“My parents were hippies. We have Lucy, Luna, and Violet. If I didn’t live through it, I would think we were all raised on a commune somewhere.” I don’t realize how much I miss them, until I actually start talking about them, then it is like a ton of bricks sitting on my chest. I love them, and miss them more than I think I could ever describe in words. I work to change the subject as quickly as possible, when I make that realization.
“So, Hunter. Do you usually pickup women in line for lunch? I mean, I don’t really see you as the Tinder type,” I joke. Staring to slowly feel like my world isn’t crumbling anymore.
“Actually, this is totally a first. I’m a sucker for girls with Coldplay shirts on.” Completely forgetting I was sporting the t-shirt I bought at the Chicago Coldplay concert I went to last summer. The Head Full of Dreams tour is just absolutely amazing.
“So, another Coldplay super fan?” I ask. Hoping he says yes.
“Chris Martin is a musical genius.” And my guard comes down just a bit more.
“Well, Hunter, my friend, you are obviously good people,” I laugh.
“While I would love to sit here and chat all afternoon, I have to get back to my office,” he says, pushing his chair out and standing up. He pushes his business card across the table in my direction. I dig through my wallet and push my business card in his direction.
“Just in case you’d like to keep in touch. Maybe grab a Coldplay concert when they come back through again.” He winks and picks up his trash, making an exit.
“Have a good day, Luna, and welcome to Savannah,” he says before disappearing down the sidewalk in the direction of the City Market. All I can do is sit at this table and think, what the fuck just happened?
Chapter 7
The Life and Death of Luna Rockwell, Realtor
On my way back to the hotel, I took the scenic route down River Street again, this time in the daylight and sober. There are a ton of neat little shops, restaurants, and a killer candy shoppe. I stop in and buy a candy apple, because if y’all haven't figured it out yet… I have a sweet tooth.
I also pass by the Savannah Trolley Tour company, making mental note for tomorrow. But I am sure that Liam knows all the ins and outs of the city already, without me trying to tell him where to go. I pass by a small bookshop that is a hole in the wall. If you didn’t look twice you would go right by it. Once I’m all settled in my new house, I will totally be going back to fill the library I have. I’ve always been one of those girls that has daydreamed about actually owning a library. My own place where I can sit and read for hours, and collect a million books. Well, maybe not quite that many, but a shit ton of books.
I finally come to a stop back at my hotel and hurry up to my room for a nap. Or maybe I’ll just tackle my inbox while I still have the ambition in me. Climbing up in the huge king size bed, I grab my laptop from the nightstand and open it up. Something I haven’t done since I got to Savannah yesterday. I’m usually pretty good for a night cruising on Pinterest or something, but I was a little too intoxicated for all that last night. Sleep was my friend, and I have a feeling it will be again tonight after all the walking I’ve done.
Against my better judgment, I open my work email. You know, that realtor thing I’m not doing anymore. But the biggest mistake I made was not putting an auto reply up, since I told my whole firm to fuck off. I literally have three hundred emails, and that isn’t including the spam filter. I sort through things I don’t have to answer, old clients, and co-workers just asking what happened.
Once upon a time I loved my job, and I really loved my life. As a twenty-two-year-old making a decently living, the money motivated me to follow those state of the art coaching programs and throw my whole existence into work. It works for a lot of people, but I didn’t realize it wasn’t something for me, until it was too late. But I think that is what happens with most people, or jobs in general. Especially if they are demanding. American’s work too much, we don’t take enough time off or take enough time for ourselves.
I think I finally came to terms with the fact that I was miserable my fourth year in. I went to the doctor and got on anti-depressants that really didn’t help me at all. They did however fuck my stomach up for life. So yeah, cool story with that one. I began to wean my body off of those after about a year of taking them with no change, and I know the doctors tell you to give it time or try something else, but I think a lot of it is just a bunch of bullshit.
