Authors: Heidi Medina
Made to Love
Thank you first to God for giving me the gift of writing,
without him I am nothing.
Thank you to my family and friends who have supported me
over the many years, always pushing me to “finish the book already!”
A huge THANK YOU to my editor, without her this book may
have never come to see the light of day!
To my Husband- you are my life- my best friend-lover and
the best father to our boys that I could ask for.
To Jax and Jacob- mommy did it…. Finally!
Table of Contents
Reagan
I admit that my impulse to move from Austin,
Texas to New York was risky, since I had not ever been out of the state of
Texas in all of my twenty-five years of life. I had just graduated college
with a degree in graphic design and business, and was—as far as I knew-- the
first out of four in my family to graduate high school, let alone college. To
say I was proud of myself was an understatement. With my newly found pride,
and encouragement from my college advisor, I made the decision that New York
would now be my home.
“You can get a great job right here in
Austin,” my mom, Helen, had argued. I’d been with her for most of my life, and
was the only child she had. Her difficulty with my leaving was forgivable.
I sat in the kitchen watching the rain
drizzle down the window, as she swept the floor, visibly upset and not making
eye contact with me. I knew telling her of my plans would not be an easy
thing, and as much as I was excited about this next chapter in my life, I also
hated the thought of leaving the only stability I had known since the age of
thirteen. “I know there are jobs here, but not the jobs that will help me get
where I want to be. I have goals; you know this.” I told her.
Helen finished with the broom and returned it
to the hall closet and came back to sit across from me. “Reagan, your dreams
have always been my dreams. I’m so proud of you and how far you have come, but
the fact is, you have been in Austin your entire life. You have no one in New
York. I’m worried about you for obvious reasons, such as where will you even
live? ” Helen paused, and her voice softened. “And for the less obvious ones,
too.”
She was right, of course. Blood or not, she
was the only family I had. I didn’t know anyone in New York; I barely knew
many here in Austin, despite having spent all of my life here. I was not what
one would call a social butterfly. And yes. There were the other less obvious
reasons that I refused to think about. I couldn’t let them sway my choice. “I’ve
been talking with Jen,” I replied, choosing to respond to the easiest point she
had made. “She has a cousin in the city that is looking for a roommate. I’ve
been talking with her for the past week and I think it’s going to work out.” I
tried to sound confident in my answer, as if moving thousands of miles away to
live with my college advisor’s cousin was no big deal, but I too was nervous.
Helen sighed, showing me that she had given
up trying to change my mind. “Well, I guess I need to help you pack and get a
U-Haul. I’ll call and get some time off work,” she said.
“Really?”
“I’m certainly not going to let you move to
another state and not be there to make sure you are settled in okay,” Helen
exclaimed. I smiled widely at her, blinking away sudden tears. Helen had been
my saving grace, and I didn’t know if I would make it without her.
Three weeks later I stood with Helen in front
of an apartment building, nervous and excited, waiting for Brooke Wade, the
roommate I was about to meet for the first time. Helen had checked into a
nearby hotel, where she planned to stay until Sunday before starting the drive
back home. The reality of not seeing her every day was beginning to take hold,
but I had no time to dwell because at that moment, a girl in yoga pants and a
tank top met us at the door to let us in.
“Reagan Andrews, it’s so nice to finally meet
you,” She beamed and pulled me into a hug. I glanced at Helen, who stepped
forward as if to intervene. Fortunately, the constriction was minimal and over
very quickly. My arms hung awkwardly at my sides until she stepped away,
either oblivious to my discomfort or choosing not to mention it. She was
short, at least a foot shorter than me, and had a head full of curly black
hair.
“Hi Brooke, it’s nice to meet you, too. This
is Helen, my mom.”
Introductions over, Brooke gestured back into
the building foyer. “Come on in, I’ll show you around, and then I’ll get Paul
and Gabby to help with all your stuff. They are our neighbors. They just got
married last fall. Gabby runs a coffee house that serves a caramel macchiato
that puts Starbucks to shame. You will love them,” Brooke explained as I
followed her up the stairs into my new home, trying to keep up with the steady
barrage of information coming from my new roommate. Chatty Cathy was definitely
not something I was used to. The apartment was spacious with two bedrooms and
a huge bathroom with a tub and shower. There were hardwood floors throughout,
and a large bay window that overlooked the city.
