Always Alone | ✓

Chapter One

SWEAT COVERS MY forehead as I unpack yet another box. Funny, how I had no idea I held so much unnecessary crap until I had to pack and unpack boxes. Making me think, Hmm, do I really need this? Next thing I know, it's thrown in the trash.

With the help of my mom, I threw out three garbage bags filled with old college stuff—term papers, books, and projects. I held on to these things thinking that maybe I'd need them in future classes or even in my own classroom when I became a teacher—like many of my professors warned, but no.

None of the strategies they taught me or theories I had memorized have helped me throughout my first months of substituting. It's all been pretty much a catastrophe, and no, I'm not talking about the students. The kids are great; I love the kids. The parents, on the other hand, are a handful.

My college courses predominantly focused on teaching diverse classes and the not one-size-fits-all teaching method, but we should've had a full course on dealing with crazy, overprotective, think they know-it-all parents.

I'm truly looking forward to having my own classroom in a new school this in the most spontaneous city in the United States. Hopefully, southern parents are a bit laid-back.

I look around the spacious living room and see mountains of boxes stacked neatly on the deep brown, hickory hardwood floors. The white trimming on the gray walls gives the room a sophisticated guise.

Despite the multitude of boxes, I don't own many things, mostly my collection of romance books and clothes.

My parents wanted me to bring my old twin bed, but I told them that a twenty-two-year-old woman could not be sleeping in a twin bed. I also had other reasons but decided to keep those to myself. No need to bring back old memories or a ghostly past.

After spending the last two days sleeping on an air mattress, while my parents were a few blocks away in a comfy hotel bed, I realized that I should've at least brought my old mattress. But then I think of the new bedroom furniture I bought from IKEA and I'm glad I didn't bring any of my old furniture.

My phone beeps loudly by my side. I pick it up and tap on the screen to view the message.

[Mom]
Oh, dear! How I love Miami. We've gone to so many stores. The malls here are marvelous. Your father got a bit carried away and ordered you some living room furniture; among some other things.... He fell in love with a desk that I've told him won't fit in his tiny new office, but he won't listen. Thankfully, they don't deliver to Pennsylvania. That man is as stubborn as a mule. Anyway, we'll be there in 20 minutes to help you unpack the last of the boxes and say goodbye. -Mom xo

I reach down for my water bottle and take a much-needed sip. My parents are the best parents I could've ever asked for. They're selfless and give as much as they have, even if they need it themselves. It's one of the things they taught Jess and me—to treat others with kindness and speak of beauty when seen.

Sending back a text, I make sure to end it with my name. Mom still doesn't understand how caller ID works, so whenever she calls me or types a text, she makes sure to sign it with her name and tell me it's her who's calling. Sometimes I play around with her and text back a who's this? which makes her hair hit the ceiling.

[Genna]
I'm sure it won't fit. Dad has horrible space coordination, haha. Don't tell him I said that. Thanks for everything Mom, you really didn't have to buy me anything. I love you. -Genna x

I stand up and walk towards the balcony of my new one-bedroom apartment. As I slide the door open, a gust of warm Miami breeze ruffles my hair. I breathe in the salty air of the ocean, and just on the horizon, deep-blue waves begin to form and crash in unison against the glittering sand.