Chapter 29
The driver looked rough and tough, a bit intimidating. I was used to clean-cut men with fair skin, dressed in suits, ties, and overcoats. This guy looked like he might have just gotten out of prison. I instinctively tightened my grip on my bag, remembering the pepper spray and self-defense knife Lena had slipped inside. Before I could reach for them, he started the car and remained silent. “What was that look supposed to mean?” I wondered. My brief moment of calm was replaced by unease. On high alert, I barely registered the townscape. When the car stopped, I quickly paid and got out, watching the taxi drive away before sighing in relief.
It was already ten o'clock at night, and I realized arriving at this hour might not have been the smartest move. I could have waited until the next day to search for my parents' old home, but since I was already here, there was no point in second-guessing. The area was incredibly run-down, with crumbling walls and pothole-ridden streets filled with puddles. My rolling suitcase was useless; I had to carry it. My dad’s address was 42 Oldbridge Street. I checked each house number until I found it, marked with a “For Rent” sign. “Who would want to rent a place like this? Only an idiot,” I thought as I walked in. It was a small courtyard surrounded by buildings, with a barely visible ginkgo tree in the middle. I knew it—the one my dad had watched grow.
“Are you looking for someone or a place to stay?” an elderly voice asked. I turned to see a woman with gray hair, leaning on a walking stick, scrutinizing me.
“I… I want to rent a room,” I said, pointing to the easternmost room. “That one.” My dad had told me the courtyard had three bedrooms: the main hall in the middle for guests and daily activities, the kitchen on the west side, and the bedrooms on the east. When my parents left, they sold the property. It had since been renovated, but I wanted the room where they once slept.
“That room is occupied. You can stay in this one,” the old lady said, pointing to the adjoining room. I didn’t respond, still wanting the easternmost room.
Sensing my hesitation, she explained, “That room is old. This one is newer and better for a young girl like you. Let me show you. By the way, I’m Macy Matchley. You can call me Macy.”
“Keira Kay.”
Macy led me to the room. It was clean, with fresh white walls and tidy bedding.
“It looks nice, but I still want that room,” I insisted.
Macy sighed. “You can wait for the tenant to return and see if he’s willing to switch with you.”
“Alright,” I agreed.
Even if I couldn’t get that exact room, I was determined to stay here, all because of that ginkgo tree. I handed some cash to Macy, grabbed the hot water she’d boiled for tea, and went back to my room. Just as I was settling in, my phone buzzed. I thought it was Lena, but I froze when I saw the caller ID. Someone I hadn’t talked to in ten years was calling me.