I open my locket and see my baby girl's sonogram in the small pendant, not a day goes by when I don’t miss you, I will work hard every day for you baby. I ring the bus signal for the bus to stop. I grab my guitar case and my small possessions. Mostly clothes, a small pillow, a warm quilt, money, and some foodstuff. I get off and am hit with a large hot puff of air. This is what the south air feels like, humid, and hot. This starts my new life, my boots hit the pavement, and the GPS on my cellphone tells me where the housing I have paid for will be at. Not far off the main street, I notice a small Indian restaurant that also has groceries. I take a mental note as I will be stopping in for dinner later tonight. I called the housing place, it was supposed to be a furnished place with a shared kitchen, private bath, and my own patio. I need the gate code to get into the house. I thanked my luck that the number connected and they would be downstairs to let me in. I see the house, it is tall, three stories, with huge dogs in the front, and a large black car in the front dirt road parked crookedly. It catches my eye because it’s my favorite style, Jeep. 

The nice owner of the home comes out to meet me. She is short, older, and has dyed purple hair. Her white hair roots peaking through. She waves hello to me and shakes my hand. “I’m Teresa, sorry about the clammy hands, just gotta get used to the weather out here I suppose”, she says while wiping them on her paint-plastered jeans overalls. She guides me towards the house and says, “This is a home for artists, we all have our own story and we spell it out with our art. We have weekly meals together and we have a rotation of chores around the house.” We walk into the front door and she turns to me and says, “Now, I don’t know much about you but I hope that we can all get along and that means paying your rent on time.” I smile in response, “No problem, and thank you for letting me rent here.” She opens the heavy wooden door and the air-conditioned air hits me as I step in. I remove my shoes and put my bags down. I don’t have home slippers but I will buy some later. I let her show me the upstairs room I will be renting. She points me to the shared rooms like the kitchen and tv room. We arrive at my room, it is simple, with carpet, a bed, a bathroom with a shower, and a small patio. Just enough to put a lounge chair and tan up here. I love it, the white thin drapes on the windows lighten the room but I know I will want it dark. Teresa leaves me in my room. I walk downstairs and get the rest of my things. I sit on my bed laughing and praying, 'Thank you for giving me this chance.' I packed very lightly, I felt tired from the travels and I remember the Indian store a few blocks away. I grab my keys, lock my room door, and walk out the front wooden door. I take a brisk walk as the sun is setting, the heat reducing just slightly from earlier today. I arrive at the Indian restaurant and the smell of spices welcomes me as I place an order of food to go. The tables are red soft booths and very comfortable. I sit down and fiddle with a napkin in my hand. My food order is ready and I take my leave. The dust from outside hits me with the heat and I hurry back to my shared home. I walk upstairs to my room and quickly unlock the door. I eat my order of Paneer Tikka Masala with naan and Jasmine rice. I start to hum and want to write a few new notes for some music I am composing. I look for my guitar and am welcomed by its consistent feel and look. I pat my head on my guitar and I pray. ‘Thank you for the safe travels God. The food was delicious and I look forward to a new life here. Amen.’ I clean up my room and brush my teeth. I put on a large t-shirt and underwear. I flop on my bed next to my guitar and begin writing down music in my book. This lullaby keeps ringing in my head so I decide to go with it. It could have been a lullaby for my baby if she was still here on earth with me. Nighttime falls and I am tired of composing. I play my guitar and practice for my set at work. I look to see if I have any leftover Indian food and I do. I walk downstairs to reheat it and decide to eat downstairs. 

I meet some of my roommates. He is tall, with brown tousled hair, and electrifying eyes. He smiles at me and says his name is Edwin. He asks if I am the new roomie. I nod yes and walk over to the kitchen. Self-conscious that I am in a t-shirt and underwear ready for sleep. I go to the microwave and see someone is using it. Edwin runs up behind me and says, “Oh, that’s mine. Here you can use it now.” He takes out his tupper-wear and lets me use it. I smelled his scent and cologne as he was behind me moving his food out of the microwave. I nod and say, “Thank you.” I don’t know why I am flustered, it must be his eyes. My food is heated in thirty seconds and I lock eyes with Edwin again. I smile and say, “Hi, I am Nitzy, I just moved in today.” I put my hand out to shake his, Edwin smiles at me with his dimpled cheek and grabs my hand. Electricity pulses through me as he says, “Nice to meet you, Nitzy. That sounds like a faerie name. It matches you.” I let go of his hand and sit down at the wooden table. Edwin grabs a seat and sits right next to me. I am quickly focused on the task at hand and try to eat my leftovers. Edwin is incredibly hot and his tight shirt reveals his muscles underneath it. I finish my food and throw out the plastic container it came in. I say my goodbyes to my new roommate and head upstairs to my room. My heart is beating and it has been a long time since I have been attracted to someone. 

