Page 5 of A Country Kind Of Love
“I don’t care.” She lowers her head and walks away. She did care. She hated Eva, not because she was a horrible person, no. From what everyone said about her she was the reincarnation of the Virgin Mary, but she had stolen the life Peyton wanted. She spent months asking herself,what does she have that I don’t? Why does she deserve to be happy when I’m not?Those two sentences even formed the chorus of a rather depressing song about being theother girl.
Chloe swears she didn’t cheat, but Peyton heard rumours from old friends on campus, and you don’t just ‘fall in love’ with someone else without any premeditated intention. It’shistory now.
“Are you sure? She’s been asking about you.” James sneers.
“Are you trying to wind me up?” Peyton drops the box in her dad’s arms, and balls her hand into a fist. Growing up with two brother’s meant less time playing with dolls, and more time being used as a prop in a makeshift wrestling ring.
“I’m just telling you what I heard.”
Dylan stands. “Do you want punching in your non-existent abs again?” She unclenches her hand; Dylan will happily doit for her.
James laughs. “You’re all sosensitive.”
Peyton reaches for the scrapbook and launches it in the trash can. “There. That’s better.”
“Does that mean I can date her sister now?” James teases.
Dylan bolts across the grass and forces James into a headlock. Their dad is the only one helping the movers with the piano. Dylan is forcing James into submission with a noogie. Life is normal. She’ll miss it.
A black pickup truck pulls into the drive next door. It’s Chloe’s mom; that shewon’t miss.
2
Peyton flicks the switch on the bedside lamp, the dark room becomes dimly lit. The gold bed spread is clean, the dark wood furniture unscathed, and although the carpet has seen better days, she’s comfortable with the standard of room. The motel is within budget, and by far the better reviewed. The flight took four hours, a lot quicker than the road-trip her dad initially suggested. She preferred to leave that to the movers who were currently transporting her personal belongings across the country; having an Uncle who works for the removals company has its benefits. She was able to factor in a substantial friends and family discount when it came to that part ofher budget.
She studies the list she strategically compiled of the best neighbourhoods in Nashville. The internet can teach anyone anything about anywhere, and Peyton has become its servant. She zeros in on the two areas she’s highlighted in blue, and circled in thick black marker. Music Row and The Gulch are in the heart of the city, and most definitely the favourable choices. In her extensive portfolio of all things Nashville, Peyton opens up a four-page document entitled,Budget Review.
The average cost of living in Nashville is a considerable increase on the fifty dollars a week she was paying her dad. Her document factors in the rate of an average hotel room and the seven-nights she will need to find an apartment. The seven nights timeline is based on a YouTube video she found of a girl relocating within the US. The girl was relocating from California to Michigan, but she figured it wouldn’t differ too much.
Wrong.
The competition is stiff for apartments in the downtown area. Peyton wasn’t to know just how stiff until her realtor called with four cancelled viewings that day. In hindsight she should have found an apartment before she moved across the country, but she figured one of the eight apartments she lined up would be suitable. Those eight dwindled down to two over the space of twenty-four hours. The market for one-bedroom apartments, according to the realtor is, “more demandingthan ever”.
Peyton did everything she was supposed to do. She determined her renting budget, researched the area, and made a list of necessities she thought were reasonable. All she wants is a living area with enough space for her piano, an apartment located between floors two and five, and a view overlooking anything other than a back alley or aparking lot.
She scrutinizes the remaining two apartments, but neither seem suitable. One is way over budget, and if she struggles to find employment in the competitive music industry, which is likely, her savings will barely last three months. The second apartment is on the first floor of a newly refurbished building in downtown Nashville, and the first floor is directly above a honky-tonk. The realtor advised that there is, “some noise disruption”. Which Peyton took as she’s going to feel the room vibrate from the intense sound system below; there was a reason she specifically stated floors 2–5. It’s a no.
The day’s events leave her withone option.
Craigslist.
Her budget doesn’t allow for a two-bedroom apartment, unless...In the small print section at the bottom of page two in her budget review there is a tiny disclaimer, *If all else fails, finda roommate*.
How hard can it be?Peyton figures there must be thousands of normal, interesting, young, music loving millennials just waiting for her tocall, right?
Wrong.
Upon doing some research Craigslist presents her with two hundred potential roommates. When she eliminates the one hundred plus posts with no actual pictures of the room, descriptions that give off serial killer vibes, and the men “seeking women” for their dingy furnished bedrooms, probably fully equip with surveillance equipment and peep holes. It leaves her with exactly four tochoose from.
Peyton slams the laptop shut. Her heavy eyelids force her to take an early night; tomorrow morning first thing she will email all four prospective roommates.
?
RoomForRent/Convenient/Spacious/ProfessionalFemale/$800
Hey all! I’m looking for a fellow female companion. You know, like a best friend, not in a gay way or anything, like don’t worry I won’t be eating you out whilst you sleep. I recently split from my husband (married after 6 months, divorced after 12—worst mistakeof my life).
Are you scared of spiders? I have been an arachnophobe for over a year now. My therapist told me I must be, because why else would I be so irrationally terrified that I accidently stabbed my best friend in the arm with a fork. I need someone that can catch the spiders. Don’t worry I will hide the cutlery. I prefer to eat with my hands anyway, Indonesian style.
