1.1: Leaving

“Are you sure?”

“I have to Mom.”

“My baby...moving away.” I felt tears well up as she stuttered her trusting, loving thoughts. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I'll call. I promise you won't lose me.” Loss. A feeling Sandra Janes knew all too well. Her baby. Alyce, was moving away. Just like Mark had left. At least Alyce wasn't fleeting love; if she was, what was left in the world for her?

“A-ar-re you leaving now?”

“Soon...soon. May I look around? One last time?”

Of course, honey. It doesn't matter if you're leaving, this will always be your home, You're always welcome.”

“Thanks.” I smiled and stared at her old, worn face for a minute.

  The years of being a single mother had aged her quickly. She wasn't a day older than fifty-two, yet she looked older. The moments of grief and pain etched its self across her face, the misery of lost hope streaked its grayness through her once silky blonde hair.

I stepped into my childhood bedroom, looking around. Everything had the same familiarity. My toys, the same as when I was an innocent six year old, just with the colors worn from being pushed aside and neglected. I tried to make my room more like a place a teenager lived, but with money being so tight I couldn't afford new decorations and posters.

   A picture hung above my bed, of me back when I had no idea of the world's misery. It was dated to the morning before he left. The date haunted me; but my Mother was worse. I had learned not to give trust away and stay guarded. To be guarded was to be safe. Men weren't to be trusted. Life could easily be a lie. These were the lessons I learned from my Mother's tears.

   I quietly shut the door. I picked up my suitcase that was filled with the few scraps of clothing I'd own. My Mother had regrettably splurged on my new wardrobe for my eighteenth birthday, a mere two days ago. I'd graduated high school a month ago. One month to figure out what I needed to do with my life. I couldn't stay, living with my Mother. Bills were expensive and money tight; the last thing she needed was me hanging around.

   I couldn't afford to attend a university. Not that I wanted to. I'd always wanted to become a ballet dancer when I was littler. To glide around the room, as if I was floating on thin air and clouds, what could be better than that? I took lessons for four years, from age four to eight. A year after my Father left, money was too tight. Another childhood love that took a backseat. Not that I should complain. My Mother worked three jobs, seven to eight, trying to put food on the table and put clothes on my back. That's why I was going into politics. Pay was good and you didn't have to know much, you just needed to be a people person; charismatic. I could be that.

I opened the front door and stepped on to the porch. I whispered my final goodbyes and I love yous and hailed a cab.

“Bridgeport, please.” I told the cabbie.

“Mhm, hmm.” He vaguely replied.

   I watched the trees fly by as I thought about my life. It wasn't to bad. I had enough change in my pocket to but a nice, affordable apartment; I wouldn't have to pay rent. I could try and nab an interview at City Hall, work my way to the top, and buy myself a nice home that was perfect for....I felt a tear roll down my cheek. Children that's what I never wanted, yet somehow growing old and lonely, like my Mother, didn't seem appealing. I never wanted children. It wasn't that I disliked them, I though they were cute, but how could I ever trust a guy enough to raise a family? I liked men, some men, but I wanted to stay career focused. The day turned to dusk, as I watched the old barns turn into rolling hills and emptiness. Finally, we crossed the bridge into the bright lights of the urban Bridgeport. Perfect for the politicians.

   I stepped out of the cab, giving him the outrageously large amount of money he demanded, in front of City Hall. First up, I was going to find an apartment, I'd worry about my career tomorrow. Luckily, a couple was desperate to sell, and sold me the furnished apartment for a minor five thousand sixteen hundred dollars. I sighed on the line right away and took the subway to my building. It wasn't the most gorgeous place, it wasn't hideous and looked like all the slums were there, it was an in between perfection.

   The furnishing inside was cheap and dull; I could see why the previous owners had wanted to desperately move, but if it saved me the time it'd take to go to the furniture store, it would do. I didn't need a big place anyway, it was just me.

   It was to late try and find a job, yet to early to go to bed. I wasn't going to waste my life drinking and partying.

“Alyce, you can do this. Be confident.” I tried giving myself a little pep talk in the mirror. “Politics are cut throat competition. Every gal for herself.” I knew Bridgeport wasn't anything like the small town country town of Appaloosa Plains,but it couldn't be that hard. Could it? I heard the rumble in my stomach and knew I should have went to the grocery store. I scrimmaged around in the cabinets, looking for anything edible that the previous owners had left behind. A box of stale corn flakes, two cans of split pea soup, and a six pack of water bottles. That's what I was living on until I received a paycheck. I used the bowls and silver ware that came with the apartment and quickly cleaned up and went to bed.

“Beep! Beep!” My cheap cell phone's alarm started blaring. I groggily sat up, rubbing my eyes. Bridgeport. Job. I quickly showered, ate some dry cereal, and scurried to the subway station to find a job.

I went to http://www.bridgeport.gov/jobs51_interview/5q83d/kj4 and browsed the listings. Podium Polisher was the only open position. I filled out the application and emailed it the city. A generic, “Thank you, a reply will be received via phone by one pm.” message popped up. I glanced at the computer's clock. Noon. I had an hour to kill.

I was reading reading The History of Llamas when my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Alyce Janes?”

“This is she.”

“We would like to congratulate you. You've been hired.”

“Hired? Thank you so much! Will there be an interview?”

“No, the City Council desperately needed two employees by one pm, today. Out of sixteen young applicants, you and another young lady received the positions.”

“Thank you! I feel so...honored....”

“Tomorrow, one pm to six. Be at City Hall.”

“I will!” The other line clicked and I hung up. I had a job. A job! Next step, being promoted.