I rush into bed and dream of my past lover, Liam. I try not to cry as I sleep because of the pain I feel. The embarrassment of him leaving me and dating someone on the same day I gave birth to our stillborn daughter. The pain shattered me and I woke up sobbing. I look at my guitar and see the time on my phone. 2 a.m. It is too early to play music so I just write down how I feel. Time flies and it is now 4:30 am. The sun was rising so I decided to put on a sports bra and yoga pants. My body is still shaping up from giving birth but I love myself regardless of the scars. My cute jogging outfit was wet with sweat when I returned at 6 a.m. to the shared house. Edwin was opening his Jeep car and waved good morning to me. I waved back and passed him heading up to the front door. I opened the front door, luckily it wasn’t locked so I didn’t need to fumble with my keys. Edwin starts his car and yells out, “Hey, want me to grab you a coffee? On me.” I turn around holding the door jar open and I see him smiling at me. I give him a thumbs up and say, “Sure, let me send you some money, no need to pay for me.” He accepts the payment via phone transfer and I give him my coffee order, a chai latte with almond milk and a cheese danish. He leaves in his car and texts me a cute happy face emoji saying he will be back soon and not to miss him too much. I laugh and run up to my bathroom to change and shower out of my clothes. When I am freshened up, I go downstairs and meet Edwin, he is sitting with his back to me talking to another male in the room. I look around for my drink and bread. My breakfast is on the coffee table. I grab a seat and say hi to the person Edwin is talking to. He looks at me and raises his eyebrows, I smile and wave, take the first jump and introduce myself. “Hi, I am Nitzy. You are?” I take my right hand and offer him a handshake. He looks at me again and sighs, “Hi, I’m Brian.” His limp hand goes to meet my hand in a dead fish handshake. I fake a smile and look to grab my things. His clammy hands rubbing against mine was enough contact for the day. I say my goodbyes and head up to my room where I eat my danish and start playing on my guitar. I remind myself that I only have a few days left until I start working at the cafe with Salvatore and I need to get in the rhythm of playing for four hours. 

I sit cross-legged and grab my guitar, this guitar is old but reliable. I strum and feel the chords, notes, and music pulse through my body. Through my fingertips, stomach, and down out through my breath. I begin my practice and don’t stop playing until I hear a knock on my door. I put my guitar down and welcome the break on my body, I open the door and see it is my landlady, Teresa. She smiles and asks how I am doing. “I am well, thank you. Your home is very lovely. Would you like to come in?” I open the door and offer a seat on the bed. She nods no and just says that she heard me playing and that it sounded very lovely. “If you have time come downstairs and play in the living room. The percussion sounds are better there.” I smile and thank her but let her know for now I am okay playing in this room. She leaves and I watch her leave.

A few days pass and the start of my new gig begins. I wear boots, a comfortable skirt, tights, slicked-back hair, perfume, and my guitar bag with picks. I check myself out in the mirror and like the cyber pop girl look. Colorful, functional, and musical. I rush to catch the bus as I cannot afford to be late. I leave through the front door and start walking out the front gates. Edwin rushes to me and asks, “Do you need a ride?” I let him know I am fine and maybe a ride back if that is okay but I should be fine to get there. He nods and just hand signals to call him later. I smile and rush off to catch the bus. I wait at the bus stop and catch the bus. The a/c inside is welcoming compared to the hot summer day. I take a seat in the back of the bus and put in my ear pods. My playlist of classic reggae starts. My bus stop arrives, and I pull the bus signal to be let out. My boots hit the pavement, my guitar on my back, my arms and heart strong ready to conquer my first day in my new life. I walk into the cafe, the smell of brewed coffee, and toasted bread tickle my nose as I enter. I wave hello to Salvatore. He is busy making coffee but nods hello at me. I begin walking to the stage and set up my mic.