That’s who I’m going to be living with. Someone I’ve never met or truly even heard of. She’s my great aunt on my mother’s side. Before I go any further, I guess I should explain my situation. After my mother disappeared and my father died, I was put under the custody of my grandmother on my father’s side. She recently passed so there was the whole custody issue. I honestly believed that I would move in with my mother’s sister and her husband, since my grandmother on my mother’s side is in an assisted living home and both of my grandfathers are dead. However my aunt, Lisa, recently had twins, hence her husband said that they would not be a sufficient home for me.
So, my custody was given to my only other living relative, my mom’s aunt. Gertrude, I never met her. Not when my mom was still alive or at her funeral, after she was presumed to be dead. Apparently she claims that she was incredibly close to my mom, my mom spending most of her summers with her until she was sixteen. I guess my mom wouldn’t have brought it up in the eight years she was around. Now instead of staying in New York like I would like, I’m moving to Las Vegas. No, not the city known for its non stop partying. It's a town in New Mexico, approximately 100 miles from the Colorado border. It has a population of 13k, so definitely not big enough to be considered a city but not small enough to not have a walmart. Not only that but Gertrude lives out on the outskirts of the town. I hope that is not as bad as I think it’ll be.
“So where are you from?” The young women, with curly blonde hair and piercing amber eyes sitting next to me, asks. Drawing my attention away from the black leather-bound notebook I was writing in. “
New york.” I say simply noticing how she was positioning herself in a position that showed off her… assets.
Clearing my throat and making a point to look her in the eye, I shoot her question back at her, “What about you?”
“Oh, I’m from Albuquerque. SO where are you visiting?” She says tilting her head, her eyes filled with obvious intent.
“Las Vegas.” I state simply. She seems disappointed at my answer, then confused. You can almost see the wheels turning in her head. I turn myself away from her, hoping she takes the hint. She doesn’t.
“This is the wrong state for that. Are you sure you’re on the right flight?” Her voice is really starting to get on my nerves. It’s the same voice that all the girls who flirt with me use, even after they get close to no response from me.
I bend over and pull out my bag from under the seat in front of me. I don't care if I seem rude. I start digging through it in search of my earbud, it doesn’t help that it is a disorganized mess of books and art supplies. I finally found them. They are covered with red and black music notes, they were a gift from one of my best friends in New York. She doesn’t quite understand what is considered a good gift, but I like them anyways. Plugging them into my phone and starting my playlist, I look out the window; grateful that I have the window seat. Staring at the sea of white clouds, I think about what it’ll be like in New Mexico. Afterall it is quite a difference from New York. Living in Brooklyn for almost all of my life, I’m used to busy streets, constant traffic and a broad cultural outview. I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping in the city that never sleeps. It’s going to be an adjustment to sleeping in the country, well technical country. Gertrude does live 50 minutes outside of town.
The intercom snatches my attention back but only for a second since my music drowned out the sound. I go back to staring out the window, dreading the 7 hour flight ahead of me.