The next morning, I woke up with extra pep in my step. Normally, I am not much of a morning person. Usually, it takes me a good thirty minutes to fully wake up. But today, I have to get a shit load done.
I have to go for my job interview. I sent a brief prayer up to the lord last night that I would nail this interview. Settling in a new town is already stressful enough, but settling in a new town without a job would be even worse.I absolutely have to nail this interview.Find a cell phone store and start up a fresh plan and get my different phone number. Not that I actually have anyone around here to talk to, but having a cell for emergencies at least is a good thing. I'm hoping to make some friends soon.Stock up my fridge and kitchen cabinets with a run to the nearest grocery store. I am a decent cook, but I'm a freaking outstanding baker, not to brag about myself.When I was little, I used to bake with my grandmother all the time. She taught me all of her little baking secrets and shared some of her carefully guarded secret recipes with me as well.All of my old friends back home used to practically beg for me to hand over those tight guarded techniques of my grandmother's, but I never cracked.And I'm glad I didn't.I would not be okay with all of my now ex friends using my family recipes to create their little gatherings. I'm not bragging about myself, but I will, of course, brag about my grandmother. She knew exactly what to put into her recipes to prepare them unbelievably delicious.She told me that anyone could bake if they tried and got in the practice, but she also expressed that baking without loving to bake would just make them taste all the same. Furthermore, she declared that if I put passion into my baking, that those I was feeding would cherish what I created even more.Sounds silly, I know, but I would never tell her that.She passed away years ago when I was thirteen, and I miss her every time I step foot into a kitchen to bake. I remember her, the little things she used to teach me and reprimanded me on.She told me if I put just a slight dab of mayo into the baking batter that it would make my cakes and cupcakes extra moist.Mayo added moisture.Who knew? My grandmother, apparently.I did not believe her at first, no I didn't tell that to her face, but inside my head I was laughing, thinking she was just joking, but the look on her face suggested she was nothing but serious.Later that night, after everyone in the house was asleep, I snuck into the kitchen and did just as she suggested. I mixed my eggs and cake batter together to make a plain chocolate cake, and I added just a “dab” of mayo. It worked. I had made that chocolate cake recipe many times, and it never tasted that fluffy.After that, every time I baked, I used mayo.I have not stepped foot in the side of a kitchen and baked it in weeks. Those months before I moved to a new town had been rough on me. I was basically stewing in my misery.Everywhere I went, people would know about my problems. About the betrayal of both my boyfriend and my best friend.It had made me not even crave to leave my house. I would rather not face anyone.It most certainly didn't make me feel like putting any type of love into baking, and therefore, I didn't bake. My grandmother would turn over in her grave if she had seen me months ago. I stopped doing something that I loved doing all because I was so down in the dumps to get myself un stuck.That changes, though.I have her recipe card safely put next to the oven once more, and as soon as I can, I will make one of her favorite cakes.Coffee-Toffee Crunch Cake.It's been a while since I tasted that yummy goodness, and it was time I created it once more. No better way to celebrate my new life, with a cake made from my grandmother's first recipe.I stopped thinking about the past and headed into my bathroom to get ready for my first full day in my new town. I picked the appropriate interview outfit. A pair of dark blue jeans and a dark lavender silk shirt, it had sleeves that ruffled up.For my first day here, it was perfect.I had my style. I like to dress fancy. It was just how I was. Not only that, but I was the girly girl type, if I'm being honest. I liked my pretty light colors. Purple was my absolute favorite. It didn't matter the shade. Just any color purple would make me happy and always put me in a good mood.I quickly get dressed before pinning my eyes on my hair through the bathroom mirror. My dark brown hair was a mess, as usual. I had gotten a perm a few months ago, wanting a fresh me start, you know?I had changed my hair color, from my natural-born color of , and went dark. Dark like how my life was feeling back then, I guess, but also because I had put on a wing in that hair salon that day and found that I looked positively astonishing with dark brown hair.I had told Joan's my old hair stylists of the revolution I wanted, and it took about twenty minutes for me to convince him that I was one hundred percent certain that I needed that transition. Once it was all said and done, I didn't regret it one bit. I absolutely loved it. The new me made me happy. I looked different, more mature, but also more alive.I felt more alive, at least.My bitch of an ex best friend had seen my post on F******k showing off my new hair and actually had the tits to comment on how “fantastic” it looked.I would have said balls, but tits sounded funny to me.I didn't appreciate her opinion and did not comment back. Instead, I got petty and deleted the comment and about ten minutes later, I deleted my whole F******k. It seemed that I couldn't even get on social media anymore without the memory of the betrayal.I didn't want people to see her comment and pity me even more than they already did.So, poof.I had no more F******k, no more Snapchat, no more I*******m. No more anything that tied me to my old life.I pinned up my curls loosely today, having most my hair in a little ponytail, but left little ringlets of strands flowing down my face.I was not one to overcoat my face with makeup. If