Destroy (A Standalone Romance Novel) (5 page)

Chapter
5

Mrs. Camborne, my new
landlady, was expecting me. She opened the front door of the apartment building
as soon as she saw me step out of the cab. She looked very pleased to see me
for some reason.

“So glad you’ve made it,”
she said as she held the elevator doors open for me. Although there were only
three floors to the building, a few of the older tenants appreciated the facility.
And so did
I
, at the time. Lugging two heavy suitcases
up three flights of stairs was not part of my exercise routine, unless, of
course, I was looking forward to pulling a ligament in my shoulders or doing
damage to my spine.

“Yes, Mrs. Camborne, I
made it as you said. It’s been nothing short of an exciting ordeal, if I may
describe it that way.”

Smiling and nodding, she
said, “Well, you’re here now and I have a surprise for you.”

That announcement had me
worried. Did she change the appliances in the kitchen; decide to make huge
repairs in the bathroom or perhaps renovate the whole place? “You know,” I
said, smiling demurely, “I didn’t expect anything…”

“I know, I know, dear,
but a young lady like you, moving to D.C. for a new job and all that, needs a
bit of looking after.”

“Well, thank you,” I
said, getting my bags out of the elevator while Mrs. Camborne held the doors open
for me again.

As we stood in front of
the apartment door, my landlady rushed to open it and affixed a big grin on her
face as she let me step inside of my new residence. I couldn’t have been more
pleased. There, right in front of me, in the living room, were a couch, a
coffee table, a chair and a side table with a very nice lamp on it.

I turned to her and
couldn’t resist giving Mrs. Camborne a big hug.

“Thank you, thank you. But
how did you know?” I asked, releasing her from my embrace. “I never said
anything about furniture.”

“Call it mother’s
instinct if you like. But when I talked to the movers before they came up to
drop off your boxes, they said there was no furniture, so I knew you would need
some.”

“All I can say, Mrs.
Camborne, is thank you.” I turned toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “All
I’ll need is to buy myself a bed and I’ll be…” I stopped talking and literally dropped
my suitcases in the doorway of what was to become my room. “Now you’ve done it,
haven’t you, Mrs. Camborne? That’s a beautiful bed.” I turned to the lady. She
was smiling from ear to ear. “I will buy it from you, of course.”

“Don’t you talk nonsense
now, dear
girl.
I don’t want to hear a peep out of you
about paying for the furniture. Just look after them, that’s all I ask.”

“You know I will, Mrs. Camborne.”
I grabbed my cases and put them down in front of the closet doors.

“Okay, I think you’ve got
everything you might need for now. So, I’ll leave you for a bit, and if you
think of anything else, just give me a call, alright?”

“I will, you can be sure,”
I replied as I escorted her to the door of the apartment. “And thanks again for
being so thoughtful.”

“As I said, just look
after the place; that’s all I expect.”

When I closed the door on
her, I felt warm and fuzzy inside. Mrs. Camborne was definitely a nice lady.

As soon as my cases were
empty, I went to sit on the couch and took stock of my new situation. I had
rented a very pleasant place; the landlady was certainly a gem; I wouldn’t need
to buy furniture for a while; but I needed to get kitchen utensils, pots and
pans, cutlery, dishes, and everything else one needs on a daily basis.

Since the weekend was
right around the corner, I thought I would first locate a supermarket, a
department store where I could get all my kitchen dishes and stuff, and a farmer’s
market where I could get my veggies, fish, poultry, cheese, and fruit. I made a
list. I hadn’t made a list for anything in ages. I felt very domesticated
somehow. After I had gone through every room in the place to make sure my list
wasn’t missing anything, I looked up the nearest mall and stores on the
internet. There was one, ten minutes from my place. On my way there, I passed
by a park and playground, which was probably going to be my jogging and
exercise spot in the morning, and a number of streets lined with all well-maintained
houses and yards. I definitely made the right choice. This neighborhood was
very pleasant indeed.
 

When I asked one of the
ladies at the housewares counter if she knew of a farmer’s market close-by, she
said that I would find all the fresh veggies, dairy products, and that sort of
thing at the organic department of the supermarket. She explained that it was a
kind of an indoor farmers’ market. “Better than the seasonal ones,” she added.
“At least you can find all your farm produce year-round.”

I had to agree. It was
sometimes a chore for Allie and me to go traipsing about the countryside over a
weekend to find open-range eggs or poultry.

A couple of hours later,
I had my arms full of grocery bags when I stepped out of the supermarket. All
of the other purchases were to be delivered either that afternoon or the next
morning. I took a cab to get home and soon got all of the grocery stored in the
fridge and pantry.

I felt very pleased with
having accomplished so much in such a short time. After pouring myself a glass
of the red wine I had just purchased, I went to sit on my new couch. I knew my
TV was in one of the boxes the movers had put in the second bedroom, but I
truly didn’t have the courage to start unpacking just then. Maybe later that
evening.

As I was ready to start
cooking some fish and snow peas with nugget potatoes for dinner, my cell phone
vibrated on the coffee table. My mom was on the line. I had to smile. There
wasn’t going to be a day without hearing from her, I was sure. This time she
wasn’t worried about the New York winters; she was wondering if I was sure
there wouldn’t be any terrorists lurking in my neighborhood.

“You know, Heather,
they’re everywhere. Especially in Washington. You can’t know what to expect in
such a city. You’ll need some protection.”

“Mom!” I erupted over the
line. “Settle down, will you? I’ve not moved to the Middle East. This is
Washington, D.C. we’re talking about. Besides, you’ve seen the pictures of the
apartment I’ve rented. It’s a very nice place. And the landlady bought
furniture for the living room and the bedroom.”

“Did she really?” Mom
sounded incredulous. “But now you’ll have to expect that she’ll raise your rent
at the first opportunity.”

