Pen and Paper, Chpt. 1

Moving is a real hassle. There’s the packing, loading everything into those beat-up U-Haul trucks, and trying to find your place in a new city. At 21, I was about to move in with my long-term boyfriend, Wyatt, and all I had was ten shirts, four pairs of pants, two pairs of shorts, one jacket, and four socks.

“Hey Indigo?” Wyatt’s voice cut through the stress. 

“Wy? What’s up?” I looked over to see him staring at me, clearly puzzled.

“What time were we supposed to meet with the landlord?” His question made my heart drop.

“At 2, Wyatt.” His face fell, and I could tell this was our first hiccup. I handed him more boxes to load into the truck. 

“Do you think this is a good idea?” I asked, the doubt evident in my voice. 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Do you think we should move in together?” I felt a knot of nerves tighten in my stomach. I couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he said softly, meeting my eyes. “We’ll be okay. Trust the process. It’s a new start, so let’s try to enjoy it.” His words were comforting, though they didn’t completely ease my worries.

The chilly San Francisco wind made me shiver, but in a way, it was comforting, reminding me of simpler times. My breath fogged up the window, and I absentmindedly drew an eye with my fingertip.

“So, what job did you get here?” Wyatt asked, poking me lightly. I tried to suppress a laugh.

“I got a part-time job at this cute bookshop,” I said. The store was indeed charming, with its rows of classic books and philosophical poetry. The pastel yellow wallpaper with magnolia flowers made the birchwood shelves and bright orange carpet feel alive. My favorite spots were the corners filled with classic tales and art guides.

I’ve been into art and literature since I first came across poetry 14 years ago.

"Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice,

But from what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire,

But if I had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice"

Robert Frost’s “Fire and Ice” has always resonated with me, representing the duality and peace I’ve cherished over the years.

“Indigo? Hello?” Wyatt’s voice jolted me back. I blinked and looked at him, confusion in my eyes.

“Sorry, I was lost in thought,” I said.

“Where did you go? We’ve been here for five minutes and you’ve just been staring,” he said.

“I’m not really sure,” I admitted.

He guided me into the apartment with my two medium boxes. Medium—such a perfect word for describing the events of my life. I was greeted by the sound of tiny footsteps—my cat, Pepper, with her orange tortoiseshell coat, who had been one of my few comforts. Stepping into Wyatt’s modern apartment, with its abstract beige vases and motivational quotes on the walls, I felt the weight of this new beginning. The place was a sea of grays and browns—white floor, gray walls, darker gray trim, gray and tan vases, beige rugs, and a black couch with gray and dark brown pillows. It was very IKEA-like. I planned to add my own touch to make it feel more like home.

After unpacking, I headed to the store in my beat-up '08 Ford Ranger, which was probably more of a hazard than a safety. At the department store, I walked through the seasonal aisle, surrounded by Halloween decorations. I’ve always loved Halloween, so I grabbed throw pillows, blankets, and little decorations.

I bumped into someone, lost in my thoughts. 

“I’m so sorry!” I said, mentally kicking myself for being distracted. 

“It’s alright, are you okay?” The voice was unexpectedly soothing, with a warm, sincere tone. I looked up to see a guy with golden blonde hair, a sharp jaw, and genuine hazel eyes, dressed in a green shirt, cream jacket, and cargo pants. 

“I’m fine, are you?” I asked.

“I’m good. What are you looking for?” he asked, unphased by the encounter.

“Just some decorations. I recently moved in with my boyfriend,” I said.

He smiled. “How long have you two been together?”

“It’ll be two years in January.” My cheeks flushed. Why was I sharing this with a stranger? 

“Maybe we can double date sometime. My girlfriend loves making new friends, and her roommate is always looking for excuses to get out of the apartment,” he suggested. 

“Sure, maybe,” I said, taking his Instagram handle, Lewis_Moreau53, and watching him wave goodbye. 

After checking out and struggling with my overloaded cart, I headed back to the apartment. I was excited to start decorating for fall. Once home, I carried my mountain of decorations inside and began transforming the space.

“Indigo? Are you home?” Wyatt called.

“Hey, Wy!” I responded.

“Where have you been?” He came around the corner, taking in the transformation.

"Indigo, what’s all this?” he asked, looking concerned. 

I didn’t understand why he was upset—he’d said I could decorate however I wanted. We’d talked about making the space our own. 

“It’s August, not Halloween yet,” he said, clearly frustrated. 

“I just thought I’d get a head start,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. 

“It’s an apartment, not a haunted house,” he snapped.

“Fine, I’ll stop,” I said, feeling a pang of disappointment. 

I finished decorating and grabbed some Coke and chips from the fridge—definitely not the healthiest choice, but I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. I settled onto the couch, debating between a drama, a comedy, or true crime. I decided on true crime, as it was my go-to for unwinding, despite Wyatt’s criticism. Coming from a sheltered background, he didn’t quite get my fascination with darker themes. 

As I watched, I thought about how this new chapter was both exciting and challenging. Even though Wyatt and I had our differences, I was determined to make this place feel like home.

