Boy, I know it. I’m so exhausted I could just fall asleep right here in the middle of this busy bar. The struggle isreal.
It’s been four months since I left home for the trip of a lifetime. Okay, sure, there have been some fun moments if you ignore the whole being responsible and working thing.
In the months which have passed, I’ve worked three different jobs. The first was at a small café in London. I did pretty well for my first job abroad, considering I’d never made coffee in my life. It didn’t take me long to pick up, and by the time I moved to Italy, I enjoyed drinking coffee, having smelled it all day long.
Italy was much harder to navigate, given I didn’t speak Italian and relied on my phone to translate. For the first time since I left the States, I began to feel homesick. Everything felt completely different and communicating with people was so hard. Some days, I just gave up in frustration and retreated to the small room I shared with three other girls. Two of them were from the east coast, and the other from New Zealand.
They were nice enough to hang out with. We spent a week together sightseeing, then found ourselves a good-paying job at a restaurant in Milan. Given we were kitchen hands, it wasn’t exciting or life-changing, just enough money to take us on our next adventure.
I promised to meet up with them in Greece next month, once I’m done with my time in France.
“Alexandra, vite!”
The manager yells at me to hurry. By the end of the shift, I could barely move my legs, and I smelled of grease among other things. Eric was so right when he said you get to a point when you question your need for deodorant because of the desire to eat a decent meal. I thought about it, but the idea of working up a sweat unprotected didn’t sit right with me. So, I wasn’t eating fancy ass healthy meals, big deal.
I slept like a baby, only barely making it to the train station in time. With all my items safely with me, the train ride is supposed to take just under two hours.
As the train pulled out of the station, I found myself staring out the window, deciding not to fall asleep in case I missed my stop. If there’s anything I’m looking forward to, it’s the big comfortable beds at my parents’ château. Also, showering without a time limit and wondering if some perverted person is peeping through the makeshift peephole I found once in the bathroom.
It’s funny how your mind can just drift for hours on end. Before I know it, my stop is next. Mom said she would pick me up at the station since my sisters were busy and Dad was at some winery he owns doing business, of course.
When the train stops, I see Mom waving on the platform. She looks exactly the same, maybe even younger if that’s possible. Her mousy brown hair has grown out a little, and she looks fantastic in the camel-colored maxi dress she’s wearing. Maybe I should have worn something more fun besides my denim shorts and boring old white tank, but most of the clothes inside my backpack are dirty since I was too busy to hit the laundromat this week.
My heart races as I find myself running off the train and into her arms. The moment she embraces me, her familiar smell feels just likehome.
“I missed you, kid.”
I hold onto her tight. “Missed you, Mom.”
She pulls back to examine me better. Her brows draw together into a worried expression. Here we go, a lecture is just about to come out of her mouth.
“Oh, Alexa, have you been eating?”
“Yes, Mom.” I huff with an eye roll. “I’ve just been on my feet more.”
“Okay, okay,” Mom says while motioning me to follow her to the car. “I’ve got four days to enjoy you and make sure you eat.”
The drive through the countryside is relaxing. Mom and I texted almost daily, but it’s nice to hear her complain about my sisters in person.
“Addy is a dream bride,” Mom begins with, then continues. “Is it possible for Eric to be a bridezilla even though he’s not the one getting married?”
“Hmm … I think that’s just called Ericzilla.”
Mom laughs. “I dare you to call him that to his face.”
“I’m sure someone will.” I chuckle.
The familiar stone château appears on my right. Mom takes the turn into the long driveway lined with trees. As a child, I loved visiting and would often pretend I was Rapunzel trapped in the tower waiting for my prince. I can’t help but laugh. Who the hell wants to wait for a man, and what about all the split ends having to maintain such long hair? I swear fairytales are so impractical and pathetic.
After Mom parks the car, a black Mercedes pulls up behind us. When the dust settles, the door opens, and my father steps out wearing a gray suit. It’s a little less formal, given he’s wearing no tie. His tall stature stands out as he glances at me with a small smile. Like Mom, he appears to look younger. What is with these two? Maybe with me gone there’s less stress, and they’re probably having the time of their lives.
Don’t even go where you’re about to go.
His expression doesn’t look welcoming. I don’t even get a big ‘I miss you’ greeting as I did with Mom. Ignoring the unsettling feeling inside my chest, I remember who I’m dealing with.
“Alexa,” he voices in a low tone. “I’m glad you could join us.”
He opens his arms, and even though I reluctantly go in for the hug, his aftershave reminds me of all the times he held me as a child. The times I fell over and cried, to when I just wanted to sit in his lap for his attention because my sisters weren’t around.