In the Beginning

*In order to read this post, you will first need to read-up on the characters. For a (brief) list of characters, please click here.

I arrived in Nashville two hours later than I had intended. It takes eight and a half hours to drive from Tallahassee, but I gained an hour from the time change. I sat on the Hills’ screened-in porch waiting for them to come home. I had spoken with Lovely Hill on the phone a few moments before, and they were on their way home from a dinner engagement with a friend.
“If you make it home before us,” she’d said, her light voice dancing through the speaker on my cell phone, “there’s a porch on the side of the house. Make yourself comfortable; we won’t be far behind you.”

The white-wicker furniture is decorated with white and green striped cushions to sit, and blue and yellow floral pillows to top. There is a coffee table, a bench, a side table with a lamp, and several chairs. However my eye caught the white-wicker porch swing, and I was sold. I sat swaying back and forth for only a minute or two before a car pulled into the driveway. I stood up, walked over, and greeted the people who would be housing me for the duration of my internship in Nashville: Gentle and Lovely Hill. A sweet couple that are probably in their mid-50′s, they were all smiles and each hugged me in turn.
And then, “Boy! Do you hear that?” Lovely exclaimed. And suddenly I did. A loud–really loud!–buzzing noise was coming from, well, all around us. “It’s the cicadas! They only come out every thirteen years! Don’t worry, though, they’ll be gone in a few weeks,” she said with a slight laugh. They showed me in the house and my room, told me how glad they were that I am here, and helped me unload my car and take my luggage upstairs.

Cicadas are large, loud bugs. They aren't harmful, and they don't bite, but they are disgusting.

After settling in, I went downstairs and “visited” with the two of them and Youngin’, their youngest child and only son who had gotten home not longer after my arrival. We sat in the den doing introductions, asking questions and getting to know one another.
“Would you like something to drink?” Lovely asked, and before I could answer–”You’ve been driving all day! Would you just love a glass of wine?” Her refined Tennessee accent makes her hospitality that much more hospitable, though I ended up declining the wine in exchange for a glass of ice water.

As we sat and talked, I knew instantly that I would like living with the Hills, and wanted that much more for them to like me back. I tried to be on my best behavior–keep smiling (which wasn’t hard), say the right thing, listen well, and don’t stumble over simple vocabulary (which happens when I’m nervous). Lovely and I sat in chairs beside each other chit-chatting, with Youngin’ on the sofa talking as well. Gentle sat in a chair across from us, quietly observing and quirking a soft, crooked smile every now and again–but not too often. Every few minutes he would say a word or two and then go back to observing.

After an hour or so, they offered to let me retire to my room to unpack, watch TV and fall asleep. I turned on a miniseries I’ve been following, hung about two shirts, and soon knocked-out cold on the bed, confident entirely that this was going to be a great summer.

I woke up around 9:30 the next morning, and the house was already alive and bustling. I stumbled downstairs in my pajamas and a long cardigan, with glasses on and tousled hair. As I rounded into the kitchen I saw two young ladies my age who I knew must be Lively and Amiable. Lively, the eldest daughter, arrived late last night, and Amiable the middle daughter, had come over earlier that morning. They were both sitting in the den watching TV. Youngin’ was still asleep.
“Good morning!” Lovely was cutting fresh peach into her cereal, and Gentle was pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“Good morning,” I replied. The morning sun was beaming through, sending light in all directions and causing me to wonder whether or not I’ll need coffee; the sunshine was waking me up nicely enough. In the end the smell of the brewed grounds overcame me, so I poured myself a cup anyway.

We spent about an hour and a half doing more introductions while we had our breakfasts. I still wanted to impress them, so was sure to be as amicable and pleasant as I could be before 10:00am. I may look ridiculous in the morning, but I’ll be darned if I was going to be ridiculous as a first impression. Lively mentioned that she was moving in just a few days to Illinois, and asked if I would like to join her and Lovely on a late-morning hunt for a dresser and nightstand. I said I would, and then we all ran upstairs to quickly change, brush our teeth, and go. Lovely and Lively took the long way to the furniture stores so I could see different parts of Nashville. Need-to-know-shortcuts here, and “cutest little boutique” there, I loved what I saw and enjoyed the company. After the third furniture store, we found what we were looking for, loaded it into the back of our SUV, and headed home.

When we pulled into the driveway we three climbed out and chatted our way into the house. Lively had to meet someone shortly, so she ran upstairs to change, and I followed to go use the restroom and put my things down. A successful morning, I thought a few minutes later as I was washing my hands. I haven’t said or done one embarrassing or careless thing yet, I don’t think. I looked into the mirror and checked my outfit.

And suddenly, there it was. Holding on tight to the back-center of my lace overshirt was a giant, disgusting cicada. It didn’t move, and neither did I. My stomach churned and I quickly thought through all of my options. Taking off my shirt wouldn’t do because it might get caught in my hair on the way up. Reaching back and touching it was not even to be considered. And the angle was too awkward to swat it off.

I slowly turned and walked out of the bathroom. I took long, languid lunges down the hallway towards the stairs, and saw Bear and Lively both at the bottom of the staircase as I started my way slowly down each step. They were headed to the kitchen; I followed, first slowly and then breaking into a run about halfway down.

“EeeeeEEEEEHHHHHH!!!” I shouted as I neared the bottom, “Uhhh, I need assistance!?!?!” I tried at first to sound proper. But finally, “WAAHHHHH! I NEED HELPPPP!!!” I came running into the kitchen, and was met by the entire family, all wearing concerned expressions. “IT’S ON ME! IT’S ON MEEEEE!!! WAAHH!!! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!!! MEHHHHH!!!” I had lost all control and was violently flailing my arms and knocking my knees together as I turned around revealing the giant cicada-turned-passenger on my back.
“AHHHHHH!!!!” Lively screamed, and was instantly in the other room.
“Oh my!” Lovely exclaimed.
“Gross!” said Youngin’, with a slight laugh. Gentle, however, remained composed, and walked right over, pulled the cicada off my shirt. He showed it to Bear, who seemed entirely uninterested in it, and then walked to the back door and tossed it outside.
“Thank you,” I exhaled, and everyone went back to what they were doing. I stood for a moment or two blushing and awkward where they left me, and eventually shuffled into the den to watch TV.

In the beginning of every valuable relationship it is always important to make a good, lasting first impression. And while I flipped through the channels, twitching every now and again because it felt like the cicada was “still on me,” I knew that, if nothing else, I had at least left my mark.

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