Accepted into a prestigious music program at the College of Music, Allie moves in with her older brother Khal, her mind adrift with thoughts of cello practice and keeping her chair in the school's world renown Orchestra.
But Khal hasn't been comple...
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There is something about unlocking the door to your first apartment that is both satisfying and overwhelmingly scary. The keys rattling in your hand as you fumble for the right one while simultaneously trying not to drop the cello that is balancing against your side.
Most people find it difficult to leave the comfort of the town they grew up in. I'd be the first to admit that in this case, I was "most people". The thought of a dramatic change in my routine friendly life terrified me. But the moment I got on that plane to Boston, that was it. There would be no turning back. The change was necessary for personal growth, but that really didn't make it any easier. At least I wouldn't be alone. I'd be sharing an apartment with my brother Khal. That made the idea of moving across the country just a little bit less intimidating and decreased the chances of me completely losing my shit, locking the front door and never the leaving the apartment for anything but work and food.
Displacement, the disorientated feeling of uncertainty and lack of belonging after relocating to a new place. The sense of loss and nostalgia for a place that had once been called home.
I would not let anxiety overcome me. I wouldn't embody a hermit.
Khal had been living in Boston for the last ten years with our Dad. Honestly, I was not looking forward to the inevitable social calls with the man who left my mother for a younger version of her. But, unfortunately, came with the territory. Such is life. I would just have to grind my teeth through the family lunches during Easter and Christmas.
Finally, I managed to find the correct key and fit it into the keyhole without dropping anything. I hesitated as it turned and stood in the hallway for a good few seconds staring at the glossy red front door before letting it swing open. The curtains were still drawn, Khal must have overslept and left in a hurry this morning. I hauled my luggage through the door. With the help of Daddy Dearest, we were lucky enough to secure a three bedroom apartment in walking distance from the University where I'd be completing my Masters in Music Composition and tutoring.
It was more a loft than an apartment. The first floor was really just a big room divided into a kitchen and lounge by nothing more than a high breakfast table and bar-stools. To the far right was a staircase that led to the two main bedrooms and next to the staircase was another door that led to a fairly sized bedroom that we haven't decided what to do with just yet. I was thinking something along the lines of a creative studio that both Khal and I could use for our respective projects.
I smiled to myself as I took in the place. At least Khal decorated. The place was filled with quirky paintings and sculptures, no doubt some of them his own creations, and I suddenly felt a deep appreciation that my brother was an Art Curator.
I wanted to unpack before Khal got home so we'd get a chance to chill and catch up. I hadn't seen the idiot since Christmas. So I began the excruciating task of getting my luggage up the staircase and to my bedroom.
