Rooftop

Chapter 1

My box of records was the heaviest, though I'm still not exactly sure why. I never really went on a big shopping spree for them, only buying one or two at a time, with a few exceptions, like my big Beatles phase in 7th grade, or when I was trying to get one of the girls I knew into Foreigner. But other than that I would just sit at our record store, chugging down sugary lattes, and finishing up my homework at the very last possible minute. Which usually included copying down answers from the record owner's son, Johnny. He might have been the closest thing I really had to a friend back home.

It never necessarily that I was completely alone, sitting in the corner of the lunch table with no one to talk to. It was just more of I saw a lot of the people I would talk to as placeholders, or quick fixes, not real friends. We would talk and laugh and hang out at the coffee shop all together and have a good time, but I feel like we all knew that it wasn't permanent, especially now that I'm moving to California. And, as awful as it sounds, I'm not that upset about leaving this place behind.

            I stick my last box in the back of the moving van, and do a quick check to make sure we haven't forgotten anything, and as soon as I'm completely sure, I go back to our Ford Fusion, and sit in the passenger seat, waiting for my mom to come back.

            I look around and, after a few seconds, see her, illuminated by the small glow of a cigarette, talking to the moving van's driver. She wrinkles her nose, obviously disgusted by his smoking, but still looks very pleasant. She says a couple things, which I'm too far away to hear, and the driver nods, puts out the cigarette, and steps into the driver's seat of the van. As my mom walks over to the car, I take a quick look to make sure I have everything I absolutely need with me.

            "You got everything?" My mom asks, stepping into the car, while holding a very large tote bag, full of food.

            "Yeah, I think so." I nod, and look out the window at the dark night sky. My mom has always been a night owl, a trait that we share, and didn't want to have to wake up early in the morning, as well as the fact that she wants to be able to look around town a little bit after we get there, which isn't the easiest thing to do late at night.

            I pop off my shoes and pull on a pair of long fuzzy socks over my leggings, trying to get as comfortable as possible even though I know I won't be able to fall asleep for a while, considering the fact that it's only 10:00. I see the moving van drive off, and we soon follow, desperately hoping that neither us or the man driving the van misses a direction, because a sixteen-hour drive is long enough without having to turn around, and I'd really rather not arrive at our new house without any furniture.

            My mom breaks the silence again with another question, "Hey Columbia, you excited?"

            I nod and smile, even though I'm not really showing it, mostly because I never acquired my mom's bubbliness and constant energy, I am honestly incredibly excited to leave our old house. She smiles, able to see my actual emotions and excitement, even though they aren't always the most obvious.

            We're driving in what is nearly silence, broken only by my mom's occasional comments, and the radio, before pulling up to a Starbucks. My mom hands me ten bucks and tells me to get us each something.

            The barista, who looks to be around 50 years old, smiles and politely greets me, which I reciprocate before ordering.

            "Could I please have a medium Americano with two extra shots of caffeine, and a small latte." She looks shocked at my first order, but doesn't question it, probably assuming that I'm pulling an all-nighter to study, as many of the schools around the area are still in session, and probably starting finals soon.

            While I wait for my coffee, my suspicions were confirmed when two girls, who look around my age, come in hauling multiple textbooks, pens, and notebooks. They each order large Americanos and sit down at an empty table to start studying, already looking frustrated when I grab the coffees I ordered.

            Before going, I grab a few packets of sugar, and dump them into my latte, so that it's to the point where I can drink it without wanting to spit it out. Even though, yes, it's a lot unhealthier to put all of the sugar in that I do, I still do it because coffee is disgusting when it's black, an opinion that I don't share with my mom.

            I head out, passing another group of high schoolers at the door, and give my mom her coffee, which she chugs down in only a few minutes. I take a couple of sips of mine, then hand her a protein bar, so she won't be super jittery for the rest of the night. She thanks me, and we get back onto the road, which is illuminated with streetlights and the headlights of cars. I'm a little baffled by exactly how awe-inspiring and beautiful all of it is, and wish that I were a better photographer so that I could capture all of it.

            I'm snapped out of my trance when Born to Run by Springsteen comes on the radio, and my mom quickly changes it. I think that before everything that happened with my dad, she honestly loved this song, but because of him it holds too many bad memories, and she can barely hear the first couple of notes without getting upset. I personally always loved this song, and Bruce Springsteen in general, less because of the music, and more because I feel like it's one of the only things I can really use to connect to my dad anymore, considering the fact that I never really learned much about him, and my mom doesn't want to tell me a ton about him, because she doesn't want me to get hurt by him anymore. And she believes that that the less I know about him, the less of a personal connection I have. I feel like in theory, this might make sense, but I don't really know if in practice it does, considering the fact that whether I know every tiny detail about him, or nothing more than his name, it can't change the fact that he's my dad, and I'm always going to wonder why he left and where he went.

            "Oh yeah I finally figured out what to do for the Harrison wedding." I perk up a little. My mom is an event planner, though she does mostly weddings, but always has really interesting stories of how couples met, or sometimes tragic but funny stories of their weddings.

            "What is it?"

            "Well, basically how they met was she was studying for a huge test at a local coffee shop, and he came in, and apparently loved how focused she looked, so he went up and sat with her. He helped her study and then they started to be mutually interested in each other, and now here I am, planning out their wedding," My mom laughs a little bit at the end, a little inside joke we have is anytime she describes how a couple met she always ends it with 'here I am, planning their wedding'.

            "But basically they want it to be themed like a coffee house, which at first I thought was a little strange, but now I can see it all coming together and it's actually looking like it'll be successful, because they're doing the 'coffee house' theme on a much smaller level than I assumed it would be at, but either way I think it'll be a great wedding." I've always loved watching my mom talk about planning weddings, mostly because it's so obvious exactly how much she cares about the couples she's planning them out for.

            "That sounds nice. I think I would just attend it for the coffee." My mom chuckles a little at my comment, knowing that I'm not lying.

            Around 4:00 in the morning, I finally doze off to sleep, mind still reeling with excitement of what could happen in California.

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A/N: Yay! First chapter is up! Okay so just a couple of things but, a) Does anyone know how to indent on Wattpad, because I was attempting to, but it just wasn't working for some reason and b) so, at the end of every chapter I'm going to add in a question for you to answer in the comments (sometimes it'll relate to the story, sometimes not) because we're all friends, and friends like to get to know each other better and ask each other questions.

Q// What's your favorite movie?

A// Either Footloose or Heathers