Page 144 of She Wolf

Today, that isn’t the case, and all I’m bringing with me are the precious photos I have on my phone and the memories that play like nostalgic movie clips on a loop through my mind.

That, and two suitcases.

It’s a fresh start. The familiar swirl of anxiety flares up in my belly and I catch myself just before my lip ends up as my personal chew toy once again, pulling my lip balm out to use instead.

Deep breaths, I have to remind myself. I can do this.

•••

Customs takes forever. My visa not only allows me to stay in the country for at least a year but also to search for employment and earn a wage. I’ve got insurance money—a lot of it—but the majority will be tied up, keeping the house going in England until I can decide what to do with it.

I’ve paid off what was left of the mortgage, sorted through all their belongings, and boxed up their treasures. It’s a shell of a home now, but it was theirs, ours, and I can’t give it up just yet.

Once I finally clear customs, I collect my charcoal grey suitcases and head for the exit, thanking God for 4-wheel luggage. Ignoring the people offering ‘to take me into the big apple,’ I head straight to the taxi stand and seek out the uniformed porters who are designating the cabs for help instead.

The taxi line attendant asks where I’m going and I show him the address on my phone, then he shouts it to the driver next in line. The boot or maybe I should start saying trunk now, pops open and he assists me in loading all my stuff in.

With it all safely stowed away, he kindly opens the door for me, and after slipping him a tip, I climb into the car and we pull away from the pavement with a forceful tap to the roof of the car.

Another deep breath, in and out.

Lexie, my best friend has lived here for over seven years. Top of the class in everything you can imagine, she decided to become a lawyer, took studying and preparation to a whole new level, smashed the LSAT as an international student, and then blazed her way through law school.

It’s all more familiar than I thought it would be having been here before, lucky enough to have had the opportunity to travel and visit Lex many times over the years up until the last.

A year that had been the trial of my life.

Months of devastation, heartbreak, and loss.

Weeks of staying in bed for days on end and ignoring my friends on the phone or at the front door. I’d been in denial after the funerals, moving back into the house and constantly going to the police station, repeatedly asking the officers on the case to let me read the reports and speak to those who attended the scene.

In the end, they told me that the case notes had been sealed and I wouldn’t be able to look at them again. That probably wasn’t the truth, but I don’t think they knew what else to do for me.

Utter rage followed.

An anger so deep I would pass out after running for miles or kicking the shit out of the shed in the garden trying to expel it.

Next came the begging and pleading. To God. To the universe. To whoever could hear me. Asking for a time machine, for a trade in lives, for it to not be real. Eventually, I slipped into a depression so sad I was ready to join them.

Then, one morning, I woke up to find a feather had blown through my open window and settled on the carpet. It was perfectly white, long, and full, and I stared at it until I realized I’d been sitting on my bedroom floor for what must have been over an hour. In that moment, a sense of peace washed over me. I found the strength to shower, actually get dressed, walk out of the front door and straight into the bereavement counselling services that had been recommended to me by the police.

From there it was a slow five months of trying to figure out how to carry on. Five months of every one of my friends standing by my side. Taking turns to sleep over and encouraging me to get out of the house.

Entire conversations filled with crying or laughing, or just a string of ridiculous gifs in our group chat. Lex’s parents bringing me food and doing jobs around the house. Poor Jim, Lex’s dad, fixing up the shed, time and time again.

My job… Well, that was a thing of the past. The marketing agency I worked for let me go with a long-term sickness package and it was one less thing to worry about.

Now, here I am, ready to take on the days ahead of me, both good and bad.

As my phone is in my hand, I send Lex a quick message.

Me:Made it into a taxi. I’ll be there soon.

L Woods:Can’t wait. See you in about an hour.

She’s still in my phone under that name from all those years ago. ‘Legally Blonde’ did a number on us, especially after she decided to get into law, as did ‘Clueless’ and ‘Bring It On’. In fact, I bet she’s got them cued up and ready for whenever we want to watch them.

As I tuck my phone back into the zip compartment inside my bag, the opening bars of ‘Every Day is a Winding Road’ play quietly through the speakers. I ask the driver to turn up the volume—the song an old friend. I lean my head back on the seat, watching as the city—my new city—comes into view.

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