I've been keeping time on my phone, and we've been driving for precisely three hours. We'd left at around two, so it's almost five right now. Normally I would be at my favorite, discreet café exchanging my stories with the small writer's group I have been a part of since a few years ago. Tonight though, I was in the back of a convertible, watching the sunset as we make our way to my new home, I mean, our new home.
"Are you hungry yet?" Aubrey asks over the roaring wind, making me look up once more from my phone. I've been busy focusing on my blog, trying to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me.
"Uhm..." I was, for sure, but I didn't want any stops to fast food restaurants or grocery stores. I just wanted to continue driving until we made it to Connecticut.
"It's fine," She said, probably reading my expression. "I packed a few sandwiches in a cooler. We just have to open the trunk."
We still have to stop, I know, but it would just be for two minutes tops. Not twenty.
"Alright, go ahead and pull over." I stuffed my phone back into my pocket, taking a moment to gaze at my phone case. It was a hand-made drawing of me, a going-away gift by my only real life friend. As soon as I first saw it, I burst out crying because it was so beautiful. For some reason, I could see depth, as if you could see into my soul. I wish it was that easy.
"Alright, go grab it and put it up front," I nodded my head again and jumped out of the car, throwing my phone into my bag before so. Aubrey pressed a certain button that opened the trunk, so by the time I got back there I didn't have to wait.
"Anything you need, besides the sandwiches?" She'd packed some water, a few sodas and in the bag on top was some chips.
"A Dr.Pepper and Fritos." I took the same thing. It's kind of strange we have so much in common, because nobody else in my family necessarily has anything in common with me. Even my closest cousin sometimes put me down.
"Okay, here it is," I passed her the food before sitting back in my seat, once again grabbing my phone. My parents always got onto me for always being on my phone, but what was I supposed to do? It's not like there are that many good books anymore.
I have no clue how long we were driving. My mind was already far, far away. It was waiting for the reviews the fly in, the fans to fly in. Right now I was reading one of twenty, excited to finally read educated responses to my story. I was getting tired of the lame, stupid responses I got.
The first one was from a nice girl by the name of Nessa May. I'd went over to her account to see she had over five hundred followers, a feat few could get on this website, seeing it was quite small.
'I absolutely love Quina! She's so unique from many protagonists in stories I've read before, she fits well within the story. To be honest though, I know you have talent that you're not letting sink onto the pages. There were several places where you could've let the plot take on a more developed stage. Don't get discouraged, though! Your writing is beautifully poetic and definitely will get the attention it deserves!"
I took a deep breath, looking up for the first time in ages. The sun had escaped past the horizon, the stars taking it's place. My eyes flickered over to Aubrey, who seemed really tired.
"Hey, we can go rent a hotel room if we need to." She looks over at me and nods her head.
"Alright. The next town is really close, I know a really good place." We go back into silence. Most people expect me to lather in the quiet, seeing as I wasn't one for big crowds. I mean, yes, I did have a big group of friends, but I spoke to them separately. It made more sense that way.
Really though, the silence was incredibly scary. Just you and your breathing, the occasional whisper of wind blowing through branches on tress just beyond your room. It gave time for all those suppressed thoughts to raise to your highest attention, enough time to mull over them and come to a decision, one that isn't the greatest.
As we slowly drive into the city, I turn off my phone and take notice to how broken down it is. My grandparents live close to a town like this one, but that one seemed so open and close together, a place where the community was closely-knit and picture-esque.
She moves down the street to what I expect is the inn, which immediately contrasts with its surrounding buildings. Clean cut, brilliant green grass covers the lawn, patches of wildflowers here and there. A hammock sits unmoving on the swept porch, a set of steps in front of a driveway.
"Okay, we're here." Aubrey announces, cutting the engine. The sudden silence is more deafening then before, forcing me to hurriedly grab my purse and follow my aunt, and new guardian, into the perfect little inn. As I look back at the car, I realize that this is the beginning of the end of an era.