I'm being completely honest with myself, I can't even do make up that great. I tried watching many YouTube videos on how to apply make up.I tried all the latest trends and still, what I would create was definitely not matching up with what I was seeing on the videos, so I eventually gave up.Maybe that was one reason my ex went to my best friend. I swear, some women don't even look the same once they put on all that makeup.Brandon by the way was constantly apperceived of a beautiful face and Carla had consistently made sure never to leave her house without her face done, and I mean completely done with makeup. She would wear everything: base, eyeliner, eye shadow, mascara, and blush. She would even contour her entire face.Not only that, but she looked like a different woman.I added one coat of base to hide the redness on my cheeks, that was caused by driving for hours with my window down and left me with being a slight bit wind chapped.It wasn't too bad, only a meager redness, but I didn't want to go to my new job interview with my face looking like this. I needed to make a good impression. Even though I'm struggling with that, I preferred to look like I got myself together.I applied a little mascara and skipped the eyeliner and eyeshadow part. My eyes are sometimes sensitive and will cry because of my allergies. I do not want mascara to leave black drip marks running down my face. That would be embarrassing if I wouldn't notice while trying to make sure I landed this job.I had a nice nest egg from selling my parent's house for more money than I paid for my new one, but the money would dry up soon, and I wanted to have something to fall on once that happened.I grabbed my blush brush and added a just little bit of light pink blush on the top part of my cheeks and checked myself out in the mirror.“I look okay. This should definitely be okay for a job interview.” I mumbled softly, wanting and trying to hype myself up.I'm not overly nervous about the job interview part as I know my long years of working for 911 operations will have me at least at the top of the hiring list but also I want to make some friends and nobody wanted to be a friend with the new woman that just moved to town if she looked and dressed like the complete mess that she had been feeling for months.As soon as I'm finished in the bathroom, I shut off the light and head towards the kitchen. My grandma told me that when I leave a room in the house that I should always turn off the lights. It saves on the electricity bill. My parents never made me do that. We had a good life and didn't really need to save the electricity, but my grandma said just because we could didn't mean that we should.I'm not really a breakfast eater, I tend to skip breakfast and delay until lunchtime, but today will be a long day, and I'm not certain how long I will have to wait for the interview and how long it will actually take. I still have to go to a phone store and a grocery store afterwards, so it's best to make certain my stomach is full while I run all these errands.I decided to just make a light breakfast, some toast. My grandma used to make this gelatin called Crawfish Jelly, and it was the bomb and I mean the bomb. I loved it. Everyone she gave a jar to loved it, it was one of her favorite things to give out for Christmas.I was the only one she told about that recipe too. I keep it locked tight with all her others. Not because I was greedy and didn't want to share my grandma's love around, but because I felt that I still had her with me while I was the only one making her fabulous yummy treats.I don't really have anything else in my kitchen currently, so I guess it's a good thing that I had picked to just make toast.Bread, jelly and peanut butter.That's about all I have right now, but it works fine for this morning. Quick and easy, and I know it won't upset my stomach later. I had my gallbladder taken out a few years back, and I'll just say it's a pain in my ass. McDonald's breakfast? Forget about it. If I eat anything for breakfast at McDonald's, I had to make sure I was around a restroom in five minutes.Anyway, time to start my day.After I finished eating my toast, I put on a pair of brown heels. They have a little bow near the toes, and I found them to be adorable as soon as my eyes landed on them at a store called Marshall's. They were even on sale for twenty dollars; they were normally fifty. It was a steal.And of course, my grandmother's pearl necklace she left me. I always wear it on important days. when my grandmother first passed away and those beautiful shiny pearls were set onto my palms, I had never wanted to take them off. Until I was at school and a boy named Jake tried pulling on them. I was so terrified that they would break. I took them off and never wore them to school again.Now, they stay safely in my jewelry box until I need my grandmother's good luck and today's that day. It was my first day out into my new town. It may not be a big deal for some, but for me, it was a huge deal. I wanted people to like me, smile, and wave at me in the stores. I never had problems making friends before. My p
I quickly sent a small prayer up and climbed out of my car. I had waited a few minutes until it calmed down. It was just drizzling now, so I took that as the perfect time to enter the 911 center without having to get soaked again. I certainly would look like a wet poodle.The building is smaller than the one back home. It's also right next to the police station, makes me feel a little safe to leave, and be able to walk to my car safely.I double-check to make sure that I locked my car before heading inside. I probably shouldn't have eaten this morning. I'm too nervous. My stomach feels like butterflies are flying around it, and it's not as pleasant as some would think. It's making me nauseous.I pull open the door, and I see a guy typing away. They don't keep the 911 operators in the main room. They have their office so that visitors do not disturb them. This guy must be the secretary.Plastering a small smile on my face, I head towards him. He is either too busy or being rude and do