“Wow,” I breathed softly, at a total loss for
words. The infamous New York skyline I had until now only seen in pictures,
was something else entirely while viewing it from up here. It was perfect.
The entire apartment was perfect. I had thought Helen’s modest home in Austin
had been nothing short of a mansion, considering where I’d spent my early years,
but this was New York. And it was me, living on my own, thousands of miles
from the only family I had. It was both exciting and scary at the same time.
But I was more than ready for this, regardless of how much part of me wanted to
jump back in the U-Haul and beg Helen to take me home. I wanted to, needed to,
do this.
Brooke offered us a drink, and then we went
out to start unloading the truck. Gabby and Paul met us outside, and Brooke
was right. I liked them instantly. They appeared to be in their mid-thirties
and immediately made me feel at ease.
Four long hours later, the truck was empty
and I was exhausted. I still had to unpack, but my bed was set up and I
planned on crashing in it as soon as I could clear a path. Gabby and Paul told
me goodbye and made me promise to come to dinner with Brooke on Sunday night.
Brooke got a phone call and I walked Helen back down to the U-Haul.
“I’ll be by in the morning to help you
unpack,” she said.
“Thank you, for everything,” I replied. I
had fought the threat of tears all day, but standing in front of Helen, the
realness of my decision made me very emotional.
Helen felt it too as she quickly wiped away
her tears. “Now go on and get to bed. Don’t stay up too late; you got a big
day tomorrow,” she instructed.
I nodded and turned to go. “Hey Reagan,” she
called. I turned back and caught her smile. “You did real well, honey. It’s
nice here, and I’m proud of you.” Helen’s voice caught, and she turned quickly
and left. I wiped a few stray tears and headed back up to my apartment.
“I ordered pizza—please tell me you like
mushrooms--and I took the liberty of pouring you a glass of wine,” Brooke
announced as I entered the kitchen. She raised her wine glass and winked. “To
a new start, to being amazing roommates, and to living in the best city in the
world.”
I picked up my wine glass, touched hers and
took a drink. “Thank you,” I smiled. “And mushrooms are fine.”
“You’re welcome. Now come, relax. We will
eat and drink and then go to bed. I know you must be beat.” Brooke said.
“I am. It’s been a long two days, but Helen
was determined to make it here by Friday.” I sat my glass down and made myself
comfortable on the couch.
“You made good time, and I’m glad you’re
here. In all honesty, I think this move is going to be a great experience for
you.” Brooke grinned at me. Something in her smile made me believe it. I
clamped down the annoying trace of anxiety that refused to leave the pit of my
stomach and stared out the window as Brooke went down to meet the delivery
guy. It’s going to be okay, I repeated to myself. People do this kind of
thing all the time. It’s going to be okay.
After eating and hearing about all the “cool
stuff” Brooke wanted to show me, I finally went to my room and cleared off my
bed so I could sleep. I was too tired to even shower, knowing I needed to
after moving all day. I smiled thinking of Helen, and how appalled she would
be. First night without her and I was already going wild. I lay in my bed and
before I could even fully digest everything that happened in the past
forty-eight, I was asleep.
The next morning, I surprised myself by
waking early. I felt well rested from the night before, but had hoped I would
have slept later than six am. Brooke wasn’t around when I ventured down the
hall to the bathroom to take a much needed shower. She had probably been lucky
enough to sleep in. After scouring myself head to toe, I pulled on my bathrobe
and headed into the kitchen in search of caffeine. Brooke had told me during
our tour last night to help myself to anything I wanted, and I took her up on
that as I popped a K-cup into the machine. I knew Helen was an early riser and
was probably waiting on my phone call to come over. I took my coffee and
wandered to the bay window, staring out at the New York skyline. I sighed.
It truly was amazing; my eyes could barely take it all in. From the marquee
signs, to the endless stretch of brake lights and the vast pool of New Yorkers
out and starting their day, it was a blur of activity. I couldn’t wait to join
that activity, explore new places, and perhaps a new me.
