1 Chapter one

I try in vain to close my suitcase, but it doesn't seem to be ready for this long trip, and neither am I. Besides, who would be ready to leave his family for an indefinite period of time, to leave the city where he was born and grew up? I don't think anyone would indeed be ready. You're never prepared to say goodbye.

And yet that's what I'm doing right now, saying goodbye to my room, the one that sheltered me for twenty long years, the one that knew my first loves and my first heartaches, the one that saw me go from a baby to a teenager and then to a young adult. It's so crazy how fast things happen. Just two years ago I never thought I would have the courage to say goodbye to all these beautiful people waiting for me downstairs, and yet here I am closing my last bag for a destination that is so foreign to me, for a new world that I hardly know and a new life that I am rushing to discover despite this fear.

-Rio, hurry up, we're going to be late.

-One minute and I'll be there. I tell my father from the second floor.

I look in the mirror as if to give me courage and confidence. My eyes are red because of lack of sleep and stress, not even mentioning my hair. The night was long and rough, I went out with my few friends from university and then joined my father at home where we talked until the early hours of the morning.

I take one last nostalgic look at my room before turning off the lights and walking down the stairs. My father waits for me near the car, he takes my big suitcase and puts it in the trunk before smiling at me and inviting me into his new car. His brand new pride.

I look back at the front of my house. My eyes are soaked with tears, I quickly erase them so as not to worry my father. I can not believe I'm leaving my house, leaving all my memories and all the projects I was planning to build in this city.

-So ready for a whole new adventure? He's asking overexcited. No, not, really. That's what I'd like to tell him, but instead I just nod my head in disbelief.

I wish I had his enthusiasm, but I can't help thinking I'm being terribly selfish. I am abandoning my only family, the only one that has always been there, in my best times as well as my worst. He has always been here for me without ever complaining, without ever getting tired of my whims. In fact, he's the only one who never left me.

My mother Lydia died when I was only two years old, in an unfortunate car accident that took her life. Since then, my father has been unable to remarry. He rolled up his sleeves and educated me, without anyone's help. His parents had thrown him out, his wife was dead, he had no high degree, he was struggling to earn money, and yet not once had he complained, not once had he given up. And God knows it wasn't always easy, but despite all the trials he stayed, he never gave up on me. Am I that selfish to leave him alone for my own happiness?

As far as I can remember, my father and I have always been an inseparable team, I've never had tons of friends like him. Being the two of us was more than enough, we did everything together; washing dishes, cleaning, watching shows, celebrating birthdays and Christmases. After high school I even chose Boston University among many others, much more prestigious and interesting, to stay close to him, I hardly wanted to leave him alone, and now I'm leaving him, abandoning him like his parents did.

-Rio, are you sure you're all right? You seem preoccupied. My father asks me and pulls me out of my trance.

-Yeah, I'm fine, I just was thinking I'm gonna miss you like hell.

He smiles at me in an emotional and somehow sad way before concentrating on the road. Silence finally takes its place, so I settle down comfortably and watch my father with great attention. I would like not to forget any detail of his face; the color of his eyes, his hair, his nose. I would like to remember his way of laughing at my mediocre jokes, his way of being protective and loving, his way of driving while insulting other drivers nearby.

Fortunately, I can't forget a single stroke of his face. Physically, we look so alike, the same slightly tanned skin tone at any time of the year, the same light brown hair with the difference that mine are long and soft, the same eye colour a mixture of brown and honey, the same thin oval face shape, the same smile that people describe as fresh and devastating. However, I am smaller and much less built than him, I do not fill up my body, with all what my stomach daily absorbs, I should consider myself fortunate enough not to suffer from bulimia and to have a morphology certainly fine but with, according to my friends, pretty shapes.

I look away from the window to take a last look at the streets of Boston. When I think that I will no longer see this endless traffic, these huge buildings, this cloudy and depressing sky, but above all that I will no longer feel the winter cold of the city, goodbye umbrellas, coats and boots.

-You are excited about finally moving to Los Angles for as long as you've dreamed to live there. I tell him that I am very happy and so excited, and then I look at the horizon one more time.

Los Angles, the city of angels, the city of my dreams. I've always had an obsession for this city, yet I've only been there once. I was thirteen years old at the time and I remember falling in love with its beaches, its sunsets, its buildings, its unique and hipster culture, its people, its modernity and above all its warm and summery weather that puts any unhappy person in a good mood. I had promised myself that one day I would discover this city in all its corners. Seven years later I'm moving on to Los Angeles and this time without my father Stefan and mostly for a very long time.

After what seems like an hour, we finally make it to the airport. With my father's help, I take my big suitcases and my bag from the trunk and then we rush to the sliding door. My heart pounds when I realize that my father won't be able to follow me any further and that this is where our paths separate. I turn to him, we look at each other for a few seconds without moving or talking, just standing there trying not to burst into tears. By instinct, I throw myself into his arms with the tears masking my sight and a weak voice.

-I don't have to leave, I can stay here with you. I can't control the tone of my voice, I speak in a sad and emotional way that my dad surely notices.

