For Someone Like You

$22,372.

Not counting Devin’s tuition or the first month of rent that we had already wired. It was what we had to get from the mid-western, forgotten portion of Michigan, all the way to the slummy parts of LA. We’d saved up for two years – money I’d gotten from waiting tables, graduation money, and the cash Devin collected randomly since we’d been planning, along with the cash she’d gotten from selling her old car.

Boston was the original thought, since there was a good school for Devin to learn about music to help her become a tour manager, but we’d both been accepted to a music college near Hollywood through people I’d met as a musician and who Devin met being… Devin. We couldn’t say no to LA.

Though I was excited to get out of a newspaper-acclaimed dying city, I was afraid of leaving home to end up not finding a job to support us and lose the apartment we found. I couldn’t get into the college until I was twenty due to personal problems, so we weren’t planning on leaving any time soon. It was either make do or we could end up on the streets.

We both grew up differently and it was strange that we were able to get along so well, but that’s another story. I woke up early the day of our departure, before sunrise as we’d planned. I stared at the home I’d had for a few years as I stuck the key in my Rabbit’s ignition and it roared into life. I tried to look into my parents’ window, then sighed, sad they didn’t want to get up earlier than they needed to, and I didn’t get a goodbye. I adjusted the mirrors to stall for another few moments, then popped in a Stereo Skyline CD and made my short trip to my best friend’s house.

“I can’t believe you talked me into getting up so early,” She whined as I got out of my car to help her with bags. “But I got to talk to David before he goes to work, he’ll be over in a few minutes.”

I smiled, happy to get a proper goodbye from my old friend – I was upset that I wasn’t planning on getting one. There were many friends that seemed apathetic to my departure, though I felt I was leaving behind my entire family.

David peeled into the driveway quickly, leaping out of his old Blazer to scoop Devin and I up into his arms and wail. After a full minute of having our lungs squeezed, Devin reminded him of our two-or-three-day journey, and that we should go. David held us tightly, begging us not to go, but I kissed his forehead as he placed us back on our feet and I shook my head.

The drive started out fine, as many of Devin and I’d road trips would – roaring together to songs by I See Stars and singing with All Time Low.

We periodically stopped for french fries or drinks, as well as super-expensive gas and at parks to stretch our legs. Devin had been on long car trips before, so it was easy for her – but I had grown so used to planes, I got stir crazy. It led to a few arguments, but nothing out of the ordinary.

After a few days had passed, we finally arrived. Dev was driving at that point, which allowed me to stick out my head and drool out the window like an excited puppy as we passed by parts of the city I thought I would only ever dream of.

All I wanted to do was leap out of the window, buy a huge cup of overpriced coffee, find somewhere for Asian food, and walk the streets – but the first day wasn’t the appropriate time. My friend and I had agreed that the first day in the city was strictly for moving in what little stuff we had with us.

The GPS told us to take a final turn about twenty minutes later, and she pulled my Rabbit into the shared driveway of a small, run-down apartment complex. “Well… this is home,” I announced, opening the door after she put the car in park, staring up at the dirty windows.

“We’re on the top floor, 133. Want to grab something now?” Devin looked over at me apologetically. Neither of us expected what we were in for. The ad and the pictures online had shown a decent, brick-built complex with four floors and new windows, flowers lining the walkway from the parking lot to the door.

Instead, we were standing in front of a three-story, thin building with old, crumbly bricks covering some spots, sections of bare concrete in others. Ivy had begun to grow on the left side, quickening the aging of the complex. The flowers were all dead, and the two cars that were parked next to us were even rustier than my Rabbit. A window on the first floor was shattered, the second floor’s air conditioner was threatening to drop, and old newspapers and Taco Bell cups littered the sorry excuse for grass at our feet. “At least the weather is pretty,” I smiled tightly, searching desperately for words that would stop Devin from whining. “And there’s a palm tree over there. No more pine trees and maple trees, right? No more snow all year?”

“We’ll make more money, and we’ll get out of here.” Devin declared matter-of-factly. “Sooner the better. Now come on and start getting bags.”

I obeyed my new roommate, scooping up the backpack I’d brought with me, packed with what I viewed were essentials. She did the same, grinned sarcastically, and we stumbled up the cracked pavement until she jammed the key into the door.