Three months later, Celia sat on the balcony off her upstairs bedroom with a glass of red wine and her laptop.
She had found this place a week after arriving in Austin. It had everything she'd been looking for: new construction, stylish hardwood floors, high ceilings, and it wasn't far from work. There were two bedrooms, which she utilized with precision. She took the primary bedroom, of course; the realtor had scolded her after she had referred to it as the master bedroom.
Whatever. I'm the master in this household.
The cantilevered balcony, jutting out from the primary bedroom, had been the deciding factor in her decision to take this place.
The second room doubled as a guest room and office.
In addition to the upstairs bedrooms, an expansive living area and kitchen filled the downstairs. A spacious patio sat off the living room The two-story condo included two bedrooms upstairs and an expansive living area and kitchen downstairs. A spacious patio sat off the living room, and a balcony cantilevered from the primary bedroom directly above. Chrome trim gleamed along the kitchen counters and island, complemented by a set of coordinated appliances—a refrigerator, stove, and microwave—all shining in perfect harmony. The dishwasher mainly sat idle, since living alone meant it took weeks to fill with dirty dishes. The sink featured a sleek gooseneck faucet that delighted her every time she used it; its elegant design made even rinsing plates feel special. She found genuine glee in pulling down the nozzle and spraying the dishes. It amazed her how such small details could bring such joy.
An adjustable-speed ceiling fan spun on the low setting over the empty dining area. Having left most of the furniture she'd owned in Houston, she had the joyful challenge of furnishing the new place—definitely a work in progress. An online order of a sofa, coffee table, and breakfast table with four chairs arrived three days after she moved in. A dining table, chairs, and other décor items would follow soon. That prospect excited her; she'd never had a dining room set before. Two large bay windows allowed in plenty of light. She'd added two standing houseplants that were thriving in the bountiful sunlight. She understood that a condo like this, in any other part of the country, would be outrageous, but in Austin, it fit well within her budget.
The complex itself boasted a gym, a public meeting area, and a spectacular heated pool that opened in early spring. To her delight, a BBQ area sat on an island in the middle, with a wooden bridge connecting it to the main walkway. She hadn't used the BBQ yet, but it settled well with her that she had the option.
Padded hammocks and chaise lounge chairs circled the pool, beckoning tenants to the party that never stopped. (They didn't offer a dog-washing area, but that wasn't a deal breaker. She still didn't have a dog.)
I don't know why that always makes me laugh.
Having the gym available proved to be a special treat. After falling into the habit of getting to work an hour early to study, Celia continued to get up early and use the time to work out. Actual muscle definition had become visible on her arms and shoulders. She loved the feel of her hardened biceps and how they flexed with the simplest motions. Her weight had stayed about the same, but clearly she'd traded fat for muscle.
Sitting on the balcony in her underwear and a T-shirt, she dropped back her head and reveled in her solitude. It seemed that depression had not made the trip with her to Austin, and since her arrival, her life had been nothing but lollipops and rainbows.
Tucked away at the rear of the building and shielded from sight, the balcony had become a private sanctuary. On one side, a tall maple tree stood along the street, while the neighboring building's back wall provided additional privacy, making the balcony a secluded spot hidden from the rest of the complex. There wasn't much of a view, but it gave her a private nook of her own. Being as scantily clad as possible in the warm Texas night air had become a guilty pleasure.
Taking a deep, satisfied breath, she once again mentally pinched herself. I must have done something right in a past life to be living here. The contrast between this delightful condo and her old Houston apartment astounded her. The light, airy quality of her new abode made her feel exhilarated, accomplished, and satisfied, as opposed to the oppressive, dark catacomb she had shared with Rod. The divergence between the two accentuated the new woman she had become.
The C.O.R.D.E.L.I.A. agenda was close to completion. Her name change became official just three weeks after she filed, and the banks updated her accounts without hassle. A new driver's license, employment record, credit and debit cards, and her lease all sported her new name, Cordelia Barlow. She had even applied for a passport, although she had no travel plans at the moment.
Her task that night was to finalize her divorce from Rod. Since the move, this task has fallen by the wayside. To put this matter to bed, she had to complete the paperwork, which consisted of listing all joint assets, including life insurance, jewelry, real estate holdings, recreational equipment, stocks, trusts, and vehicles. There had been a whole lot of zeros filled in beside each of those categories. Their shared assets came down to two trucks and a treadmill. If they could have gotten two grand apiece for the trucks, their combined wealth would have totaled about $5,000. That wasn't counting her nest-egg stash, which had been greatly diminished by the boob job and the move, though with her raise, she had already started to replenish it.
Looking at the vast number of zeros, she let out a sorry laugh. Thirteen years, and we didn't build a damn thing together. Using the electronic signature function to close out the process, she pushed Send. The documents were on their way to the court and to Rod. As soon as he signed the papers, the entire transition would be complete.
He signs, and it's a done deal.
Taking a sip of wine, she closed the laptop. A slight feeling of remorse settled over her. While this lifestyle change had been magnificent for her, there was still a resounding emptiness. She didn't long for Rod, but she did long for something to fill that void—not in a permanent, always-there, never-out-of-the-way manner, but in a friendly, how-ya-doing way that kept her from feeling lonely. Living with someone for thirteen years creates a muscle memory of the heart that seems to take a while to overcome. You just get used to someone always being around.
Even so, it amazed her how easy it had been to purge Rod from her life. She hadn't experienced a sense of longing or any pangs of regret, and she didn't miss him. She had moved on from him with the ease of a passing holiday and held no malice or contempt in her heart, only relief. She regretted the wasted time, but there was nothing to be done about that.
Grabbing her phone, she opened the dating app she had been toying with.
This should get my mind off this.
When she first ventured into the idea of online dating, there were so many sites that she'd had trouble finding the one that worked for her. After significant searching, she had finally settled on the least daunting one, SuperStar.
The app's theme centered on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. If you clicked on a profile you liked, the profile pic flew up and landed in its own star on the Walk of Fame while the song "Hooray for Hollywood" played. The potential match had thirty minutes to reply. It couldn't have been cornier, but that was a significant part of the appeal.
Having heard so much about dating apps over the years, she never thought she'd have to use one. Until you jump into this cesspool of desperation, there's no way to know how uncomfortable they really are. On top of that, the few dates she had gone on had been disastrous. She'd met up with someone who had seemed intriguing, but he turned out to be capable of boring the bark off a tree.
Another fellow, Brent, interested her. They ended up kissing in his car, and he felt her up. He seemed nice enough, but there was just no spark, so it didn't go any further. Mostly, she just stalked her way through the pictures with no real impulse to swipe.
Celia's phone buzzed. She saw a text from Rod and let out a little snicker. How funny you're texting while I'm trolling a dating site. If you only knew. Come on, babe. I ain't got enough to live on. Can you help me out? I stayed in the aprtment; the depo was already there, ya know. But it's busting me. Celia took a sip of her red wine, shook her head, and deleted the text. "As soon as this divorce is final, you are so blocked, motherfucker." Rod's text only further fueled her motivation to cruise the site. Scrolling through, a very handsome man caught her eye. She swiped right and waited. The message box opened up, and the flirtation dance began.