Creative Writing: Remy Anderson's Home

Remy Anderson’s footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as she climbed the stairs to her best friend’s apartment. The trek to the third floor was no easy feat considering that she was toting a duffel bag, a backpack, and a half-eaten pumpkin pie. Arriving at their apartment door, she rang the bell and waited in the dull glow of the gold chandelier. Rachael swung the door open and eyed her bags. “That bad, huh?” “They need time to cool off.” Remy gave her a grave look. “But on the up side, I took the pie.” “Pumpkin?” she asked, taking the tin from her, and lifting the foil. Remy nodded. “But it’s August.” “Just because it’s not November doesn’t mean it’s not delicious.” She followed her inside, …show more content…

Her mother had made it in celebration. Maybe she should just throw it away with the rest of her plans. Rachael placed a hand on her shoulder and she looked up. “It’s going to be okay, Rem.” She gave her an encouraging smile before turning and yelling over her shoulder, “Seamus, ready the air mattress! Remy’s crashing here.” His response was inaudible, but he seemed to have heard her as the video game gunfire stopped, the apartment suddenly quiet. Remy stood by the front door, unsure what to do, already guilt-ridden over imposing on her friends short notice. It wasn’t like they hadn’t housed her during rough patches with her family before; it was more that she usually wasn’t the one causing the drama. After setting the pie on the kitchen counter, Rachael took a seat at the kitchen table, resting a hand on her protruding pregnant belly. “I ordered you a pizza.” She nodded to the box on the …show more content…

“So, yeah, you all are sitting around me with your established lives—” She paused, and placed a hand on Rachael’s arm. “I really am happy for you guys. All that love and babies and shit is great.” Rachael beamed for a moment, before regaining her serious expression. “I know, Remy. Now back to your crisis.” She sighed. “So, yeah, I’m sitting there and kind of starting to wonder if I really want higher education to be my boyfriend for the next few years.” She closed her eyes, remembering the suffocating feeling that had filled her amidst the talk of new life. “And that was when I excused myself to go have a panic attack in the bathroom.” She exhaled slowly. Admitting that was hard. Rachael had been the one to talk her into seeing a counselor on campus her sophomore year when her anxiety had been really bad. She didn’t want her to think she was back to that. “Ha! I told you she wasn’t pooping! I win!” Rachael smirked at Seamus, who slumped in his chair in defeat. Remy gave them a confused look, the response not what she had anticipated. “You win?” “Anderson Family BINGO,” Rachael