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They have just re-done the manager’s apartment. It’s a two-bedroom on the ground floor with brand new carpets, tiled kitchen, all new appliances, a new bathroom, and freshly painted walls. It’s plain, but it seems decent enough. There’s even a patio door leading into a tiny backyard with a privacy fence. We don’t want to live here forever, but it’s okay for a?start.
Scott goes out to meet the furniture delivery guy, who’s alone and needs Scott to grab one end of the couch. I start unpacking our stuff, putting the bags on the kitchen counter and flipping on the light. Out of the corner of my eye I see something scurry out of sight. I open the cupboard and there’s another one. Cockroaches. Oh my god, cockroaches.
Scott comes in with the couch and finds me standing in the middle of the living room. “What’s the matter?”
“Cockroaches.”
“What?”
The delivery guy, who’s about our age and wearing a Metallica t-shirt, nods his head. “Oh yeah,” he says, “I’m sure.” He offers a sympathetic look. “Good luck you guys,” he says, and then leaves.
We sit on the couch, the only thing in our living room, and Scott tries to comfort me. “I can’t live with cockroaches,” I tell him. “I’d be fine with spiders or ants, but cockroaches are just too much.”
“I don’t know what else we can do. We’ve spent all our money. We literally have a hundred bucks.”
I have my thousand dollar bond that I could cash in, but that wouldn’t even get us into an apartment because they all require first and last month’s rent. And so we decide, out of necessity, to stick it out until we get our first paycheck and then find another (cockroach-free) place to live. In the meantime, though, we’re going to see if the property managers can do anything.
Scott calls Daphne about the situation. “There’s cockroaches!” Silence as he listens. His eyebrows raise. “You knew about them? Why didn’t you tell us?”
Scott hangs up, furious. “She says it didn’t come up. That’s why she didn’t tell us.” He throws his hands up in the air. “Well, we have no choice now. We have?to stay, at least for a while. We have nowhere else to go!”
“Can’t they at least have pest control come and fumigate or something?”
“Apparently they just did.”
So our plan is to leave as soon as we can, but in the meantime, we have to get to work so we’ll get paid. We go through the stack of paperwork Daphne left for us inside the door: folders containing each resident’s information, past-due rent notices, lists of policies, and application forms in case anyone wants to rent either of the two vacant apartments. She also left a stack of letters?introducing us as the new managers, which we’re supposed to take around to each apartment.
As we step out, the door across from ours swings open, and there stands a little old lady in her bathrobe. “Are you the new managers?” she asks.
“Yes we are.” I smile and introduce us by name.
“Come in, come in,” she says. She steps back into her apartment and holds the door open.
“I should go distribute these,” Scott says, holding the notices. He walks away and I step into the woman’s apartment. The place is dark and dank, and all the furnishings are seventies. Not cool and trendy seventies, but worn and tacky seventies. I sit on her plastic-covered couch, and she tells me about her son, the doctor, who comes to see her every week and who’s going to move in with her soon. He’s a surgeon, and he’s very busy. He’s also very popular, and very well-respected. She tells me about the amazing operations he’s performed. I listen, and for a while I forget about the cockroaches in my place. But I remember soon enough when one crawls across the wall in front of us.
I can’t help but gasp. “A cockroach!”
The woman nods. “I ignore them,” she tells me, keeping her eyes on me.
At home, they’re on my mind constantly. I’m on edge, expecting to find one in every cupboard, behind every corner. When I do see one, somehow I’m still surprised, jumping back in horror and running from the room, yelling for Scott to go take care of it. By the time he gets there, it’s usually gone.
After a few days, I receive a call from the little old lady’s case worker. “Evelyn told me you’re the new apartment manager,” she says.
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