Every place I have ever visited in the States was a major city, the lights and skyscrapers shining. But I'd never been in an actual neighborhood.
Many houses look the same. And there's a lot of, well, urban art.
"Be it ever so humble," she sighs, breaking into my thoughts, looking at the house.
The place was definitely dated, or as some would say, old. A coat of paint or two would do wonders. I look at her, and say, "there's no place like home."
"Uh-huh," she says almost sadly.
"You said you bought this house before you left?" I say, looking at it after we get out of the car.
"Uh, it was sort of a fixer upper," she shrugs. "It saved us money that way. I know people, so they helped with it." She takes a deep breath and looks up at me, and I smile down at her. "Let's go."
"It looks exactly the same," she mutters as she leads me inside, then yells, "Shannon!"
A large woman steps into view with a cane. She is older. "Hey--"
"Hi," she moves to her, and hugs her. "How are you?"
"Alright," she says quickly and moves past her as her eyes set on me. "Oh, my God. So you really are seeing this guy?!" She looks me over, smiling. "Wow, okay...." She offers her hand daintily. "I'm Shannon, her older sister."
"Hi," I nod with a poster grin.
"Glad you made it in today," She smiles broadly. "So, what are you making tomorrow?"
"Same as usual, I guess?" she shrugs. She clearly did not want to do that. "Are my bikes still here?"
"Yep, in the garage," she chuckles.
"Darling?" I chuckle. She turns and I jiggle the car keys. She rolls her eyes and gives a humorous smile. She wasn't kidding, she was on her bike a lot in the United States. She was like a duck to water.
We go upstairs, and I see her apartment, which is nicer than downstairs.
"It's not much," she says quickly. "but I wasn't done decorating when I decided to leave." She stops moving. "Who's that? Who's up here?"
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"Hanson Heating?"
"Oh," she says with a smile.
The man rises and turns to look at us with a smile. "Hi...hey, you look like...no, you're—"
"Hello."
"Oh, my God, you're the American girlfriend?!" the man asks.
She gives a small smile. "Please don't tell anyone he's here."
"No problem," he says with a nod. "Name's John?"
"Hello, John," I nod, shaking his hand. "Maintenance?"