That is when I started to smoke pot. I watched all these states across our great country legalize it medically for so many of the same daily battles I had. Then states started legalizing it recreationally, citing studies that showed the benefits when compared to alcohol consumption. I was pretty much sold, and believe it or not, most of the professional people you know and associate with… from doctors to lawyers, are puffin’ the magic dragon. It worked really well for me, and still does. I don’t care about the stupid stereotypes surrounding marijuana use.
I don’t think that it makes anyone a bad person, I just think that we all have different ways of dealing with things in life, and just because someone smokes pot instead of drinking a bottle of vodka in a night, doesn’t mean they are a bad person. Plus, some of the best people ever are huge stoners. Willie Nelson, Snoop Dog, Tommy Chong… all National Treasures!
I stop when I come to an e-mail from my sister Lucy.
Luna,
I hope this letter finds you well. I chatted with Violet the other day, and I am extremely worried about you and your recent behavior. Quitting your job and taking off with no warning isn’t a good way to deal with your grief. I want to help you, please tell me how I can. You are welcome to come and stay with Kent and I in Atlanta until you are able to get on your feet elsewhere, if that is something you would like to do. Our door is always open in Atlanta. Please call me, or text me. Talk to me about whatever is going on with you.
Lucy
I’m not exactly sure what the fuck I just read, but one thing is clear. Violet didn’t tell a soul about the Powerball, because if she didn’t tell Lucy… she for sure isn’t telling anyone. She would never willingly let me come stay with her if she knew. Ha! I’m not really sure how to process it all though, how does someone reply to that? Do I bow down to her and send her a polite reply? Do I tell her how I really feel? Do I freak out because she is totally overstepping her boundaries like always? I’ve never known how to handle Lucy.
I think for a couple minutes, spacing out, and finally clicking on reply.
Lucy,
While I understand your concern as my older sister, that is your job in life. I assure you I am just fine. I’ve been in need of some changes in my life for quite some time, I’ve been able to work on finding my own happiness through this spur of the moment change. Please do feel free to come and visit me whenever you would like here in Savannah. Maybe once I am more settled, I will take a weekend and come visit you and the kids in Atlanta.
I’ve spent quite some time unhappy in life, my career, and the combined loss of both mom & dad was a wakeup call for me. I’ve greatly considered all of the risks associated with my move and knew this was the right thing. I thought you’d be happy having me closer! LOL!
I hope that you are able to find a way to cope with everything going on as well. If you ever need to chat, you know where to find me.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to get ready for a date I have tomorrow with a lovely British architect. I think I am doing pretty good so far.
I love you.
Luna
I think I did a pretty good job of deflecting, being nice, and talking her down. I really wanted to tell her to go fuck herself, but that is never a good way to deal with Lucy. At the worst now, I’ll get a two-day mini vacation where I have to stomach a meal or two with her. Life could be a lot worse.
I send a couple more email replies from co-workers asking about my abrupt exit, a couple inquiries from clients, referring them over to another agent I actually liked from my
office, and deleted a shit ton of spam emails. Finally, I give up, unpacking my camera to play around for a little bit only stopping once my eyelids start to get heavy. I’m exhausted, and I give in to a mid-afternoon nap. Something I haven’t done in years.
I’m a ball of nerves. My stomach is full of first date butterflies. I feel like an awkward pre-teen girl all over again, hoping a boy will kiss me for the first time. Everything about Liam makes me blush, and I’m not sure why. I mean, he is sexy as all hell. And that accent… hot damn! I pace back and forth a couple times in the lobby before closing my eyes, pushing down my Ray-Ban sunglasses and walking out the front doors.
The Savannah summer early morning is hot as hell, with a whole lot of humidity. My body is blanketed in a thick hue of moisture. It’s gonna be a long day, and shit my hair is going to be out of control. I laugh to myself before seeing Liam in the distance. He’s tall, like really tall. Towering over my petite stature at a good six feet, at the least. His dark hair is natural, flopping all around as he walks in my direction. He’s wearing a pair of salmon pink shorts and a black t-shirt that has a cat and a rainbow on it. I want to laugh, but I am trying to keep a straight face.
