It was difficult to be moving to a new place, and I wasn't thrilled to leave behind my friends and all the places that were familiar to me in Connecticut. My parents waited until I graduated high school to let me know that by the end of summer we'd be moving out to California. I didn't understand why we were moving other than my dad said that better job opportunities were waiting out there. I thought that having his own start-up internet business would mean that he could travel, then mom and I could stay here and keep an eye on the house.
I was going to miss Connecticut, especially the woods. My mother said the house we were living in had been built on one of the oldest former Indian reservations and first properties established in the area. Before that, it was almost all forest and wildlife. There was even a tale of a fabled creature that used to roam the property. It creeped me out from walking into the woods as often as my mother did. She was a Connecticut native and I didn't know how she did it.
When I would ask her, she'd simply say that if she paid no mind to the woods, then the woods could pay no mind to her. I thought it was odd, but she'd never explain anymore than that. My gramma was just as obscure with her own experience of the woods, but I didn't want to upset her by asking too many questions. As I was now eighteen, an adult, graduated class of 1997, and faced with the reality of leaving everything behind, I started to regret that I didn't do more to enjoy my hometown.
I trudged down the steps and entered the kitchen where my mother and father were going over plans. There was an envelope that was from the bank sitting on the countertop and they looked like they were packed with a small suitcase each.
I felt alarmed by this revelation, and approached the kitchen table.
"Mom, dad? What's going on?" They had been so immersed in the paperwork they were going over that I had sneaked up on them.
"Hi, honey," my mother answered first and walked over to the coffee pot that had finished brewing and turned up three mugs, "we ran into some issues with the house, and your father is leaving today on a business trip down to New York. So, I need to fly out to California to sign some paperwork."
"Can't they fax it to you?" I asked, taking up my sunshine yellow mug and walked to the fridge. I brought out a bottle of creamer and poured it almost to the brim. Walking over to the table, I lifted the sugar jar and dropped two tablespoons in, then stirred it.
"No, they need your father or I to come on site, go over the construction plans and then personally sign off on it. Not even our real estate agent could approve the changes without our say-so." She explained with an annoyed sigh.
I understood. At least I wasn't being asked to come along this time. Ever since I turned eighteen a few months ago, my parents started to trust me being home alone and taking care of the house. As I set the spoon down on the table and put the lid back on, my mother pointed at the spoon and then to me.
"Are you the one that's been using the sugar spoon and putting it back wet?" She exclaimed.
"No. I set it down on the table like I'm supposed to and replace it with a new one." I answered, then glanced over to dad, and he had a smear of guilt across his face.
"Honey, that's my fault. I get into a hurry and I'm not thinking about it when I put the spoon back into the jar." he confessed. My mother glared at him with daggers in her eyes, then looked back to me and instantly, the guilt marred her expression.
"I'm sorry, Darian." she said genuinely, and I nodded.
"It's alright. So how long will you be gone?" I asked, taking a sip of my overly sweetened bean brew.
"I'm leaving today and will be back late Thursday night or early Friday morning," she walked over to the counter where I saw the bank envelope and picked it up, "I am leaving you money to buy groceries and fill up the gas tank. Be sure you follow the list, and I left some extra cash to grab some snacks for yourself or some of those Digiorno's pizzas if you have some friends over."
She set the envelope down in front of me and I didn't look at it. Teenager's bluff; never let your parents see your reaction to money they give you.
"Thank you. If I have anyone over, it'll probably be Cassie." I said.
"Well, I don't want any boys coming over to stay the night, do you understand?" My father sternly said to me, and I nodded, lowering my coffee cup from my lips.
"I understand. There won't be any boys staying in the house." The loophole I conjured is that most of the guys I knew were men. They were over eighteen and a lot of them went to college.
"Good." He checked his Rolex watch on his wrist and took a drink of his coffee, thinking nothing more of how I worded my response.
"So, you never did tell me what's out in California, dad. You said you are investing in a company, but which one?" I asked.