Harbor Lights

“It won’t fit, Vanessa!”

My mother had come up with every excuse imaginable to keep my belongings out of those cardboard boxes and in my bedroom. Her current object of focus was the black and leopard duvet cover living on my bed, but in actuality I don’t think it was the comforter that she was going to miss.

“Mom, I’ll make it fit,” I said, practically strangling the blankets to death as she secured the last box with packing tape. “See? Just had to force it in there a little.”

“I need a cigarette,” she said, failing to pay acknowledgement to my comment. She stared at the box forebodingly for a second, then headed down to the patio. I quickly followed.

This had been going on all day; several days, actually. My mother had spent the last few alternating between three activities: pretending to help me pack while actually being counterproductive in doing so, smoking way more cigarettes than any human should, and lecturing me on all the things I needed to do and all the people I needed to call once I finally got to LA... if she ever let me get there. Nothing was ever easy with this woman, but I kept telling myself it was love and not insanity driving her to act this way.

Once she finished her cigarette we headed inside, gathering the remaining few boxes that were strewn about the house and stacking them with the rest by the garage door. It was eerily quiet as we did this, but I knew it was only because neither of us wanted to say our inevitable goodbyes just yet.

“Now when you get to LA don’t forget to call Troy,” my mom started again. “He’s working for some reality show on MTV or E or one of those channels you kids all love. I can’t remember where, but he’s definitely got connections to some kind of shit.”

“Mom, relax... I’ll call him,” I reassured. “Don’t worry so much; I’ll be fine.”

“And make sure you let Lisa know you’re in town please, give your mother some peace of mind. It’ll be nice to know that at least one responsible adult is looking out for you kids.”

Lisa. My mother’s moderately insane sister, making her my moderately insane aunt; and definitely nowhere near a responsible adult.

“Yeah mom, whatever, I’ll let aunt Lisa know.”

By then every last box had been accounted for and everything was all set and ready to go. With the combination of the brown box tower and my now vacant room, this move was finally hitting me.

“You know Nessy, if you fail at becoming celebrities you girls can always whore Callie’s loose vagina out for money.”

And there she was; the mother I knew and loved. The hilariously inappropriate woman whose comic relief could lighten any mood. But although we were both all smiles, the fact that I was leaving the house that built me for good tomorrow was still lingering in the air like a storm cloud about to burst into rainfall.

“I love you,” I said through laughter, referring to her joke but also truly meaning the statement.

“I love you too, kiddo,” she replied, a sadness glazing over her honey brown eyes. “And as much as you say I’m always on your back and that I need to relax, you know I’m only on your case because I love you.”

I smiled, trying to fight the tears that were beginning to well up. My mother sure was a character, and I was going to miss that woman just as much as she was going to miss me.

“I know,” I finally said, pulling her into a hug.

She hugged me back, sniffled a little, and cleared her throat. “I need another cigarette.”

“Horrible,” I said with an eye roll. “I do not condone this habit and I refuse to come outside with you again.”

“Well fuck you then,” she replied sarcastically, closing the screen door and lighting up. “Mmm; tobacco.”

“Sick. I’m going to bed.” And that was the extent of our goodbye.

---

Despite the fact that I’d gone to bed well before midnight, six AM rolled around so quickly that I felt as though I had gotten under an hour of sleep. My mother woke me up, quite irritated after hearing the repeated snoozing of my alarm, which I often subconsciously did at such early hours. We had a quick breakfast together consisting of Honey Nut Cheerios and small talk, and she was off to work with a kiss and a hug and another lecture about calling Troy and 
Lisa before I’d even fully opened both eyes. I really was not a morning person. Callie called me around seven to tell me that she had fallen asleep on the couch mid-pack with a bottle of wine in her hand and went on to say how proud she was of herself for waking up so early without any phone calls or alarms. Regrettably, she also now had a huge wine stain on her carpet to clean up and about another hour or so of packing to do. So, ten AM departure time it was. Damn it, was my mother good. It wasn’t until almost ten-thirty that I finally got a call from Callie.

“So, how much room do we have in the moving truck?” is the first thing she said to me when I answered.

“Hello works,” I replied with a laugh.

“Uh yeah, hello, hi, good morning... seriously though, is this truck fucking huge or what? Because I have a lot of shit.”

