Chapter Two

With the first step over the threshold, you could feel the cool air of the house, it was an odd feeling a home colder than the air outside. But it felt nice considering I had been sweating and stuffy for hours on end.

“Have a nose around, mi casa es su casa” he said his hands going to his hips.

I didn’t reply just grazed my eyes around me, the décor was modern not what I was expecting from a cowboy town. Dark oak floors and crisp white walls, a large mirror hung upon the wall to the right of the hall way. It was definitely not what I had expected the home of a thirty odd year-old single man would look like.  

“How old are you?” I asked earning a raised brow and a soft chuckle.

“Twenty-nine” he corrected my thoughts.

“Huh, nice digs” I complemented as I peeked around the door that I now knew lead to a living room, or sitting room I believe the Americans call it. I honestly don’t think I could keep up with the change I sure as hell don’t fancy changing my English, hell I don’t think my brain would have the ability to make such small yet big adjustments.

“Come I’ll show you your room” he hooked my duffel bag over his shoulder before lifting my large suitcase. Everything I now owned was in that man’s hands, my entire life cramped into to something small enough to be carried by an average sized man. Ok well Uncle Jesse wasn’t average sized he was a little bulky he was definitely a gym head or maybe just a hard worker but either or it still sucked like really fucking sucked that everything I now owned was capable of being carried with two hands, I was starting again from scratch, and I absolutely fucking hated that fact.

I followed him up the stairs willing myself to not work myself up on the fact I was ripped from my life and thrown into this strange new reality because there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t change the fact I was now an orphan; my mum had died and the British social services were quick to throw me on a flight and send me off to an uncle I hadn’t seen in what? Five or so years.

“Right, this is you” he released a breath placing my luggage to the left of the door.

The floor was covered in a grey wood flooring, Navy blue walls with the crisp white border, a large bedframe built and placed against the back wall and mustard coloured bed sheets tucked neatly into the mattress.

“You can change it to how you like, I can repaint the walls and” he began

“it’s nice, thank you” I smiled hoping to ease the tension he seemed to be feeling in this moment.

This must be strange for him just like it was for me. whereas I was forced out of my home, he had been forced to share his space with a teenager.

“It was my home gym before ...well you know, hence the male themed walls” he scratched the stubble of his beard. He wanted nothing more than a gate way out of this awkwardness.

“I like the colour its different” I smiled; I was being honest the room was nice compared to how I had pictured in my head since the social worker told me Id be catching a flight out here.

“You do? Cool” he chuckled “oh and I ordered a rug too I just need to collect it; we can collect it from town tomorrow when I show you around. It’s a grey rug I wasn’t sure your style, but we can always change it to whatever colour you would like. I could change anything in the room you name it” he added glancing around the room.

“Relax uncle Jesse” I laughed; I couldn’t help it; it was so obvious that the poor guy was way out of his comfort zone. He didn’t have kids and it was clear he was feeling way out of his depths with the sudden guardianship of a teenage girl. I mean who could blame him for feeling like that? His dead brother’s daughter was left an orphan with only one capable family member to care for her, that person being him.

“I’m too much aren’t I?” he chuckled a relaxed smile forming across his lips.

“No, but I’m almost eighteen you don’t need to worry so much” I said hoping the statement would ease him somehow.

“Right eighteen gotcha” he furrowed his brows probably comparing how the British deem their young ones as adults at eighteen and Americans at age twenty-one.

“Well, I will leave you too it. I’m going to pick up takeout from the diner while you unpack. Text me what you want to eat” he said backing out the door, if I didn’t know any different, he was running from the room, or more specifically me, it was comical. Don’t mistake, my uncle was a really nice guy, although we weren’t close, I still remember all his visits. He was the fun uncle; you know the one who would feed you desserts for breakfast and tell you ‘Shh’ don’t tell your parents. The one who would carry you on his shoulders when you were a toddler kind of uncle.

I closed the door, kicking my shoes off and throwing myself on the bed. I need a shower, like badly need a wash after the long sweaty journey but I was so exhausted that the second my back hit the mattress I had no plans on getting back up. I released a heavy breath this was my new; life, living with Uncle Jesse.

I guess it could have been worse, I could have been thrown into foster care or taking up refuge in a young person’s hostel. This will do, it will have to do until my eighteenth birthday that I for sure will be counting down the days to.