Chapter Text
I learned to love San Francisco too late. The hot summer days in the city used to be some of my favorites. I would spend the day out by the beach, or go to the park and have a picnic with my family. When the days were cold, my sister Allison would take me out to the library or to get hot chocolate. My dad would sometimes save us enough money to go to a football game. Driving down to Santa Clara to see the 49ers play was one of the best memories I had living here. But I saw San Francisco unknown too early and I loved it too late.
Now, it was being taken from me. My father decided to take a job offer he got in a city deep in the desert. It was a big shift. Going from the green landscape to nothing but dirt and sand? I was bummed. I didn’t understand. We had lived comfortably in San Francisco for a few years. I thought this place would be the one we stayed in for longer. I was wrong.
To try and cheer me up, my dad took me to our favorite ice cream shop for one last time. My mom and my sister were busy packing the rest of our belongings. They didn’t make me help because they could see how upset I was. I wasn’t happy about leaving. I didn’t want to move to some boring old desert town. There was probably nothing to do there anyway.
“What kind of ice cream did you want again, sweetheart?” My dad asked. My arms crossed over my chest. I stared blankly at the menu, not wanting to answer my dad. He nudged my shoulder. “Lexie, what ice cream did you want?”
I groaned, “Chocolate cookie swirl.”
“Okay. Why don’t you go wait at one of the tables?” He suggested.
I rolled my eyes and stomped my way over. I sat at one of the empty tables. Though we were getting ice cream, I wasn’t going to be joyful. There was nothing joyful about this trip to the ice cream shop.
San Francisco was nice to us. My mom had a job at a boutique and my dad seemed fine at his other job. Why did he have to take that offer? Why did we have to leave? None of this made sense to me. I wanted to stay here. I hated moving all the time. My family never seemed to stay in one place. I thought San Francisco would be the one to stop that.
We first lived in Oregon until I was nine years old. It was nice. I didn’t remember much of it since I was so young, but it was nice. We didn’t move until after I spent a summer with my grandfather. I didn’t know why we were moving and I still didn’t. All I knew was when my mom picked me up and I got home, my dad had packed all our belongings. The whole house was empty. I found Allison sitting on her suitcase in anger from having to leave.
Then we moved to Michigan for a year. I didn’t enjoy the summer as much as I thought I would. There were way too many bugs and deers would be on the road to give you a heart attack. When I was ten, we moved to Mexico. We were only there for a few months. I had fun there, but my parents changed after that. They never told me why Mexico was a short visit. I assumed it had to do with whatever work they had. Then we moved to New York. I didn’t enjoy it as much because my parents hardly let me do anything in that city.
After that, we left for France. It was our homeland and one of our other longer stays. I enjoyed learning the language, but hated being so far away from America. I didn’t get to see my aunt Kate as often. We were there until I was thirteen. That was when we went to Ireland. It was beautiful and unlike any place I had seen before. But still, I was unhappy. Finally, when I turned fifteen, we moved to California — to San Francisco. We stayed there until now.
I was tired of moving. I hated it. I wanted to stay here in San Francisco where I was happy. What was some desert town going to give me that was better than San Francisco?
“Here, sweetheart,” The voice of my dad came into my ears. I glanced up as he sat down in the chair in front of me. He placed two cups of ice cream on the table. “One chocolate cookie swirl. I got myself a strawberry sherbet. Wanna try?”
I let out a huff and shook my head. “No, I’m fine with mine.”
My dad frowned as I grabbed my ice cream and my spoon. I scooped up a piece and placed it in my mouth. Tasting the ice cream only made me sadder. This was going to be the last time I ever tasted the best chocolate cookie swirl I ever had.
“Come on, Lexie. You can’t be this upset about us moving, huh? We move all the time,” My dad pointed out.
I scoffed, “Yeah, and I hate it. Why can’t we just stay in one place for the rest of our lives? Why do we always have to move?”
“You already know, Lexie. My work —”
“You don’t always have to accept those job offers or business trips, Dad,” I argued before he could even finish his sentence. “We could’ve just stayed here and made a life for ourselves for once. What does the desert even have? Because it definitely doesn’t have this good of ice cream.” I plopped the spoon in my ice cream in sadness.
My dad heaved out a sigh. “Well, for one, it has a better job offer. And I heard that the people there are quite interesting.” I sent him a look. My dad leaned forward. “You can’t judge the place before you’ve even stepped in it, Lexie.”
I ate a piece of my ice cream again. “I can and I will.”
“What if I told you we could come back to San Francisco?”
I perked up at my dad’s words. “Why would we come back?”
“Well, you seem to like it so much, so obviously, we have to come back,” My dad explained. “And maybe we can even stay here permanently after I retire, or if something else happens.” I frowned again. It would be awhile till my dad retired. It seemed he was working all the time. “What do you think, Lexie? Move back here after I’m finished with work?”
I knew we couldn’t stay here since we were already leaving. But knowing there was a possibility of coming back was enough for me. For now, at least.
“I think it’s a good idea,” I concluded.
A smile appeared on my dad’s face as we finished the rest of our ice creams. When I licked the last of it on my spoon, my dad’s phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and read the message he got.
“Ah, it’s your mom. They’re at the airport already. We should get going,” He said.
I nodded and picked up our cups. I walked to the trash can and threw them away. When we walked up to the glass doors together, two people came inside. I jumped back, letting them pass. It was two teenagers around my age. They were twins. I didn’t take in much of their features though.
I ignored them and followed my dad out of the shop. We walked down the sidewalk to my dad’s red Chevy Tahoe. I recalled all the memories I had here in San Francisco. While there was hope of having more, I still couldn’t forget the fact that I learned to love it too late. Is that how it always would be? Would I love too late?
I got in the car and asked, “Hey, Dad, what town are we moving to again?”
He slammed his car door closed. “Oh, it’s called Beacon Hills. You wouldn’t know it.”
I hummed. What the hell was Beacon Hills?