Morning Before World Con
24 Hours, 55 Minutes Before Expected Deportation
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.
On ticks the doomsday clock... thought Rosie with an ominous sigh. Ever since she had turned off the music and ceased her little dancing escapade in the shower, the bubbly young lady had been trying her best to stifle an urge to boogie... so she could just get ready as quickly and quietly as possible. You know, like a normal person. It made Susan happy, anyway.
Hair combed? ✓
Teeth brushed? ✓
Makeup applied? ✓
Trousers on? ✓
Basics out of the way, Roisin was momentarily finding little else to do, as few possessions usually made for quick transitions. Packing a single rucksack could be done in five minutes, tops—especially when everything was crammed in slovenly. As it were, Roisin was actually ahead of schedule for once. Ode to freakin' joy! Wouldn't Peter (aka Roisin's father, who she calls Peter just to tease him) be so proud?
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.
Now all there was to do was wait for her landlord to arrive at—cough cough—"8AM sharp." Hmm. How hilarious. Roisin had only met the man once (the day she had moved in), yet he did seem a wee bit prickly. The way he had practically thrown the keys in her general direction was rude enough, but did he have to ramble on about her not having proper papers? Or mumble 'look at what a bad economy has made me do'?
"Don't worry, pal. You can always call the Governator," Roisin joked lightheartedly before she turned on her best Arnie impression:
j u d g e m e n t d a y i s i n e v i t a b l e
Unamused by her antics, the landlord seized the wad of cash from Roisin and began to count it to collect his due rent and deposit. Ro didn't see what the big deal was with Mister Stick-Up-Arse, but she possessed perfectly good money (even if he had reluctantly agreed to house someone who had no record of fixed location or legitimate employment for over a year).
Also (if she did say so herself), she had been ten minutes late, not a whole half an hour like his exaggerating arse claimed. He was being a right prick about everything (to be honest) in that first meeting of theirs. This memory left Ro hoping that there would be no fuss in getting back her $1000 deposit when he finally decided to arrive to fetch the key and inspect the apartment.
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.
It was now 8:08 AM and Rosie's bored baby blues kept following the pendulum—left, right, left, right, left right—from her place on her "couch." What a dated old thing it was (the clock, not the couch), it being the only item left behind by the previous tenant. Rosie had tried to remove it, but it was securely bolted to the main wall, ticking time and life away.
Still, this little nook had treated the Illustrious Miss Rushe well, even if it had only been "home" for slightly over a month. She was sad to say goodbye to the cosiness it had afforded her, especially after spending a year on the road living out of a camper van with randoms. Irregardless, she would never forget this place—and not only the studio apartment, but all of it. America truly had been a bit of a wild roller coaster, but...
My biggest loopty-loop is still to come.
Ah, well. No one could ever say she didn't go all out in almost everything she did, now could they? All you could do is put your hands up and enjoy the ride, couldn't you? At least when she was back in Ireland, she would have many a story to tell old friends and new. She could almost taste her mother’s famous stew, too. And then the doorbell rang, startling Rosie out of her trance-like stare at that tick-tick-ticking of that old grandfather clock.
24 Hours, 21 Minutes Before Expected Deportation
The landlord spent nearly half an hour inspecting every crevice of the apartment (likely looking for any reason to keep the deposit), but not today, satan! Unluckily for him, the apartment was in perfect knick, so the landlord hesitantly handed the wad of cash over to Rosie before instructing her to take her posters off the wall. He said she should 'make it quick' (wow, rude), as he had to get to work by nine.
"All righty," Roisin responded agreeably. "But I'll leave the sofa set."
The man sighed and rolled his eyes. That thing was going straight into the bin.
Whatever. She was only here a fucking month... and it was all in good fun, wasn't it? There was no point in buying an actual couch set, so who was lacking sense here? Plus the teeny Batman sofa had made her blind date laugh when she had brought him back to her place a few weeks ago. If something stupid could make even one person smile, the effort was always worth it to Miss Ro. Wouldn't the world be unbearable otherwise?
Goodbye, Gene, she thought as she began to rip down the first poster, this image displaying the cover album of Kiss Destroyer. Goodbye, husbando, she continued on as down came the beautiful Jason Mamoa, who stood above an inscription that said Unite The Seven.
And goodbye to you too, Robin. Adios.
Once every colourful bit of makeshift decor had been removed, Roisin sauntered over towards the hallway as her landlord lowered the blinds before moving to lock up the place. She took one last glance at the now-empty wall as the apartment door was being slammed in front of her.
And good riddance, Ugly Ass Clock.
A broken lift made the walk down the fire escape a bit of an awkward journey for Roisin, as not a single word was said until landlord and tenant were standing on the footpath directly below the studio apartment. The man murmured a hasty "well... good luck, Irish..." before heading off. Rosie figured this sentiment was not meant very genuinely.
Now alone, the lass stood with only her rucksack, looking up towards her apartment... one last time. She wanted a glimpse of the little robin once more, but it was gone now. Would he return tomorrow to find that she was no longer there to feed him? Who knew. But there was one thing for certain: everything in life always changed. Well, except for one part, that is...
The clock always ticked on.
13 Hours, 27 Minutes Before Expected Deportation
Roisin certainly was nowhere near thrilled, but her last few hours in America had been enjoyable enough. She had purchased tickets for a hop-on, hop-off tour bus around the city, ate to her heart's content, and now was people watching near the Golden Gate Bridge with a strawberry ice cream cone in hand.
She was hoping for a beautiful sunset before she planned to head back to the motel she would be staying in, the place being just a stone's throw away from the immigration office. She really couldn't risk being late for that appointment, especially if she expected the allocated officer to please... be gentle. She sort of liked that guy she had gone on a blind date with, too, so it would be nice to be able to see him again.
Ro stood for a moment to discard the now-sticky bit of paper that had been around her melting cone, dunking it into the closest public garbage can. A few flies buzzed around her face, pests that she swatted away before turning her attention back towards where she had been sitting. As she walked, she took notice of what looked like a receipt that gently blew in the wind.
Deciding that she would do a good deed and pick up after the litterbug, she ran after the coupon that traveled with the breeze. She caught the thing after a small effort, and began to inspect it... naturally. It appeared to be an admittance ticket for some cultural event—one that was going on right now—one that seemed to promise good music.
Glancing first to the left and then to the right, the area around her had no others around... and who knew how far the thing had already blown? Whatever the case, there was no chance of finding the owner of this ticket... realistically. So Roisin decided it might be fun to go check out the event for herself. It could be good craic, sure.
12 Hours, 13 Minutes Before Expected Deportation
It had been some walk, but Rosie eventually made it to the convention centre. The atmosphere truly was buzzing and, as always, Ro followed the music. An interesting band was performing in one section of the place, so onward the young lady went towards the bar to order a cheeky pint before heading off to sip and sway along with the rhythm.