“Excuse me, Miss. I am looking for this lovely young lady. Long dark hair, amazing smile…” he laughs as he plants a kiss on my cheek.
“Ya know, I think I saw her walking that way,” I point towards River Street.
“That’s a shame, because I told her to meet me right here. Fancy a tour of the city in her place?” he laughs, and slowly my butterflies start to go away. Everything with Liam is fun, and natural. I worked myself all up, only to realize I’m probably the most comfortable with him. Not that I’ve had loads of men around in my life.
“So where do we start?” I ask him, pulling out my phone to snap a selfie together. I’m big on documenting memories, I always have been. I think it’s a trait I gained from my father. He always would be taking pictures of my sisters and me. I can look back over my entire life and every big milestone has a picture that he’s taken to document. I loved the little notes that he would write on the back as well. Always something like, Luna Age 8, softball championships, and whatever year it was. I don’t realize it, but I space out thinking about my dad. It’s almost like Liam gets what is happening and leaves me be, while I turn into a total space cadet. Poor guy is going to think I am absolutely bat-shit crazy.
“I am so sorry, I… kinda spaced. So, let me try this again. Where are we going first?” I laugh.
“So, after we take the selfie you are aiming for, we are gonna walk up to Bay Street and grab an Uber to take us to this killer breakfast cafe I love.” As I stand there with the camera app on my phone open, I guess he knew exactly what I want to do. We stand together and he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close.
“Say cheese!” he says, as I snap the selfie. I quickly post it to social media with a simple caption.
Personal tour guide for the day! #LunaDoesSavannah #NewBeginnings #SavannahGA
“So, I guess that makes us a couple, huh?” he jokes, as we make our way up the deadly staircase that leads to Bay Street. The same staircase I almost died on just a couple nights earlier.
“Oh love, I don’t think you are ready for all that.” I give him a little sass. We grab our Uber who is waiting for us on the side of the road, completely double parked with cars beeping and complaining in all directions. Minutes later, we pull up to a small hole in the wall cafe with a line down the street.
“If you don’t get here before nine, you are waiting,” he says as we scoot out of the back of the car. “But, I promise. It is totally worth the wait,” he adds, and by the look of it I would have to agree with him. The sign on the front of the building reads Goose Feathers Cafe.
As we made our way to the door a gentleman passes out a couple paper menus, and I start to explore. Everything looks to delicious. I’m torn between a breakfast burrito and a quiche.
“What are you having?”
“I’m a sucker for their Eggs Benedict.” Something I can’t say I’ve ever tried.
“I’m torn between the breakfast burrito with bacon, and the spinach and feta quiche.”
“Oh, a girl after my own heart, get the quiche. It’s awesome,” he says, folding up the paper menu and shoving it into the back pocket of his pink shorts. As the line continues to move forward, we place our order at the register, which is set up like a cafeteria line, and we find a table. The only one available inside. We totally waited for a young mother and her toddler to finish up, while waiting for our food to steal their table.
“Tell me about yourself, Luna. It’s been a couple days and I’m dying to know more about you.” I don’t even really know where to start, I mean it’s not like I can really lead with the current state of affairs of my life. I take a sip of the coffee I ordered, with way too much sugar, before I start.
“Well, I’m twenty-eight and I am totally the middle child. I’m one of three girls. Both of my parents have passed away.” I stop there, not telling him exactly how fresh the loses are. He nods with a frown on his face, because I know I easily wear my own pain like a badge of honor. I’d always lose in a game of poker.
“I was a realtor in Florida for six years, and I needed a little change of pace so here I am. I’m not positive what I am going to do here in Savannah just yet, but I have a little time to figure it all out.” I shrug as our food is delivered to the table and the waiter takes the little number stand.