I couldn’t help but laugh; this was typical Callie. She was the epitome of a hot mess. At first glance she had an all-American innocence about her; flowing golden waves, sparkly blue eyes, creamy skin, curvaceously perfect body. Yet in her case, the phrase, “don’t judge a book by its cover,” could not apply more; she had the mouth of a trucker, drank like a fish, and sat on as many faces as she could without being a trashy whore. She was my best friend, and I absolutely adored her.

“Don’t laugh at me bitch, I’m being serious!” she continued. “I don’t think all my crap is gonna fit in one of those little U-Hauls. I’ll be to your place in five minutes anyway, I have to get off the phone. I can’t really see where I’m driving; my boxes are stacked kind of weird right now and they’re falling, like, everywhere.”

I began to respond, but she’d already ended the call. Ten minutes went by and I saw Callie’s white Escalade round the corner. She honked her horn all the way down my street and pulled into the driveway with a screeching halt.

“‘Sup, slut?” she said as she came inside, eyeing the stacked boxes. “Yeah, all of those... not fitting in my car.”

“I know,” I responded obviously. “I hired a moving truck to come pick up a few of the bigger objects like my bed and the papasan chair, so I’m thinking that most of those are just gonna go with that stuff. But, don’t you still have tons of shit at your place?”

“TONS of it. There’s only about a third of it in my car and it’s loaded up. What time does the U-Haul guy get here?”

“U-Haul is for when you rent a truck to drive yourself,” I explained. “The guys I hired are coming at six.”

“I’m not renting a truck and driving it myself!” exclaimed Callie. “I can barely drive this beast without running over someone; there’s no way I’m taking one of those things cross country! Plus who would take my car then?!”

“Dude, relax. Cross-Town Movers are doing it, and like I said, they will be here at six.” I loved the girl, but sometimes she didn’t really hear what I was saying.

“So if they’re coming at six, that means if they go the speed limit they won’t get to LA until tomorrow afternoon, which means we’re going to beat our stuff there by like seven hours. Nessa, are you high?! My bedding costs more than my life! I kind of need it immediately.”

“Breathe, Callie... breathe.” She liked to freak out a little; and by a little, I meant a lot. And often.

“I’ll breathe when my $1400 comforter is wrapped around my body, in my apartment, in Hollywood,” she replied, pacing the sidewalk frantically. “We’re gonna have to go back to my place. I have anxiety. This is giving me anxiety Vanessa, I don’t think I can-”

“1400 DOLLARS?! Are YOU high?!” I interrupted her rant as her words hit me.

“It’s designer, and it’s like sleeping on a luxurious cloud of awesome.”

“Does it give you multiple orgasms for that price too?!”

“Okay, relax... if it did that I would never leave my room. Now focus; can we please stop at my place on the way? Pretty please? With sugar on top and all that shit?” The ridiculous look on her face was just way too much for me to say no to.

“I don’t like shit in my sugar, but fine. I mean, we were supposed to be on the road three hours ago; what’s an extra twenty minutes?”

Realistically, we didn’t make it on the road until noon. Callie’s car was loaded to the brim, her massively overpriced (and overly massive) comforter taking up every last iota of space that would have possibly existed in the vehicle had we not stopped for it. Sure it was soft; but sharing my personal bubble with it for a thirteen hour drive was not exactly on the top of my list of things I’d love to do. Soon enough though, we were on the I-10, and the valley was rapidly disappearing into the rearview.

“Are you gonna miss it?” I pondered out loud, more to myself than anything.

“Fuck no. Are you?” Callie was never one for holding back her feelings.

“A little. I mean, yeah... I think so.”

“What? The cactuses?”

“Cacti,” I corrected.

“Whatever. The desert? The never ending brown? Arizona is ugly, it’s hot, and I’m over it. I’m ready for something new Nessa... that’s why I’m doing this; that’s why WE’RE doing this. Remember?” It had originally been my idea to move somewhere after all, and my mother’s and aunt’s blessings to go to LA that had finalized our big move, yet evidently it seemed that Callie was a lot more sure and had a lot more confidence in this than I did.

“Hellooo? Anyone home in that pretty little head of yours?” Callie brought me back down to Earth with her bitchy humor.

“Yeah,” I laughed. “And I do remember. California will be good for us; we need something new... a little excitement.”

“After living in boring Tucson for twenty years, that’s a bit of an understatement.”