I followed Mr. Whitlock into his back office. I'm having to fight the urge not to bring my fingers to my mouth and bite on my fingernails as my belly turns with nerves.I have a terrible habit of nail-biting. I tried everything I read to stop that habit, but it was sometimes, most times, out of my control. My grandma used to put hot sauce on my nails, thinking I wouldn't appreciate the taste. But it didn't work. As an adult, I constantly make sure my nails are painted because it helps a bit, I don't like the taste of nail polish, so I find myself not chewing on them as much as I once did.“Take a seat, Avery.” Mr. Whitlock swung his right arm out and gestured to the small seat in front of his dark wooden desk.I have the time to look him over. His once black hair is now thinning out and turning grey. His mustache has little grey hairs sticking out, but appears to be nicely kept. He is a middle-aged man that appears to keep him self in shape.“How many years have you served with the 9
I waved goodbye to Sean behind the front desk and walked through the front door. I felt my hands shaking as I dug through my purse, digging for my car keys. As soon as I unlocked my door, I slid inside, shut my doors, and let those tears fall for Rosie.That call had really messed with me. I spent weeks having nightmares about that night, only in my horrors. I was watching it all happen. Seeing and couldn't do a thing to stop it. It would have been easier. Easier on me if they hadn't shown the family pictures in the newspaper the next day. When I picked up that paper in my driveway before heading to work, I didn't think about their pictures about Rosie's picture being in that newspaper.I had faces to names, and that haunted me. Rosie's face as she begged for my help.I allowed myself to cry for a few more minutes. Rosie was a beautiful little girl. She had brown curly hair and her smile, god her smile. It was so huge. You could just tell she was a happy child. I never understood how
Later that night, I'm in my kitchen, making my grandma's favorite cake. She used to make that all the time when I was a little kid. It took me several tries before I actually got it tasting the way hers did. You needed flour, granulated sugar, baking powder, baking soda, kosher salt, salted butter, instant coffee, buttermilk, eggs, and vanilla extract.It was not an easy thing to carry out. It took almost three hours to make it. A few moments ago, I finished mixing the ingredients. I'm waiting on the oven to pre-heat as I'm scrolling through my new phone. I got a Samsung s22. I am more of an Android type of girl than an iPhone. They are just too basic for me; I don't know. I like how I can change my themes on them. Last Christmas, I had this cutest little Grinch theme going on.It had taken me around an hour at the phone store. The sales agent kept trying to sell me the new iPhone, but I stuck to my guns and got the phone I went in to buy. I ended up finding only one cute case for i
“Everything is alright. Your safe Avery.” Cedric whispered as he unwrapped his tight fingers from my wrist.I pulled the metal cross against my rib cage, holding it tightly as I looked up at him. My heart hasn't come to the conclusion that I am safe, as Cedric just said. Instead, it's still slamming against my breast, making it hard for me to suck in a good breath.“Nobody is in here. You're safe.” He repeated, bringing his hands towards me and tugging the metal cross from my palms. Wasn't easy. My fingers were clinched tight. I didn't want to let it go. “Avery. You. Are. Safe.” He growled. I watched as his eyes darkened the word safe, and something inside my belly settled. I unwrapped my fingers from the cross and let him take it from me.“Let's go sit in the living room, and you can tell me and my partner here what happened.” Cedric suggested while checking out the bathroom when I step aside.My legs are shaking, like I'm walking on jello. I swear I'm much better in a scary situati
I was right, I got little sleep last night. No, let me correct myself. I didn't sleep more than a few minutes at a time when I dozed off while sitting on a barstool leaning over my kitchen counter. I was beyond exhausted, but I just could not shut off my brain enough for me to even fall back asleep peacefully. I was too nervous that whoever it was would come back, that I pushed things up against both my front and back doors.No matter what those cops said, I didn't make this up. I know what I heard. Someone came into my house last night. I don't know how. I don't know why. What I know is that I wasn't alone when I called 911. Even if they didn't believe me, I believed myself.I didn't have just one portion of my Grandma's Coffee-Toffee cake; I had two. Which isn't a good thing. The number of calories in just one slice is ridiculously high. I'll need to hit the gym soon.I started working out at the local gym back in my hometown before I moved. It was all a part of my new me bullshit p
I'm back at my house a little while later. I was cautious when I entered. Turned the key, poked my head inside to make sure I didn't hear any footsteps, and then locked the door behind me.I guess Vickie spread the word around the block because as soon as I drove my car onto the street; I had eyes on me. I sensed eyes on me when I parked my car, and I felt eyes on me when I had gotten out of my car. I didn't let that bother me though. I had just unlocked my door, did my little peeking and came inside. I wasn't inside for five minutes when there was a knock on my door. At first, it startled me. Nobody should come to visit me. I had gone to unlock my door, with shaking fingers might I add, and swung my door open to reveal a woman and two children standing on the other side.“Hello. Welcome to our neighborhood. I baked you some muffins and my kids wanted to make you a welcome sign” The lady had spoken softly, keeping a hand on her youngest son.I expected this, honestly. Small towns. P