I turned as I heard Brooke’s bedroom door
open. She yawned and stumbled over to the Keurig and popped another cup in.
“Hey,” she mumbled. “You’re up early. A result of the excitement of being
here, or is this normal?” She grabbed her cup and joined me in the living
room. Several wayward curls fell into her eyes and she tucked them behind her
ear.
“I was so tired last night, I’m surprised I’m
up, too but I have a lot of unpacking to do. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” I sat
beside her on the couch.
Brooke waved off the question and smiled,
“No, I’m always up this early on Saturdays. I teach a yoga class. When you get
settled, you’ll have to come.”
The thought of taking on an extracurricular
was daunting, but I promised Brooke I would anyway. No need to be a total
stick in the mud. “Monday I’m going to hit the streets. My first order of
business is to find a job,” I said, as I took my empty cup to the sink.
“You will take it easy for a few days, get
yourself unpacked and settled, and then we’ll see. Don’t feel like you have to
rush out and secure your half of the rent. You’re in the city of great
opportunities; your perfect job will come.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that . . . all of it.
For letting me move in; just, all of it.” I said, struggling to give voice to
my feelings.
She took pity and gave me a sympathetic
smile. “You are very welcome, for all of it! I’m excited! It’s going to be a
lot of fun. Now, I have to go take a shower. If you need anything at all,
call my cell. I have a few errands to run after class, so I’ll be home this
afternoon.”
Brooke left to get ready and I headed back to
my room to get dressed. I pulled on jean cut offs and a black tank, and pulled
my dark brown hair into a sloppy bun, silently cursing the hair gods that had
seen fit to grace Brooke with piles of thick curly hair while leaving me with
the stick straight leftovers. Helen always said it was too heavy to hold a
curl, and it probably was, but I knew stick straight when I saw it. Thinking
of Helen, I called and let her know it was okay to come over. As I expected,
she had been up for well over an hour and had been waiting for my call, much as
she tried to pretend otherwise.
I began to unpack, opening a box of framed
pictures I had always kept on my bedroom dresser back home. I pulled out an
old favorite of me and Helen from when I had just passed my driver’s training
test and smiled. I started to place it on my dresser, but hesitated. Turning
the frame over, I pulled off the back and pulled out the picture that was
hidden behind. I sat on the floor next to my bed and stared at my three year
old self, and the woman next to me. My thoughts swirled as I fixated on the
woman with her dark skin and long, jet black hair pulled into a braid,
indicative of her Native American blood. She stared into the camera with a big
smile, her even bigger brown eyes full of laughter and happiness. And at the
tender age of three, I had not yet learned that happiness was all in one’s
perception, and that my biological mother’s happiness was a facade. This
picture and one dress were all that remained, other than my memories, of the
first thirteen years of my life. I was saved from further travels down memory
lane by the front door buzzer, announcing the arrival of Helen. I hastily
stuffed the picture back into its hiding place and went to let her in.
We finished unpacking, and then went to lunch
at a nearby deli. Knowing she’d never been and that she’d be leaving tomorrow,
I relented when Helen insisted we find our way to Central Park for a short
walk.
“How are you feeling about things,” Helen
asked as she lit a cigarette. It was a habit she had tried to fight for years,
but when she was worried or stressed, the habit usually won.
“I’m good. I feel ready to start a new life
here, but I’m nervous too,” I admitted, as we paused to let a group of joggers
pass us by.
“Well, that makes two of us,” Helen blew out
smoke and laughed softly.
“Helen, I need to tell you that I’m going to
be okay. I don’t know how to best explain it, but I just feel it’s going to be
okay. No setbacks, no anxiety. I need this, and I know I’m not the best about
telling you how I feel, but I’m so grateful for you. For your support, and for
putting up with my incredibly huge amounts of crap for years,” I blurted out,
attempting to make a joke and ease up the seriousness of my words. I was not a
big mushy “I-love-you-let’s-talk-about-our-feelings” kind of person, and Helen
and I had always tiptoed around the emotional aspects of our relationship for
that reason. I knew she loved me, and I certainly loved her and we left it at
that. But learning to open up and express what I was feeling was a lesson I
was trying to learn and so I went for it. “Thank you for never giving up on
me.”