“So, you came to Savannah with no plans?” he asks, I’m sure he’s making sure he heard me correctly. It’s not something normal people do.
“It’s kind of a long story, but yes. I wasn’t happy with my life anymore, so I needed to do something to really find my happy. I know it sounds stupid, but I didn’t realize how miserable I was on a daily basis, until my mother passed away a few weeks ago. It really put life into perspective for me. We all get so wrapped up in the rat race of our daily lives that we don’t even realize we aren’t happy until it’s too late,” I ramble, and I am sure he thinks I am a total lunatic now.
“That is actually pretty amazing. I wish I was as brave as you,” he says, digging into his dish.
“You know, it’s your turn to spill something now,” I laugh, desperate to take the attention off of myself. I’ve always hated being the center of attention, which is comical considering I’m the middle child.
“I did something similar when I came to the States. I was raised by a single mom, and right before my eighteenth birthday, I went looking for my biological father with these grand dreams of having a relationship with him. My mom had warned me that he was a drunk, but I didn’t listen. Teenagers know everything, right? Well, I found him in a pint of Guinness at a local pub and we talked for quite some time. I wasn’t impressed by any means. So, that is when I made my final decision to come to Savannah College of Art & Design, instead of staying in Manchester and going to University there.” I feel for him, and I am almost sad that he didn’t enjoy the two-parent upbringing I was afforded. I never realize how much I’ve always taken that for granted.
“I’m sorry that is something you had to deal with,” I apologize. Something I’ve become good at over the years.
“Nothing to be sorry for, Love. It helped me get on with my life. Think about it… if it wasn’t for my shitty pop’s, then I wouldn’t be here with you right now enjoying this fine brunch,” he laughs, but you can also see the pang of pain in his eyes. I wish my parents were still alive because I know my father would have been awesome to him, just as he has been to all of the men over the years that have come and gone. He was never one of those mean dads who tried to scare guys off. He always wanted us to find someone awesome who would treat us well.
“Enough of the sad stuff,” Liam says.
“How about we play twenty questions,” I laugh. “You go first though.”
“Ok. I got this!” he laughs, and takes another bite, washing it down with his black coffee.
&n
bsp; “Favorite non-alcoholic drink?”
“Sweet tea, hands down!” I’m a southern girl, what do you expect? “You?”
“Tea of course, just not the kind you like. Your turn.”
I struggle to think of a good question. There is just so much I want to know about him.
“Favorite movie?” I finally ask, trying to think of what my favorite would be because I know he’ll turn it back on me just as I did to him.
“A Clockwork Orange, you?” And there it is! Ha!
“You have to promise you aren’t going to make fun of me for this…” I say, taking a pause and waiting for his acknowledgement. He winks and I blurt out, “Forrest Gump.” Something about the movie just has roped me in my entire life. “I watch it at least once a week, or every time I catch it on cable,” I laugh while admitting one of my dirty little secrets.
“That’s a good one! Tom Hanks is a genius.”
“I’m stuffed,” I say, pushing my plate away and taking another sip of my coffee. The food was absolutely delicious, and now I have another place to add onto my food obsessions here in Savannah. Seriously, this place has the most amazing food, no joke.
“I also believe that it is your turn.”
“Ok, ok! Where do you see yourself in five years from now?” I ask. It’s a loaded question, but it’s also something I’ve always asked all the men in my life. I need to know if we are on the same page with life, before I invest so much time. Maybe that has been part of my problem? I’m so worried about finding the perfect guy with the perfect goals that fall into line with everything I’ve told myself I’ve wanted in life, instead of just jumping into something because I feel something for someone. Maybe I’ve been doing it wrong all this time?
“I’m not exactly sure. I’m hoping to still be here in the states if the INS doesn’t throw me out when my divorce is finalized. But I’d love to go back home too, visit with my family and friends that I haven’t seen in quite some time. Maybe get married, or have some kids. The whole American dream idea for a British bloke,” he laughs. “What about you?”
Falling Forward Page 7
