One Life To Live

I woke up this morning feeling a flourish of contentedness. I stretched my legs, and arms sinking back into the comfort of my bed. I liked where my life was heading – even though things weren’t set in stone, I finally realized that maybe that’s what God has been trying to tell me all along. I, by definition, have always liked everything to be in order; it’s helped me manage all the stresses and be successful. Perhaps having a guy in my life would make me see what I’ve been missing by just going with the flow, and letting loose.

One thing that I’ve learned in the past is never to have your heart set on a guy who you’ve just met. Although, I’ve always prided myself on being someone who could tell what others were like. What their disposition and their intentions toward me were. It seemed that Lance was a genuine person; a man of good morals (I’m trying not to think of his alcohol preferences.), and who has treated me well so far.

I always give everyone a chance.

One or two chances?

We’ll have to see.

Bethany Lynn was still asleep in her twin bed parallel to mine. Her sweet, bumpkin face was half off the bed as usual, and she was flat on her stomach – arms flailing across the sheets, drool seeping out of her open mouth. I smiled. She was the sister I wished I had.
Her alarm would always go off at seven o’clock every morning, mostly because of weekly school hours. It would go off on weekends mostly because she would forget that she had it on. It was five minutes from buzzing, 6:55 a.m., so I turned it off for her. I wanted to let her sleep in today.

Thinking on my feet, then I headed to the kitchen – our 10 x 10 intimate space with a counter, microwave, refrigerator, and stove – and pulled bacon, eggs, and ham from the refrigerator. We had a various supply of food in our medium-sized refrigerator. Because Bethany Lynn insisted we used her money, which she had a lot of, the refrigerator consisted of steak, left-overs of pasta and Chinese, gallons of milk, fruits, vegetables, lunchmeat, white wine, grits, and cinnamon rolls. Our pantry was filled to the brim with everything from macaroni and cheese, to chocolate cake mix. Bethany Lynn believed in eating hearty and healthier than the average college student – and I was thankful for it.

I made a little more than minimum wage working for Barnes and Noble book store and couldn’t really afford to spend it towards anything but school tuition. Even with the academic scholarship I’ve received from my good grades in high school, college life is still hard, as I had anticipated. I left my house back in Rochester, Minnesota when I was eighteen, and wanted nothing more than to start my life. I’ve dreamed of living in New York, being a part of the rich culture, entertainment, and the flood of opportunities that seem to emanate from it. My real, secret dream was to be an author, however I knew that road was a long, difficult one. Being involved in medicine as a major...it felt like second nature to me. I was good at it, and liked most professions it had to offer.

I cracked the eggs into a skillet I had hot on the stove, and eased it around adding bits of ham in the process. I was a big on breakfast girl; always have been since my mom used to make me chocolate chip pancakes before every big test I had in school…

Sadie Cavlavier.

My mom.

My lower lip quivered, and I felt my eyes water.

I’ve missed her so much. She was everything to me. My inspiration, my role-model, my number one fan... She was my life support all through middle school. It broke my heart to learn that she left my dad when I was fifteen; she and my dad separated from each other for that whole summer. A few months later, she filed for divorce, and Dad got custody of us; my brother Devin and me after she died of breast cancer that following year. There has been a huge, gaping hole in my heart that I have yet to seal up. I didn’t like to share that tid-bit with people; I know it’s a total turn-off knowing you have “family issues”.

I mentally shook my head, trying to brush it off. I flipped the omelet, cooking it on both sides, and sprinkling it with cheddar cheese. In the meantime, I plopped the bacon into the oven setting it for six minutes.

I turned off the stove top, and leaned back against the counter sipping a glass of milk I had previously poured. I stared out the window, looking across all the intimidating buildings that made up New York. I was glad to be out by myself, making a name for myself, and doing what I intended. I felt a sudden pride rise up in me for all the strides I’ve made in the past years. My father was never a true dad to me – only in the early years of my life when things were happier. I was the real parent for three years to my younger brother. I now know why my mother left him; he was a drunk for a long period of time, and had a bit of a gambling problem. At the time I didn’t know – I was too naïve. My mother tried to keep it under wraps from us because she knew that wasn’t good for us to see.

The timer rang a few minutes later, and I dumped the grease from the pan. Drying the bacon off, I let it sit on the countertop and put an omelet onto a plate for Bethany Lynn covered by a paper towel to keep it warm.

I took my own, and two pieces of bacon sitting on our cute, three-person table. I dug in, surprising myself by how hungry I was. I plowed through the ham and cheese omelet like there was no tomorrow. Somehow my metabolism didn’t allow me to gain one pound even though I eat like a pig.

At least there was that.

Thirty minutes of solitude in the morning was a prospect I’ve enjoyed for the past three years. Gave me a peace of mind, and taught me to appreciate the simplicities in life.
Even if life wasn’t simple.