When I arrived, he grinned and pulled me in for a big hug. We started immediately chatting about what we’d been up to, though unlike him, I hadn’t been up to anything new since the last time I’d seen him. I was still just making music and trying to make a living from it.
He’d graduated from Beasley University since the last time I’d seen him. Although he wasn’t as snobby about it as Julia often was, he also had a fancy new corporate job at a nearby law firm. It was very prestigious and paid well, which was why he didn’t mind cutting me some slack financially while I got back on my feet.
Also unlike Julia, he hadn’t moved apartments after he’d gotten his new job. He still lived in the same small place he had when he used to split the rent with college roommates. So he was still living pretty cheaply while getting paid quite a bit. My half of rent would probably be a drop in the bucket for him, a negligible amount of money he wouldn’t even notice if it got deposited into his bank account every month.
I had to admit, on some level, I was jealous of that, though I’d never have admitted it to Julia. I wasn’t materialistic, but I did occasionally fantasize about what it would be like to not have to worry about money. Not enough to get a regular job, of course. It was just one of those small desires you thought about now and again.
Ryan only had time to talk to me for about fifteen minutes before he had to head to work. But he showed to my room, which was fully furnished, thankfully, since I didn’t have any furniture to call my own. Julia had bought every piece of furniture she owned; it was all hers.
“It’s all stuff my girlfriend picked out, sorry if it's not your style,” Ryan had told me, as if I possibly cared about the style of the free furniture I was getting to use.
“Why do you get to keep it, then?” I asked. “If it was her furniture.”
“I said she picked it out,” he reiterated, “but I was the one who paid for it. Common problem in our relationship… I let her keep some stuff when she moved out, though. But she was going back to live with her parents, so she didn’t need all this furniture.”
After he left, I tried to get comfortable, though I was anything but. I didn’t think the furniture was too bad, actually. Everything was some version of teal or mint green… including the wooden desk that housed a computer in the corner of the room. But the teal comforter was extremely soft, and the bed was memory foam, which I’d grown accustomed to at Julia’s.
But that was kind of the problem. That was why I couldn’t get comfortable. No matter what, I kept thinking of Julia. Even here in Rosebridge, everything reminded me of her. Something as small as memory foam could send me into a spiral of thoughts of her. I hated it.
When were these feelings going to pass? I'd experienced break-ups before, but they’d never hurt quite like this. I'd never been with anyone as long as Julia, so that made sense. When would thoughts of her stop haunting me, though? When was I going to be able to feel comfortable in a place without having her by my side?
At the moment, it felt a long ways off.
After Ryan left, I knew I had to get out of the house. He likely wouldn’t be home until past six. I’d been planning on sleeping when I got here, even though it was the middle of the day, because it’d been a long trip. Twelve hours on a train was no joke.
But I’d managed to sleep for most of that trip, so unfortunately, I was feeling pretty well-rested. Which only meant I was wide-awake and able to think about Julia way too much.
There were things I could do, though. I could go explore the city. Hell, maybe I could even take my guitar and try to make some money.
But, no, probably not today. I was a little bit worn out emotionally, so playing for people in public didn’t feel like something I could handle at the moment. Maybe today, I’d just scout for possible locations where my music might be appreciated.
I grabbed my wallet and the house keys that Ryan had given me and left.
Rosebridge was like no city I’d ever lived in before. It was picturesque, exactly what you’d imagine when picturing a small artsy college town. It wasn’t the first artsy college city I’d been to, but it was the nicest looking and the cleanest. Ot
her colleges I’d been to were downright dirty, with frat houses that had beer bottles out on their lawns and litter in the streets.
Not Rosebridge, though, Rosebridge was pristine. I’d been expecting I was going to have to spend some money to distract myself, but I actually didn’t have to. Just walking around was pleasant enough for me. I’d glance into restaurants and window shop as I walked by, but I really didn’t feel the need to go into any of them. I was enjoying the soft breeze and smell of freshly-cut grass. Seriously, why did it smell so much like plant life? I didn’t care; it was my favorite smell.
The one unfortunate thing was that, on the streets outside Beasley and the town’s Riverwalk , it was pretty bare. There didn’t seem to be a lot of foot traffic, which was the opposite of what you’d want when you were performing for money.
So I decided to venture into the college to see if there were more crowded places. Sure enough, as I walked closer to the college, things seemed to pick up. As long as I didn’t get kicked out for soliciting, there were definitely a few good corners where I could hang out as people walked by.
The campus was bigger than it’d seemed from the outside and was about as picturesque as the rest of Rosebridge that I’d walked through. And, as weird as it sounded, the people looked picturesque, too. So many well-dressed college students were giggling with each other as they walked out of their classes. Why did this place feel so open and friendly?
I decided to stop when I came across the Beasley campus pub, King’s Tooth. They had a sign indicating they had a lunchtime happy hour. I figured, why not? I could have used a drink… or twenty.
It wasn’t what I’d been expecting. Usually campus bars are really kitschy, but this one was decorated very simply. It definitely wasn’t over the top in any way, which I appreciated. In my experience, the simpler the bar, the better the drinks.
I sat at the bar and smiled at the bartender, a young blonde guy with blue eyes who was looking a little bored before he noticed me sit. When he did, he perked up immediately and put on his customer service smile.
“What can I get you?” he asked.
“Whatever lager you’ve got on tap.”
He nodded. “You’ve got it.”
He poured it and handed it over to me. The glass was cold as ice, which I always appreciated.