As I sank into the couch, the hum of the true crime documentary was oddly soothing. I was engrossed in the grim stories unfolding on screen when I heard Wyatt’s footsteps approaching. He flopped down beside me with a sigh, his body language tense.

“Hey,” he started, avoiding eye contact. “I didn’t mean to be so hard on you earlier.”

I glanced over, trying to gauge his mood. “It’s fine,” I said, though the frustration still simmered. “I just wanted to make the place feel like home. I guess I got carried away.”

Wyatt shrugged, still not meeting my gaze. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t expect you to go all out with the decorations already. It just seems like a lot.”

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my tone even. “I know it’s a lot, but I really wanted to make this place ours. I thought we agreed on making it feel like home.”

Wyatt’s eyes flashed with frustration. “We did agree, but it’s only August. It feels like you’re rushing things. I thought we’d ease into it.”

“Well, I wasn’t trying to rush anything,” I said, my voice rising. “I just wanted to get a head start so we’d have time to enjoy it.”

“Enjoy it? It’s like you’re turning the place into a Halloween store,” Wyatt shot back. “I didn’t expect it to be this extreme.”

“That’s not fair,” I said, feeling my anger rise. “You knew I wanted to decorate. Why does it matter if I start early?”

“It’s not just about starting early,” Wyatt snapped. “It’s about feeling overwhelmed by how quickly everything’s changing. I need some time to adjust too.”

“And I need to feel like this is our home!” I said, feeling a surge of frustration. “I’m trying to make it comfortable, and all you’re doing is complaining.”

Wyatt’s face turned red, and he stood up abruptly. “I’m not complaining. I’m just saying it’s a lot to take in. Maybe you should have asked before going all out.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “Fine. I get it. Maybe I went overboard. But it’s not like I’m trying to make things difficult.”

Wyatt’s expression softened slightly, but the tension was still palpable. “Look, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just need a bit of space to adjust to everything.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation. “Let’s just drop it for now.”

We spent the rest of the evening in a strained silence. As we ate our takeout from a local Thai place, the conversation was polite but lacked the warmth it usually had. 

After dinner, I cleaned up while Wyatt retreated to the bedroom. I finished tidying up and sat on the couch, feeling the weight of the argument hanging over us. 

As I climbed into bed later, the apartment felt a bit more like home, but the earlier confrontation left a lingering sense of unease. I knew we had to navigate these growing pains, and while Wyatt wasn’t quick to admit he was wrong, I hoped we’d find a way to work through our differences.

I drifted off to sleep with a sense of cautious optimism, hoping that with time, Wyatt and I would find our balance and turn this new chapter into something meaningful.

The next morning, I woke up early, unable to shake the frustration from the night before. I carefully got out of bed, not wanting to disturb Wyatt, and headed to the kitchen. The apartment was still quiet, and the soft morning light made everything feel a bit more manageable.

I made coffee and decided to make pancakes. Cooking always helped me clear my mind, and I hoped it might set a better tone for the day.

Wyatt wandered into the kitchen, looking groggy but more relaxed than last night. “Morning,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“Morning,” I replied, trying to sound cheerful. “I made pancakes if you want some.”

He nodded, clearly appreciative. “Thanks. I could use a bite.”

We ate breakfast in a strained silence, the earlier argument hanging between us. Wyatt broke the quiet first. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

I hesitated for a moment. “I thought I’d just finish up with the decorations. Maybe put up a few things in the kitchen.”

Wyatt sighed and took a sip of his coffee. “Alright. I guess I’ll just hang out and see if I can’t get used to the new look.”

After breakfast, I went back to decorating. I set up a few more fall-themed items around the apartment, trying to make it feel cozy without going overboard. Wyatt watched from the couch, flipping through a magazine but not really focusing on it.

The silence between us was heavy, but neither of us brought up the argument again. As I placed a pumpkin candle on the kitchen counter, I noticed Wyatt’s gaze follow me.

“Do you think this place will ever feel like home?” he asked quietly.

I paused, considering his question. “I hope so. I really do. It just might take some time.”

Wyatt nodded, though he still looked unsure. “Yeah, I guess so.”

We spent the rest of the day in a sort of uneasy truce. The apartment was slowly starting to look more lived-in, but the argument from last night left a lingering tension. We did what we could to fill the day—Wyatt played some video games while I finished decorating and tidying up.

By the evening, we both seemed ready to put the day behind us. We grabbed some takeout for dinner, the kind of easy meal that didn’t require much conversation. We ate in the living room, surrounded by the new decorations that, while still not fully settled, were starting to make the space feel more like ours.

Wyatt glanced around and said, “You know, it’s not perfect, but it’s getting there.”

I smiled, though the tension still lingered. “Yeah, it’s starting to come together.”

As we finished dinner and cleaned up, the earlier argument felt like a distant memory, even if the underlying issues weren’t fully resolved. We headed to bed, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

As I lay there, the apartment felt like it was slowly becoming a home, despite the bumps along the way. It was a work in progress, and I knew it would take time. I just hoped that, as we continued to adjust, Wyatt and I could find a way to navigate our differences.