1
Cammie
* * *
Pretty much my entire life, I’ve shared a bedroom with at least one sibling. With three brothers and my parents cramped in a two-bedroom apartment, there isn’t a lot of space for privacy. Or modesty, come to think of it. Most times when I needed to change, I’d grab my stuff and head either to the bathroom or to the nearest closet, even if there were brooms and mops inside. That’s how packed we were.
But a girl can dream. After all, there was a blissful time many years ago when I got to have my own bedroom. I think one of my brothers was in the hospital, another was at summer camp, and I have no idea where the third one was. Regardless, it was a few months of peace, quiet, and privacy whenever the bedroom door was shut. Sheer heaven, if you ask me. Not that I remember it that clearly, seeing that I was really young myself at the time.
But now, I finally get to experience it all over again. I’ve moved out into my own place, and this time, I’m old enough to remember everything. There’s stuff strewn around my entire one-bedroom apartment, but I don’t care. This is mine, all mine! Mom, Dad, Mikey, Les, and Winston just left after helping me move in, and they won’t be coming back tonight to sleep. It’s a disaster with luggage and boxes scattered about, but I don’t care. The apartment is silent, and that’s a blessing.
I smile. I don’t own a ton. It’s mostly my clothes that are rumpled and old, spilling out of garbage bags. There’s a small mattress for me in the bedroom, a tiny dresser I found on the side of the road, and a hand-me-down table that my best friend’s husband gave me to christen the new apartment.
I’ll need to buy a few things: a couch, for one, so that I can actually sit down in the living room. Plus, a TV. I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t watch my favorite shows, and thankfully, cable is free here.
It’s one of the perks of this apartment building. I may have to pay for internet and utilities, but at least I get to indulge in my guilty pleasure, reality TV, whenever I want. I love all the shows, including Below Deck, The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, and my fave, Vanderpump Rules. Thank goodness for Bravo.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes on the stove.
“Hey, Caitlin!” I sing. “Oooh, guess where I am now?”
My friend giggles.
“Hey, girlfriend! I think I can guess, judging from your excited tone. I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you move in.”
I roll my eyes. Caitlin has her hands full with her little girl, Peony. I didn’t expect her to drop everything to help me, especially since my siblings and parents could easily pitch in.
“You’ve done so much for me already,” I say.
“Well, I’m going to come by. I made you curtains, isn’t that awesome? That way, the neighbors won’t see you strutting around naked.”
I laugh. Typical Caitlin. She’s a fashion designer, but she’s recently branched out into home décor and my friend’s loving every second of it. I love it, too, because she recently hired me to design some graphics for her company, Get Pressed, and those graphics are a wonderful representation of my work.
“You’re the best. I’m sure I’ll love the curtains.”
My friend giggles.
“You will. They’re blackout drapes but they’re the best color of teal I have ever seen.”
“Ooh, my favorite! I didn’t even know that blackout drapes could be in any other color than black!”
Caitlin clucks.
“You’ll see, girlfriend. It’s magic. I’ll bring them over for you tomorrow.”
“Are you sure? I know you’re busy.”
“Of course, I’m sure! I miss you, Cam. Being a mom is a non-stop whirlwind, and you know I’m working on top of that too. Don’t ever have kids,” she says in a confidential voice. “Because they will drive you absolutely nuts.”
I merely laugh because I know Caitlin loves her life. She’s now married to billionaire tycoon Travis Simpson of Simpson Auto Parts, and they dote on their daughter. Not only that, but Caity’s expecting again, and I know my buddy’s looking forward to growing their family.
“I miss you too,” I sing. “By the way, did you catch Below Deck last night? Wasn’t that crazy what happened with the wine bottle?”