The first night of my new life was terrible. 

I hadn't fully realized the state my grandmother's house was in until I flicked all the lights on. White cloths were draped over all the furniture so the entire house felt haunted. The kitchen probably hasn't been updated since the fifties and the three bathrooms had an inch of grime covering every surface. 

I remembered Grandma was a very clean woman, aggravatingly so, so I was stunned when I saw the dust, cobwebs, and grime covering every inch of the house. I was aware she had lived in an assisted living community for the last six months of her life, so my guess is her house has sat empty now for eight months and probably hasn't had a good deep clean since well before that. I was kept in the dark about Grandma Sadie's declining health, so I really didn't know who had been upkeeping the place in her absence. One look at the toilet had me thinking she didn't have a hired hand helping her out here. 

After lugging my cases into the master, all I wanted was a nice hot shower, but I didn't have cleaning supplies to wipe down the filth and there was no way I was stepping barefoot into that tub. I had to let the water run for a while to get it from rust-colored to clear, so there was no way I was washing my newly dyed hair under the weird-smelling stream. I assumed she didn't have a filter on her shower head, so who knows what the water is going to do to my hair and skin. 

I decided to forgo my usual bedtime skincare routine and slid into her old bed that squeaked and squawked with any movement. The iron bed frame was just as noisy as the mattress and I was devastated when I remembered I left my white noise machine on my nightstand back in L.A.

I was lying awake in the silence staring at the high vaulted ceiling when the noises started. I forgot there was a door to the attic that sat in the center of my Grandma's old room and the creepiness of the cream wooden door almost had me moving to my mother's old room. The door terrified me as weird noises moaned above me throughout the evening, but there was no way in hell I was going to check out the space in the dark, alone in the middle of the night. The thought of a ghost, murderer, or squatter roaming around above me kept me wide-eyed and awake until dawn. 

I didn't know how I was going to survive this. I was so smug when I left Mark, telling him I was more than capable of living on my own in Arkansas in my grandmother's old Victorian. I told him it sat in a charming small town, just waiting for me to breathe life back into it. Now, as I stand in the kitchen wondering what water I am going to use to make coffee with her ancient French press, I'm wondering if this whole fixer-upper thing is really me. Can I actually stay here while I try and flip this thing? She doesn't even have WiFi set up. 

I look around her mint and pink kitchen wondering where the hell to start? This is so much more than a fresh coat of paint, new lighting fixtures, and some easy cosmetic touch-ups. The humming, vintage, SMEG-looking fridge has me wondering how the hell it outlasted Sadie and the oven looks like it's been here since the Civil War. The white farmhouse sink is now a creamy rust color and the doily-looking curtains have been nibbled on by moths. I look down at the cream linoleum and don't even want to know the last time it's been cleaned. 

I think that's where I need to start. I need to wipe this baby down from top to bottom, purposely avoiding the attic though because I am not ready to discover what's hiding up there.  

I leave the vintage coffee maker on the pink-tiled counter and decide to eat breakfast in town. I usually start my day with a two-mile run and an hour on the reformer, but I am so tired and hot that just the thought of running through this humidity has me feeling nauseous. I need to get the tub scrubbed because the film of sweat covering my body has me aching for a cold shower and the day is supposed to be a hot one. 

I throw my long dark hair into a bun before stuffing it under a black Rosè All Day baseball cap. I wiped my face down with micellar water this morning and didn't bother applying anything other than moisturizer since I figured I would just sweat it all off. I do not want anyone to recognize me so I find the largest pair of black sunglasses I own and push them onto my face, using my pinky to slide them up my perfect nose. I'm still wearing my yoga pants and tank from last night, but I do not have the energy to pretend to care. I'm in fucking Magnolia, Arkansas...who am I trying to impress?

I swing the front door open and take two steps onto the porch when I remember I don't have a car. I have no way to get breakfast or cleaning supplies unless I want to walk into town and haul the bags back. I have an image of Kevin from Home Alone, walking back with all of his groceries and the bags snapping. I'm not chancing that happening to me here. 

