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We’re approved, at a twenty-nine percent interest rate, and they cut us a check right there. We don’t have a bank account yet, so we have to cash it at Money Mart, which takes ten percent. But it’s okay. We still have enough. We buy a newspaper, go back to the cockroach apartment, and start calling about the places that sound good.
We line up four places to see this afternoon. Two apartments, one townhouse, and one small house. They’re all fine, but I like the house best. I’d love to have a house of our own.
“Are there any cockroaches or other infestations?” I ask the property manager. I’ve already learned that if a renter asks a question, the owner/manager needs to answer truthfully. If they aren’t asked, however, they aren’t required to offer the information.
“No,” the manager says.
“We’ll take it.”
“We just have to run background and credit checks. We’ll get back to you in the morning.”
So it’s one more night I have to endure. I tell myself over and over, “you can do it.” And I do. I wake up the next morning and sit by the phone until ten o’clock, until I can’t stand it any longer and must call.
“We were just about to call you,” they say. “You’ve been approved. Swing by and get the keys.”
Finally, something works out. “Our big break,” I say to Scott.
I pack our things, obsessively certain that there’s no cockroaches in the boxes, and place them in our car. We call the management office and tell them we’re leaving, effective immediately, because we can’t work under these conditions. We leave the paperwork in the file cabinet in the entryway, and lock the door behind us. Scott waits for me in the car as I knock on Evelyn’s door. She answers in her bathrobe.
“Hello, dear. Come in!”
“I’m sorry, I can’t. I just want to tell you we’re leaving. We won’t be the managers anymore. But you have your case worker’s phone number. Call her if you need anything, okay?”
A flicker of panic flashes across her face, and then it’s gone. “That’s okay, dear. My son’s coming tomorrow. He’s a doctor, you know.”
I give her a smile, and then walk to the car. I don’t look back as Scott drives away.
We drive through town, passing side streets, one after another. Apartment buildings and townhomes. What’s going on inside them? Are they infested with cockroaches, too? Are they occupied by little old delusional ladies who are alone and forgotten? Some of the apartment buildings we pass look just as bad as the one we just left. I wonder how many more people are living like that. How many more people have fallen through the cracks?
I try to push the memories from my mind. I need to look forward instead of back, I remind myself. I take a few deep breaths, and that helps. I feel better with each passing moment.
After we sign our new lease and get the keys, Scott pulls into a liquor store and comes out with a bottle of sparkling wine. That night, in our new cockroach-free home, we make a toast to the future.
Year Two
Working
We need to get some money coming in. We used our whole loan, practically, for our deposit, rent, and getting our phone hooked up. Rent will be due again in a month, and we have to get utilities switched over. Then there’s food, and gas, and the things that always come up. We need jobs now.
The phone company promised to have our phone connected by the end of the day. We go to a print shop and rent some computer time to draft résumés, and we print ten copies each. Then, we drive each other around and apply at the places we have circled in the classified section.
We go out again the next day, and on the third day I land a job waitressing at a family Italian place. They have me go through four days of training before they let me take my own tables and keep the tips. Thirty-two dollars the first lunch shift, which is very low considering I was there for seven hours, preparing beforehand and doing sidework afterwards. But it’s been so long since we’ve had any extra cash that I’m happy with the thirty-two bucks.
Scott gets a job as a security officer at the Marriott hotel in the heart of downtown. He works over-nights and spends his time walking the halls in case something happens. He doesn’t mind it, except for having to stay up all night. He crawls into bed just as I’m getting up in the morning and sleeps while I’m at work.
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