After escaping Bear Lake, a total blessing looking back now, seeing the many feet of snow they got the weekend after- I was back at Zoe’s studio apartment alone. She was staying in a hotel for the Image Awards Show, a black tie event. She was working in their hospitality department organizing and welcoming guests. I was excited that she was going to wear one of my skirts I’d saved from a wedding I was in back in the 90s. So fun that my 20s aged fashion is back in just in time for hers. I saved a lot of what I thought was my cool stuff and love how my daughters embrace it.

So I was left alone and intended to surprise her with helping her to unpack and get her situated in her new apartment. You know, cleaning, hanging pictures, etc. But instead I found myself barely able to move. I made an appointment at the urgent care and found out I had bronchitis and covid. Thank God for antibiotics. My weekend was spent sleeping on her mattress on the floor.

I did manage to order her a bed frame which she later cursed me for while putting it together. Somehow shopping online is still manageable while 😷 ill.

I didn’t want Zoe to return and have to endure my coughing and complete dependence so I booked another random Airbnb. The weather here was rainy, gloomy and chilly. Much like the Ohio weather I left behind. Now sick, all I wanted was peace and sleep.

The place I selected was based on pricing. It appeared to be only 20 minutes from Zoe’s place. Once I arrived and medicated up, I tried to rest only realizing yet again these LA homes don’t have heat.

The next morning I texted the owner who told me there was an electric space heater in the closet and I basically had that by my side as I worked and slept through my Monday.

I didn’t want to waste my entire stay in bed so I dragged my butt down the street 15 minutes to Manhattan Beach before I lost daylight

The next day I mentioned to the owner of my company that I walked the seaside in attempts to feel better. She told me I was very close to where she used to live, Hermosa Beach.

I decided I would try to make time to go there to send her a few photos before I left this area of California.

The next day was the end of the month and I knew I had to return Crystal to the rental place. What I wasn’t sure of was if they would allow me to do so in LA. I was told by the Cincinnati location that I had to come back to Cincy, but I was told by others that Cali area was desperate for cars so they’d usually accept them. What do I know? I never read the fine lines of anything I agree to.

I drove to LAX and waited in my car for the man to check if any charges would occur. He said I was good to go. I asked where I could rent a car (instead of the big van I had) and he directed me inside. As I waited in line ( don’t worry I was not contagious according to the doctor since I’d had my symptoms for two weeks prior to diagnosis- again, what do I know?) a receipt popped up in my email saying I was charged $2000 for my car return.

When I got to the counter I told the employee that I wanted my van back. He said it couldn’t happen because they closed the agreement. I explained what was told to me vs what I was charged and he went to discuss with the manager. We went back and forth for over an hour. I had tears silently running down my face and felt like I was going to vomit. This was pushing my physical and emotional limits. I don’t have $2,000 to throw away like that. I started spiraling thinking about what I could’ve done with that money instead.

I kept saying there had to be some way to change it. Eventually, Alvin, who kept telling me it would be okay, miraculously reopened my account and had to assign me a new van at a higher cost but I had to return it to Cincinnati in 14 days. I felt so sick, I had no idea how in the world I was going to make that happen. I knew I couldn’t drive back alone. I had no strength. I couldn’t stop crying. Poor Alvin kept saying “ don’t cry Tonya” and I kept saying I couldn’t help it.

When I left, I found the new rental and completely lost it in the car. After a few deep breaths, I decided to go to Hermosa Beach in attempts to reset my distraught brain. George tried to call but I told him I didn’t want to talk.

As I drove back to the Airbnb I called George. I started crying again describing how I couldn’t get my car back and how I had to drive this new van, which I couldn’t figure out, back to Cincinnati. How I may need antidepressants. I couldn’t get control of my emotions.

He said “ What day do you need to have the car back in Cincinnati?” Then he said, okay, I just booked a flight. I’ll come and drive you home.