him and gives me a slight wave before letting his hand collapse with a thump beside him.
“Nice to meet you, Ethan. I’m Avery.”
“I know. I checked you in like two minutes ago.” He suddenly sits up and looks me dead in the eyes. Suspicious. “Do you have short term memory loss?” He asks like it’s the most important question he’s ever asked in his life. “Like Dory?”
“Uh, no. I just wanted to properly introduce myself to the young man who has been so helpful.”
“Dang, that’s too bad,” he hangs his head and I see a hint of sadness in his eyes. I glance over at Cordie hoping she might give me some kind of direction as to where I should take this conversation, but she just looks at me and shrugs her frail shoulders. Clearly, I am on my own. It’s been so long since I have had any interaction with kids, so I am not sure exactly where Ethan is going with this, but I decide to try to play along.
“Oh? And why is that?” I ask, wondering why he wishes anyone would have short term memory loss.
“Because, then you could have a lot of adventures over and over!” He exclaims like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. To be as innocent as a little kid. A dream.
“Tell you what,” I say, considering. “Next time I see you, I’ll pretend I haven’t met you and we can meet all over again. Deal?”
He jumps up, acting like it is the best thing he’s heard all day. “Okay! Thanks, Dory!” Collecting my bags, he starts to go up the stairs to where I assume the rooms are located.
“Thanks for indulging him,” says Cordie.
“Yeah, thanks for the help,” I say sarcastically. I give her a shrug after a beat of silence. “He seems like a good kid though.”
“He’s a great kid,” she pauses as if she’s contemplating whether she should say more. She decides against it and hands me my room key. “Here you go. You’re in room number three. Just follow the loud noises of an eight year old trying to be the hero and take all your luggage in one trip.”
I climb the deep brown wooden stairs, creaks from my footsteps filling the air. I suddenly feel the exhaustion in my legs from being cramped in the car all day and all I can think about is burrowing in whatever blankets are in the room. Ethan is leaning up against the door of room three waiting for me, his elbows perched on his knees and his butt firmly planted on one of the suitcases.
“Thanks, Nemo,” I wink and unlock the door. “I can take it from here.”
“Okay! Later Dory!” He waves and races back down the stairs leaving me to explore the room that is going to be my home for a few weeks. Three weeks to be exact.
I grin at the room number. A gold-plated three screwed into the wooden door. Charlotte is going to lose her shit when I tell her.
“Your lucky number,” she had said before I left. “Three weeks to find your lumberjack.” I rolled my eyes, knowing she wasn’t going to stop with the lumberjack jokes. She is nothing if not a very determined person. Or a very determined matchmaker.
I let her have her fun though. I may not know exactly what I need, but I don’t think Charlotte’s imaginary lumberjack is one of them.
As soon as I get settled in the room, I crash. The thirteen-hour drive has finally caught up with me and being in a car for that long at 29 years old isn’t as easy as it was in my early twenties. I remember going on weekend road trips with my college friends for hours and hours, and still somehow managing to have the energy to stay out drinking, dancing, and doing everything we could fit into one night. Now, I am lucky to get my shoes off without making a face because of my back.
After a full night of sleep and one hour of staring at the high wooden ceiling with exposed beams, I decide it’s time to explore. It’s what I came here for, but I can’t bring myself to move. The down comforter and the pillows have me in their embrace and I don’t want to break from it just yet. I continue my staredown with the ceiling, determined to win a game that doesn’t exist.
The ceiling reminds me of an unfinished ship with the beams crossing at integral parts. The beams are the start of something bigger. Each one with a purpose. A job. One that if it wasn’t done, if one beam broke, the whole thing would collapse. I’m afraid that’s what my life is becoming. There’s one beam that holds it all together, becoming unsteady and I’m unsure of how much longer I can keep it stable and in place before it cracks, bringing the whole ship crashing down in a pile of broken pieces. The ship being me.
I swipe the thoughts away like a windshield wiper swiping away the rain during a downpour and jump from the bed. I throw on my joggers and a tank top, a crew neck tied around my waist in case I get cold later. One thing I have learned over the years is no matter how warm it is outside, I’m always cold. Always bring a sweatshirt.
It’s amazing how much the weather can change over an 830-mile drive. I think I hit every type of weather possible on the way here. I glance outside before leaving and see dense fog and no blue sky, so I just might need the sweatshirt earlier than planned. I’m so used to the heat in Malibu, being able to cozy up in sweats for an early morning walk will be a nice change. I grab my camera and sling it over my shoulder before closing the door behind me, locking it with the key.
I skip down the stairs and find Cordie and Ethan at the front desk, heads together and what looks to be a small orange scarf between their hands. Their whispering stops as soon as they notice me coming and Ethan quickly hides the scarf behind his back.
“And just what are you two up to?” I offer a mischievous grin. Ethan looks at Cordie who gives him a shrug, leaving it to him to decide whether to include me in their shenanigans.
He looks around the corner to his left and then around the desk to his right. When he is satisfied the coast is clear, he motions me closer. “I’m only telling you this because you won’t remember. Okay, Dory?”
“Got it, Nemo.” I tell him while doing my best to hold back my laughter. I love this kid. I don’t care if I just met him yesterday. The magic in his small child eyes is infectious.
