Page 7 of Touch the Sky
Not just an apartment, but a place. For me and for Shel. A place to finally live life on our own terms.
“So how goes the house hunt?” Mom asks, like she can sense what road my thoughts have turned down.
“Ugh, terrible,” I say with a groan, letting myself collapse down onto the grey, scratchy sofa in the living room. “It’s like every spare property around here is a vacation rental. There are hardly any long-term lets, and the few I’ve managed to find are either way too pricey or way too sketchy. I promised Shel she’d have her own room, so we need at least a two-bedroom. I don’t mind if we have to go way out in the countryside. I’d prefer it, actually, but that means we’d be renting a whole house, which is hard to find and even harder to afford. I just…I didn’t think it would be this hard.”
“Honey, you’ll find something,” she coos. “You haven’t even been there for two weeks.”
I lean forward to prop my elbow on my knee and rest my forehead on my palm.
“I know, I know,” I say. “It’s just that I’ve only got this place for a month. I could renew for another, but it’s so expensive, and they’d need to know by the end of next week anyway. It’s really getting down to the wire, Mom, and I just…”
I clamp my mouth shut and rub at my temples. Complaining isn’t doing any good, and Shel could walk in at any second.
I can’t let her hear how worried I am about housing. She’s already been so strong throughout the moving process. She needs me to be strong too.
“It’s just what, honey?”
I can picture how my mom would look, leaning across our old kitchen table to slide our hot chocolate mugs out of the way and clap her hand over my shoulder, her green eyes shining with gentle encouragement.
I squeeze my own eyes shut and hold onto that image.
“It’s just that every time something goes wrong here, I can’t help wondering if I’ve made a huge mistake.”
There’s a moment of silence. I listen to her breathing through the receiver, and for a second, I wonder if she’s going to tell me I’m right.
“You’re taking a chance, honey,” she says instead. “A big, brave chance to build a beautiful life for you and your daughter. I’m proud of you, and whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.”
Four months ago, that’s exactly what the thought of this new job felt like: a chance—and a desperately needed one at that. The combination of a land developer offering my parents a huge chunk of change for their property and my boss offering me a shot at taking over his old friend’s business out here in Québec lined up within weeks of each other.
It looked perfect on paper. My dad could finally start his long-postponed retirement, my parents could afford to downsize to a townhouse more suitable for getting older, and I could start running my own business instead of working under someone else in an area already oversaturated with farriers.
It was exactly the push I needed to finally get me and Shel into our own place, to make something for us instead of leaning so much on my parents’ generosity and waking up every day just to stare at the ceiling of my childhood bedroom and be reminded of how different teenage me thought my life would turn out.
I can’t say all of that to my mom, though. She already feels guilty enough about selling the house, no matter how many times I tell her moving out was for the best.
I’ve probably said too much as it is.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “I know we will. It’s just stressful getting everything set up, but I’m sure in a few weeks, it will all feel much better.”
I force as much conviction as I can into my words, but they still sound hollow.
“You know what you should do?” Mom asks. “You should take Shel out for a drive today. Do some exploring. It’s Saturday.Everything can wait for an afternoon. You should take her over to that little artist town you told me about.”
I purse my lips. Sacrificing an afternoon’s worth of trawling property listings doesn’t sound like the smart move, but then again, I’ve already burned my eyeballs staring at my screen all morning doing exactly that.
“Tess,” Mom chides, clucking her tongue like she can see the doubt on my face. “I am ordering you to take my grandchild out for a drive in the sunshine, and I will text her to make sure you’ve done it.”
I chuckle. “You know her phone is supposed to be just for emergencies.”
“Well, consider this an emergency, then,” she shoots back. “It would be a crime to waste a day like this. It is sunny there too, right?’
I glance out at the cloudless azure sky through the window and consider lying, but instead, I go with the truth.
“It’s gorgeous. You’re right. We should get out there.”
We wrap up our call, and I pad over to the sliding glass door to check on Shel. She’s still grimacing, but her hands are working over the fret board, her tiny fingers stretching out to find the chords. Some of her choppy brown hair is falling into her face, the tips of it dyed dark pink with the pack of Manic Panic I relented and let her toss in our basket at the drug store the day we arrived in Saint-Jovite.
I figured if I was making her start at a new school this year, the least I could do is let her have the hair she wanted on her first day of fifth grade.
