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A little toowoo-woofor me, honestly. I’m glad I left Portland but coming to Montana may have been taking it a little too far.
I mean, I did meet Bigfoot on the way here. Guys in Portland are… smaller.
I drop my bag in what will soon be my bedroom once I have some furniture. The mattress is supposed to come tomorrow, which means I’ll be spending the night in a sleeping bag on the floor, but I’m not that bothered by it.
See, that’s me being optimistic. I enjoy sleeping on the hard ground. It reminds me of the camping trips I used to go on with my parents when I was a little girl. I yearn for those days, but they never come back. They just keep fading further away as the years pass. I’m almost afraid I’ll forget about them entirely.
That’s probably one of the reasons people have kids of their own, so that they can repeat those experiences one last time…
But I’m freshly single and in no mood to mingle after the disaster that was my Portland boyfriend. He seemed normal enough, honestly, but he wasn’t. Not even close, and he really did fool me into thinking he was a nice guy, until he pounced on some girl while fucked up on meth one night and got himself arrested.
The best part – or I should probably say the worst part, but it’s funny in retrospect – is that he called me from jail to break up with me because he thought it wasmyfault that he was high in the first place. He claimed he missed me so much that it caused him to relapse to cope with my absence.
Talk about lunacy. I’ll never fault someone for having an addiction, but hiding it from me and then trying to blame me for it crosses several lines.
Andhebroke up withme!
I laugh a little as I realize the size of the bullet I dodged. At least I’m not having his babies.
I might not be having any at all at this rate, but that was never my plan. Twenty-eight, office gal, attractive but totallydonewith men. I could stand to wait a few more years, but if Prince Charming doesn’t come galloping into town on a pony, I think I’m going to adopt a couple of cats and become a mountain witch.
That’s better than becoming a Skinwalker, I suppose.
I try not to look out the windows as I walk to the kitchen to test the water. They’re like big gaping black rectangles cut into the walls, with glass so clear an unobstructed that it looks like there isn’t any at all.
And the night is so dark here in Montana. There’s not another house for several miles, and the main city is a solid half-hour away, rendering my sprawling wheatfield neighborhood blacker than soot. Looking out the window is like staring out into space after every star in the sky has died.
Curtains feel more important than furniture at this point. I probably shouldn’t have even moved in tonight, but my lease was up, and my ex-boyfriend was about to be released on bail. I don’t think he should’ve been released after the mayhem he caused downtown, but since he didn’t actually hurt anyone, they thought it was fine to let him off the hook until his trial.
He may have even tried to text me after he was out, but I blocked him, so I wouldn’t know. I’m starting over in Montana, even if it means cutting myself off from everyone who could possibly help me get settled in.
No friends, no family… nobody. It’s oddly freeing, and a lot less intimidating than it was when I first put together the down payment for this house. Actually being here by myself feels like the fresh start I needed.
And now, I just have to survive the night.
I test the tap in the kitchen, and ice-cold water spurts out of the shuddering faucet after a few seconds, running a slight yellowish color before turning crystal clear. It’s probably not the best idea to drink from it, but I brought a big bottle of alkaline water because I was told it was healthier than regular water, but I haven’t read into that claim.
It tastes good, though. Crisp and sweet, though I’ll admit that I’d rather have a hot cup of tea right now. Chamomile, preferably, but I’d take what I could get at this point.
I check the cabinets, but there’s nothing except dust and the occasional spider. Whoever left this house took every last thing inside, and it looks like that was a while ago. I wasn’t told how long this house was vacant, but it seems like it was at least a few years.
Why? Also, no clue, but whatever it was probably contributed to how cheap I got it. I’m assuming someone died, but I’m not superstitious enough for that to bother me. Ghosts don’t exist. The world isn’t that interesting.
I feel like that’s still an optimistic take. I mean, who really wants ghosts to exist? What good would come from that?
The thought of them puts tension in my shoulders as I leave the kitchen and creep down the hallway toward my bedroom. I know they’re not real, but that doesn’t stop my imagination from concocting traumatic scenarios where dead people chase me around the house.
I turn the light on in the hallway even though I don’t need it. Electricity out here costs roughly the same as Oregon, making it lower than the national average. I can afford to be a little silly.
If nothing else, the light will keep the bugs away. With the rain coming down like it is, I can imagine they’ll all be looking for a nice dry place to hang out until it passes.
Not in my sleeping bag. I’m drawing a circle of bug spray around myself before I pass out for the night. Ghost might not be real, but big spiders and cockroaches certainly are, and neither seem to have any qualms with starting a family in your ear while you’re trying to sleep.
I suddenly don’t feel so tired. I was planning on going to sleep early so that I could wake up and get a view of the area as the sun is rising, but I might as well use my wakeful hours to explore the rest of the house.
I moved in a bit of a hurry, and I never got a chance to scope out the house before I bought it. The realtor sent me pictures, but they were mostly of the kitchen, bedroom, and living area. No mention of anything else.
But there are other rooms, and I’m going to be brave and explore them.