I drop my head back in frustration and remember there is a detached garage that sits on the side of the house. My grandma might still have her car here, but who knows if it's in as bad of shape as the rest of her belongings. 

The porch groans as I move across it, but luckily no boards snap as I trot down the sidesteps that lead to the garage. I have to jump to peer into the small window that sits across the wooden garage door and I am bummed to see it empty inside. I'm catching my breath when my phone pings in my hand and I am surprised to see it's from Mark. 

Mark: Just making sure you're alive. 

I eye-roll him, knowing how amused he'd have just been watching me leap around like an idiot trying to peek into a rotting garage. 

Me: Why? It would be cheaper for you if I were dead.  

I sigh and then open my Uber app. I have no idea if they even have Uber here or if I am going to have to figure out public transportation. The thought of my two-hundred dollar leggings sitting on a musty moist bus seat has me praying there is a car available in this zip code. My heart sinks when no little car appears in my area and I get another text from Mark. 

Mark: Not funny Alabama. But since I see you responded, I guess you're fine. How did the car do?

I groan, why is he asking me questions? We are in the middle of a separation. Our court date is in three months, we are supposed to be feeling what it is like to be without each other. 

I also can't tell him I hit a deer in that car. We fought about which car I could take because they were all technically his and I demanded I have that one because it was the only one I had specially asked for for my birthday three years ago. He had just been traded to the Rams and I was throwing a hissy fit over having to move from Boston where they treated us like royalty. Three super bowl rings had us living the high life and I was distraught over the change in teams. He bought me the car to smooth things over and it's what we drove out to L.A. 

He could not know I crashed it into a wild animal fifteen miles from my destination after demanding I have it in the settlement. 

Me: Got me here just fine. 

I exit out of my messages and go back to my more urgent matter- getting around Magnolia without a vehicle. I scroll to Logan's number and pray he picks up. I'm hopeful when he does. 

"Hey Logan, it's me, Ala-Sadie. It's me, Sadie Melvin. Um, I was just checking on my car."

"The one I brought in less than twelve hours ago?" He asks and his sarcasm has me flustered. 

"Yes, that car. I just didn't know what I was supposed to do in the meantime with no transportation. Is there like a loaner car I could borrow or...?" I ask since the Mercedes dealership always gives me a loaner when I had maintenance. I'm hoping Meyer's Autobody has something similar. 

"I have a little car I can let ya borrow in the meantime. A Mercury Sable I think it is," he says and I have no idea what that is, but beggars can't be choosers. 

"Great! Can I come grab it? Like, now?" I ask and then wonder how I am supposed to get to the autobody shop. 

"Yeah, I'll be here." 

"Okay great, and uh also is there like, a local Uber company? Or like Lime scooters or something here?" 

My question makes Logan laugh. 

"You sound like a real local there, Sadie," he jokes before saying, "I can call Cooper. He does lifts for people for some side money. You at Sadie Senior's still?" 

"Yes, on Hope Street. I can just wait on the corner if he can come swoop me up." I tell him and then drop onto the broken porch step. 

"Lemme call him," Logan says and then the call drops. I have no idea who Cooper is but I'll tip him heavily if he can be here before the sun melts me into a puddle. It's only eight-thirty and already the humidity is covering me like a soggy blanket. I peel my tank away from my chest and then hear a text come through. I glance down and Logan confirmed that Cooper can be here in ten minutes. I push my sweaty fly-aways under my cap and then snap a picture to send to Bellamy and Drew. It's only six-thirty in L.A, but Bellamy is usually already up and on her Peloton. I send the sweaty mess to them and add, humidity sucks with five frowny faces. Within seconds I get a message back. 

Bellamy: Pretend you are at hot yoga. 

Me: I hate hot yoga. 

Bellamy: Okay, then pretend you are at the Glen Ivy in the Grotto. Wrap a towel around you and enjoy. 

Me: Love your optimism, Bells. Also, someone named Cooper is about to pick me up. I'll send you his photo and my coordinates in a sec. 

Drew: If he's as hot as Carhartt and the lawyer, I am coming out there.