My Saving Grace

Chapter 8

"Damn, sis, you've got a nice place," Nick commented, taking a swig of beer as his eyes roamed over my living space.

"Thanks. Dad helped me find it."

This was my third day in my apartment, and already, I was in love with it. The town I lived in was called Northridge, located fifteen miles away from my workplace. The majority of apartments here were upscale with beautiful landscaping, but more importantly, it was a very safe neighborhood.

For the first time in my life, I was living alone, and it gave me a sense of true independence. With this also came my dad's immediate decision to install a security system in my apartment, which I'd automatically agreed to. However, I did not agree to him wanting to pay for the first six months of my rent.

"You haven't allowed me to handle any of your finances for you, sweetie, not even your student loans and living expenses in college. Just let me do this for you, at least until you're settled into your new job," he'd said one night during dinner.

"Dad, you bought me a brand new Jeep on my 18th birthday; that's more than enough. Trust me, I wouldn't have chosen this apartment if I couldn't afford it. My job will pay me a lot, you know that."

"I know." He sighed before continuing, a nostalgic look on his face. "You're just like your mother, you know that? Strong and independent."

Ever since my father told me the complete story of how he and my mom had first gotten married for business purposes, I'd become even more reverent of my mother, and every day, I strived to be half the woman she was.

Nick was making himself comfortable on the leather couch, stretching out his long legs on the coffee table. He'd stopped by on his way home from work to visit me; we lived about half an hour away from each other.

Every time I saw him, he always appeared so weary and exhausted--Orange County traffic did that to you. Some days, it took him nearly an hour and a half just to drive home from his office in downtown LA.

Growing up in San Diego, driving was a breeze. Traffic was never too bad, not even during rush hour. But LA was a completely different story. People drove insanely fast and car accidents were a common sight.

I'd always considered myself a calm driver, but after moving back to California, I began developing road rage, especially on the freeway, and it was sad to think about. My nice personality was officially ruined.

Nick and I ordered a pizza for dinner, and after he left, I drove down to LA to buy a painting for my bedroom wall.  A friend of mine from high school had recommended a store on Sunset Blvd. that sold elegant furniture for reasonable prices.

Thankfully, the traffic had died down since it was nearly eight, so it only took me forty minutes to get there as opposed to sixty. I spent a good hour in the store before deciding on a painting of ocean waves crashing into the cliffs. It reminded me of my mom because when she was alive, she loved going to places like La Jolla and Sunset Cliffs.

"That's one of our best-selling paintings," the sales associate said to me after I'd paid.

"I can see why. It's very beautiful."

"It is. Have a wonderful night."

"You, too." I smiled.

Outside, the city was buzzing with excitement. People wined and dined on the restaurant patios and bright lights illuminated every shop. There was a slight breeze ruffling the palm trees, and back then, I would've thought it felt chilly, but after spending four years in Minnesota, I was immune to the cold.

I spotted a Ralphs down the street and decided to head there for some late night grocery shopping. My fridge wasn't lacking anything, but some junk food wouldn't hurt. The store was pretty much empty except for a couple of customers.