-No you can't, I want to see you happy, since you made the decision to suddenly leave college, you always seem so angry, desperate and so sad and then when you decided to go to Los Angeles I saw you smile, one of those real and sincere smiles so you're going to get on that plane and you're going to find that smile and that joy again. He stops for a moment to wipe away his first tears before continuing. You promise me Rio.

-Yes, Dad, I promise. I'm still in his big protective arms, shocked and nervous that he brings up the subject of the crisis I went through a few weeks ago, I am grateful that he doesn't look any further, because the reason that drove me to leave The University of Boston may break him even more than it broke me.

After several minutes, my father takes the first step and walks away from me, I do understand it, if we stay longer in this position neither of us will have the courage to let the other go.

-Thank you for being a good father, for always believing in me and for always respecting my decisions. I said to him before taking my courage in both hands. I headed to the airfield leaving a friend, a father and a guardian angel that I will probably not see again until a couple of months from now.

Now alone, I register my luggage and get on the plane. Once seated, a feeling of fear overcomes me. I have never liked these flying machines, the few times I have flown my father was always with me, he would take my hand with an amused smile and whisper to me that everything would be all right. Today I am alone and I feel a terrible lack in my hand. The feeling that something is missing from my hand, like a ring that we have been used to wearing since we got engaged and that disappears as suddenly as brutally.

When all the passengers get on the plane one after the other, the stewardess underlines several instructions before take-off, I hasten to put on my seat belt, then try to fall asleep so as not to be under the weight of the turbulence and, not to be confronted with my fear and loneliness.

I am woken up by an old lady who informs me that we are landing in a few moments, I smile politely at her and thank her. I can't believe I fell asleep during the whole trip. I must have been really tired because usually fear and anxiety always keep me awake during flights.

As soon as I set foot on the Californian ground, a hot flush hit my face. It's the middle of September and yet this terrible sun reminds me of the high temperature of August. This is another glaring difference between Boston and Los Angeles.

I quickly get into a taxi that takes me to the address of my new apartment. Through the window, I observe the landscape to the center of Los Angles. I remain a little disappointed not to cross Hollywood or Beverly Hills but I promise myself that I will visit Los Angeles as soon as possible and have the opportunity to take pictures of the beautiful landscape that this multicultural state offers.

-Is this your first time in Los Angeles? The driver asks me.

-Kind of, I've only just moved here. I reply to the driver while taking some pictures of the city with my camera.

Photography is undoubtedly my ultimate passion, to be able to immortalize a scene, an expression that becomes a memory, a delicious and sweet memory. California is for me the ideal spot for photography, with its hills, its beaches, its colorful and inspiring walls, its street shows and so on, how can I possibly resist the urge to take a picture of the city?

The driver finally stops in front of a multi-story apartment. I thank him, give him the change and then get off in a hurry. The building is made of four floors plus the ground floor, it looks quite old but in very good condition which relieves me, I wouldn't like to have a rat invasion in my new home. I go up to the first floor and look for the number -3- as the owner told me on the phone.

After knocking, the door opens to a rather old man who must be in his sixties. Without a smile or a hello, he gives me the keys and then addresses me in a cold and monotonous tone.

-Here are the keys to the apartment, the rules are simple, no noisy parties, no drugs or junkies, if you break something you'll pay for all the damage. My wife and I live on the top floor so everything is under observation. He goes out and leaves me alone a little traumatized by his words, but it only lasts for a second. It's not an old man who's going to stop me from being excited about living in Los Angeles.

I take a look around the studio and I am pleasantly surprised by its beauty. The front door leads to a modest living room and an open kitchen, then through the small hallway I notice a nice simple bathroom and further down the hall my bedroom, it is also quite small with only the bare necessities, a big bed, a bedside table, a desk and a dressing room. The only positive point is that both the living room and the bedroom have two large bay windows overlooking the center of the city. A beautiful and very sophisticated landscape.

Very quickly I throw myself on the bed tired and exhausted by the journey. I grab my computer and open my mailbox waiting for a message from my future boss.

It was partly this job that made me leave Boston after I quit university. While I was having a hard time, a friend advised me to move to another city and start everything all over again. She also suggested this job and highly recommended it to me because she had worked there for eight months before moving to Miami. I then decided to follow in her footsteps and applied for the Los Angeles Hollywood agency, which is extremely well known in the world of American show business. It manages the careers of hundreds of actors, singers, models and artists whose popularity is worldwide. I applied three weeks ago and had an interview via Skype. I was soon hired as an assistant to one of the agency's managers. Unfortunately for confidentiality reasons I didn't receive much information about the manager I was going to spend the next few months with. I have to admit that this new job excites me because I have never worked in the world of glitter and sparkles before. I'm looking forward to discovering this aspect of Los Angeles that you can only see through movies and social media.

When the sun sets completely and the sky is covered with a dark sheet. I call my father and reassure him. He asks me some questions about the road, the weather and my new apartment. After a brief exchange I hang up and decide to sleep exhausted by the slight delay and nervousness.

Hi guys this is the first chapter of a very new and exciting adventure. You surely notice that I made a lot of mistakes but I'm not American and I'm still learning English so be kind please I'm doing my best I swear.

Any way I hope you all like the first chapter please let me know your opinion down below and do not forget the thumbs up if you enjoy reading this first chapter.

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