Girl, Optimistic

Chapter One: A White Blank Page

The thing about being in the driver's seat in a beat-up rusted-out 1998 Sprinter van for seventeen hours straight is that it sucks. Normally I really love road trips, but I've never taken a solo one quite as long as this. In the rain.

Ugh. Rain. I know it's the Pacific Northwest's claim to fame – the mountainous areas can get around two hundred inches of rainfall annually – but I think I was in denial about what that actually meant when I made the decision to move to Spokane on that fateful day last month. I suppose I have no room for blissful unawareness now, considering my new home is in the process of welcoming me with a deluge.

Here is a secret: I am an idiot.

Let me put that in some context for you. It is September 17th. I graduated from college almost five months ago with a 3.98 GPA and two job offers. I took one of them – it was some proper nine to five office job with excellent prospects for advancement and eventual placement in a field I actually wanted to go into.

I quit two weeks ago for absolutely no reason.

Well, I guess that's not true, there were plenty of reasons, but now I'm pulling into a city I've never been to with a meager amount of belongings, a vehicle that has threatened to fall apart on more than one occasion, and no plan. I'm not stupid, but I'm an idiot.

I hear Scout's collar jingle in the backseat and take advantage of the red light I'm sitting at to turn and check on her. She's an Aussie mix with two different colored eyes – brown and blue. I adopted her a year ago and she's been a beloved pain in my ass ever since. She blinks sleepily in my direction before tucking her nose back into her haunches, curling into a ball again and falling back asleep. She's a good road trip dog. Actually, she's just a damn good dog.

The light turns green and I glance at the map again. I'd circled the property I'm leasing three times in red pen. From the looks of it, I should be there in two minutes.

I couldn't find an apartment I liked online and I didn't really want to move into one sight-unseen anyway, so I worked out a deal with a woman over the phone for a place to park my van with hookups for ten bucks a week. But I'm a half-hour bike ride from downtown and I've no access to a shower, so I keep telling myself this situation will be temporary. Everything about my life feels temporary right now. Temporary and terrifying...and kind of perfect.

The rain lets up as I turn down a muddy, rutted road and bump along for a minute before some of the gnarled, vine-strewn trees clear up and I can see a little house sitting on a couple acres of flat, grassy land. A river snakes through the right side of the property and disappears into the forest.

The front door opens and an older woman with wrinkled, browned skin and streaky gray hair pulled into a long braid steps out. A little white husky sneaks out from behind her legs and runs over to the van. The woman waves and I roll down the window.

"Hi. Are you Anna?" I ask. In the back seat, Scout jumps to her feet and starts trying to clamber onto my lap, tail wagging as she tries to get a look at the husky.

She nods and calls out, "You must be Sav."

"Yes, ma'am. Where do you want me?"

She gestured with open arms. "Pick a spot, little bird. Do you like tea?"

"Love it."

"Come in once you're settled, then. I'll put a pot on." She starts to turn back inside but whistles to the dog. "Saka, quit it!"

The husky instantly leaves the van and hurries back to Anna's side as the woman disappears inside. I drive a little closer to the river, situating myself between it and the house, and shut the van off. For a moment, I sit in the silence and start thinking maybe I'm not such a dumbass after all.