“Come on, Mom, I thought
you’d be happy to hear that my landlady is a very thoughtful woman…”

“Yes, yes, dear, if you
say so. I just hope you’re right, that’s all.”

“And since I didn’t have
to buy furniture, I bought myself a couple of small appliances. I got a
toaster, a grill, and a new crock-pot.”

“Well, it sounds like
you’re settling down nicely after all.” She paused. “What about a roommate? You
mentioned that you will need to get one to share in the expenses. Are you still
intending to do that?”

“Absolutely. I haven’t
had a chance to put an ad anywhere or see if there was someone searching for a
place in the paper. But I’ll have a look at the bulletin board at the hospital
first before I advertise anywhere else.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to
put an ad in the local rag anyway?” Mom asked.

“Not really. See, Mom,
the people who work at the hospital know our schedule is never set in stone and
they’ll only expect to find a clean room to sleep in and a nice person to talk
to when we find ourselves together for a few hours.”

“I guess you’re right.
But until you find someone suitable, I’ll be worried that your apartment may be
ransacked when you’re at work.”

“Mom, please stop
worrying. People around here seem very nice and I think, in time, I will like
it here.”

“Okay, dear. Just let me
know if you need me to send you anything, okay?”

I raised my gaze to the
ceiling. “Sure, Mom,” I replied. “But don’t worry about a thing. Everything
will be just fine.” I had no idea what my mother had in mind. I didn’t know how
to convince her that I wasn’t living among people belonging to a terrorist
cell; that the apartment was as comfortable as one could expect; and that I had
everything I needed – and then some.

That evening, I finally
mustered enough courage to open and empty a few boxes. I got the TV out of its
protective Styrofoam and box, and installed it. Since the building was on an
optical cable network, I had the local channels and many others already on line
as soon as I turned it on. Nevertheless, I needed to subscribe to the cable
company to get my DVR and the Wi-Fi set-up. But I was on my way to being
electronically connected to the world again.

Next, I hooked up the
stereo and amps. It worked like a charm. I inserted the flash drive with all my
recorded music into the USB port and turned the volume up a little. I returned
to the couch to admire the result of my efforts. The only thing missing was a bracket
on the wall for the TV and a stereo table for the sound system. I also brought
my old and trusty turntable with me. There was still some music, like jazz and
some classics, which I liked to listen to on LP records. I’ve heard that many
music lovers feel the same as I do; an LP is worth all the CD productions you
can buy. For some reason, the sound feels much more intimate and cozy–like an
old friend playing a tune on the family piano.

Satisfied with my
progress and since nearly half of the boxes were already empty, I decided to
call it a day. It had been a long one. I took a leisurely, relaxing bubble bath
in the old-fashioned bathroom and enjoyed every minute of it. That apartment
was definitely the perfect choice. I just hoped my first day at the hospital
would be as pleasant as this first day in D.C. had been.

However, the weekend was
still young and I had to go on a discovery of the park and playground that I
had seen that afternoon. While I lay in bed–as comfortable as a gorgeous white
cloud–I thought about Allie and what her first day in Chicago would have been
like. I didn’t want to phone her that night. It was far too late. She was probably
asleep already. Then I thought of Robin. He was due to fly out tomorrow to L.A.
Sweet Robin. I’ll have to text him in the
morning before I go for a jog,
I thought
.
Then my thoughts suddenly turned to Jeff. Eight months had gone by since
that famous night together.
He was such a
hunk of a man,
was my last thought before I fell in the arms of Orpheus.

The morning was a
gorgeous one. I opened my eyes and it took a fraction of a second for me to
remember where I was. This was
my
new
bedroom, in
my
new place. I was Dr.
Heather Williams. I still couldn’t readily believe it. Yet, here I was, in
Washington, D.C. looking at starting my internship in two days’ time. I sat up,
slipped into my bathrobe, and went to the kitchen. The entire apartment was
bathing in the morning sun. I turned the coffee machine on and went to get into
my jogging suit after splashing some water on my face. I grabbed a bottle of
water out of the fridge on my way out and ran down the stairs.

Since it was only 7:00 am
on Saturday morning, the building seemed to drown in an eerie silence. Outside,
the morning
due
covered every inch of the front yard
and hedges. I did a few stretches on the sidewalk before starting toward the
park at a trotting pace. Same as in New York, the summer humidity can really
take a toll on you very quickly. You need to pace yourself and not impose too
much on your heart in the first few minutes. Once I reached the park, I chose
one of the trails that seemed to encircle it. I increased the speed and began
jogging at a good pace. Looking at my watch, I noticed that circling the park
had taken me about fifteen minutes. So, four rounds would do me for an hour’s
jog in the morning. However, on that morning, I decided to limit my effort to
two laps.

As I entered my apartment,
the aroma of fresh brewed coffee teased my nostrils. That’s all I needed to
remind me that I was hungry. After a long shower and washing my hair, I headed
for the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

Unexpectedly, there was a
knock at the door. It was only eight-thirty. I looked through the peephole.
Mrs. Camborne was standing on the other side of the door smiling at me.

“I thought you might like
some of my most famous bran muffins for breakfast,” she said, as I opened the
door to her, handing me a baking tray with a half dozen freshly baked muffins.
I didn’t know what to say.

Mrs.
Camborne was going to be worse than my mother
, I thought, but
said nothing other than, “Thank you, Mrs. Camborne. You are really spoiling me
this time.”

“Yes, yes, I know I am,
but that’s because I want you to be happy here.” She smiled and turned to the
door. “Well, don’t let me keep you. I’ll probably be talking to you later.” She
opened the door and walked out before I had time to say anything else.

I shook my head as I
closed it behind her, blurting, “Have a great day, ma’am.”