The A-Listers

5- It's been years

It's been 5 years since my mother died. Life crushed to million pieces after that. I finished my freshman year in Gastonia. Grandmother traveled back and forth from their home in Silverton, Oregon to my apartment across the USA,  to keep an eye on me while I finish the ongoing school year and to take care of grandpa at the same time. It was too complicated for a nearly 70-year-old lady, so we decided that I'll move in with them. To start university in Silverton. 

Grams and grandpa lived in a small wooden cottage house, away from midtown, between fields and forest. It was a 40-minute ride to school, so soon enough I realized that I needed a license not to strain grandparents too much. I used the grampas car for some time, but the gas money was too much to pay for an old couple, and the car itself needed repairing, so I had to find a job. Our neighbor was a horse ranch owner, and although I don't know much about horses she thankfully hired me. Didn't pay me much, but it was enough to pay for gas and new car parts. I learned how to ride horses and how amazing creatures they are in general. For some time I trained to start competing in showjumping, even won few small prizes, but then had a really bad fall from my bay gelding in a lesson and it took me out for quite some time. I was hospitalized for almost two months. Paying bills was too much for my grandparents so they got a big loan, and now struggle to pay it back. Feeling guilty, I forgot about everything that made me happy... About horses, music, books, movies and started working full time and attended school only 1-2 times a week. My grades started to fall and so did motivation. But still, living a hard life had one upside, problems made me think less about my mother. 

Somehow I struggled through few semesters but soon learned that I couldn't afford to continue. My grades were too bad to get a scholarship, so that wouldn't help either.  The only thing to do was to start working. I lived and worked in Silverton for two more years, but it didn't fully pay off, so I decided to sell everything for raising enough money to move back to Gastonia and to rent an apartment to continue working there. 

,,Bye, I'll write to you! Be sure to check the mail! If you need anything, call me! I'll come right away.'' I was worried about grandparents, they were getting older and weaker and they still had the debt. I insisted to pay for that, at first they argued back, but then understood that they weren't able to pay for it anyway. Hope that I will be. 

Found one-bedroom apartment in Gastonia for $600 a month. Place was horrendous, but I couldn't afford anything more presentable. The landlord is a douche, so I have to get a job fast, otherways I don't have a place to live by the end of next month. I wanted to tidy the place up a bit, but he encouraged me to start looking for a job right now. So I did, but found nothing online. I decided to go and ask for a job from door to door. Wandered for hours until my legs just gave up so I sat down on a bench in front of the small cafeteria. 

,,Sorry, you can't sit here, it's for customers only!'' I was startled by a dark-haired girl around my age. She sounded polite, but her face was like she's about to strangle me. 

,,Sorry, I didn't know.'' I stood up and smiled at her kindly. She looked tired so maybe it was just a bad day for her. I was about to leave but decided to try my luck once again. ,,Excuse me, but I was wondering, maybe you have a job to offer in this cafeteria?''

She just looked at me like I had grown a second head. ,,Bitch, do I look like I work here?'' She snapped. I just stared at the girl, surprised by her rudeness. If I look more carefully now, she indeed wears brand clothes and shoes a waitress can never afford. ,,Are you homeless or something? Get lost, I don't have money.'' Guess she did mind me staring. 

I turned to leave fast but something came into sight. Across the street was a guitar shop where I bought my Ibanez from.

,,Hello!'' I stepped inside. The shop had not changed much, even the smell was the same. There wasn't anyone behind the counter so I slowly found my way to guitars. There were many instruments in different shapes and colors but the hard rock section was the one for me. I let my finger wander over the exact Ibanez I had but sold, and the urge to play came back stronger than ever before.