For the first time in twenty-seven years of life, I really was beginning to question if God hated me.
This didn’t happen when I’d finally broken down and left home.
It didn’t happen my second semester of nursing school when I got a horrific bout of stomach flu the week of finals.
It didn’t even happen a couple hours earlier when I’d gone back to my apartment after a long shift to find the locks being changed.
No, it happened after eleven o’clock at night when the alarming amount of smoke my car was making had become too much to ignore, so I’d pulled off onto the shoulder. It happened when I’d stopped, turned off the car, and tried to start it up again and got…nothing.
All I needed now was for the abnormally chilly May night to be capped off with rain to put the demoralizing cherry on top of a nightmare of a day. As someone that generally tried to keep my mind on the bright side, that kind of woe-is-me dramatics said a lot about my mental state.
See, that afternoon, I learned that basically the only person in my life that I thought I could trust had royally screwed me over.
Four years ago, when I left home with two suitcases to my name, and knowing that I wouldn’t be welcomed back, I understood I had to be smart. I found a way to pay for school on my own. I found a way to support myself, even if it meant eight hour shifts after a full schedule of classes and practicums.
What I couldn’t do was build a backlog of credit in the blink of an eye, and thus I’d made my fatal error: I put my trust in my classmate-turned-roommate, Steph.
Apparently, over the last couple months, she’d decided not to live up to that expectation, something that was made all too evident when I got home that evening.
All I could think as I climbed the three flights of stairs up to my apartment was how badly I wanted to go to sleep. Maybe when I got up there, I’d just call it a night at six-thirty and be done with it.
I shouldn’t. I had a final next week that I should be proactive and start studying for. But sleep. Sleep sounded so much better.
Turning to head up another flight, I took a deep breath in with a silent pep-talk not to give into the exhaustion and sit down right there in the middle of the stairwell. When I did, I caught that ever-unpleasant odor of grease that always clung to me after work. At the smell, I decided firmly that a shower would have to come first. I could spend the time in there debating the merits of crawling right into bed afterward.
All thoughts of showers, of sleep, of anything outside of that apartment building vanished when I turned down the hall and saw the building maintenance guy kneeling in front of our door, apparently changing the lock.
Already feeling a sense of dread, I moved toward him. What if something bad happened? What if someone broke in? What about Steph? Was she okay?
“Um, excuse me,” I called as I got close.
The man, who I’d seen around the building a few times but never met, turned his attention to me. “Yeah?”
“I was…well…wondering what you’re doing?”
He gave me a look like I had to be stupid before he muttered, “Changing the lock.”
“Right. I got that. I was more wondering why.”
He eyed me, but responded, “Eviction. Not an issue. No one else is being affected.”
Eviction?
I couldn’t even process what he was saying. I just stood there, staring at him. Eventually, he shook his head and went back to his task. When he did, I mutely turned my eyes to the numbered plaque beside the door, hoping beyond hope that I’d somehow mistakenly ended up outside the wrong apartment despite making the same trek to and from it for two years.
314.
Nope. That was the right one.
But eviction?
We couldn’t be getting evicted.
“Um…doesn’t there have to be some notice?”
The guy huffed out a sigh as he stopped what he was doing and looked at me with frank impatience. “There was. A few of them. Reminders about the unpaid rent. A warning what would happen if that didn’t get paid. Then the actual eviction notice went up on the door. Put it there myself. Now, if you don’t mind…”
“But I live here,” I blurted.
Steph had told me not to tell anyone associated with the building I was living there since I wasn’t on the lease. She said it would just make things complicated. So I hadn’t. Right then, I was pretty sure things were already complicated whether I kept my mouth shut or not.
The maintenance guy turned more fully my way, then stated, “Super said there was only one person on the lease. A Stephanie Mixon. Met her once or twice, and she wasn’t you.”
No, I definitely wasn’t Steph. She was six inches taller than me, model thin, and she had black hair and an olive tint to her skin that only made me look paler by comparison.
“Yes, but I live here, too. I pay part of the rent. I don’t know if that’s against the building policy or anything…”
“Not that I know of, but I’m not in charge of that, either. Do know it’s grounds for eviction if someone goes five months without paying rent.”
Five months?
Five. Months.
I’d been giving Steph my half of the rent just like always. Heck, I’d gave her extra the last two months because she said things were tight for her at the moment, that she’d make it up to me by paying more as soon as she could.
How could things be tight for her if she was just pocketing all the rent money I’d been giving her?
And yet, even as I had the thought, part of me knew. The same part of me that had hesitated when she’d asked me to cover that extra part of the rent. It was the part of me that noticed the way she’d been changing lately, starting about the time that her latest boyfriend came around. He’d made me uncomfortable right from the start. Then, I’d seen him in the living room from the hall while he shot up. He didn’t notice me, but I’d given him a wide berth after that, which meant I’d done the same to Steph.
Which apparently gave her the opening to screw me over.
“I…I don’t…” I stuttered out, then swallowed to give myself a chance to get it together. “All my stuff is in there.”
I noticed through my shock and panic that the man in front of me actually started to look sympathetic in the face of my idiocy that he was clearly catching onto.
“The super’s down in his office,” he offered, his voice noticeably gentler. I didn’t even let myself dwell on the shame that might drum up. “Go down, explain how she screwed you. I can’t say what he’ll do. There was a thirty-day evacuation notice, which I’m guessing she made sure you didn’t see. But maybe he’ll let you get in there to get your stuff.”
Oh, she definitely made sure I didn’t see that, but there was so much more I hadn’t let myself see. Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t be in that position.
“Right. I…um…thank you,” I stammered.
Now, I found myself with all my possessions packed up once again—though I’d added two boxes to the two suitcases—and in the back of a car that was taking me a whole lot of nowhere.
Since it had taken nearly the entirety of my bank account to convince the none-too-pleased building manager to let me into the apartment to get my stuff, I wasn’t exactly sure how I was going to get the funds together to get my car moving again, let alone put down a deposit on a new place.
I sighed, the action aching against the tightness in my lungs.
I wasn’t going to cry. I wasn’t. Tears weren’t going to do a thing for me.
Right now, just like every day since I packed my bags and left home, I had only myself to rely on.
I just needed to come up with a plan.
Somehow.
My musings on this were cut off by a throaty sound of an engine. It was loud, much louder than normal cars. It had to be one of those souped-up ones.
A glance in my rearview mirror showed me a single light approaching rather than two.
Then, it slowed and pulled off the road onto the shoulder behind me.
Seeing that, I actually dropped my forehead to my hands and prayed that this nightmare wasn’t about to get worse.
This went on a little longer than I expected, which gave the man time to dismount and walk up to my door. I only looked up and focused back on the situation at hand when he tapped on the window.
My head popped up, and my mouth dropped open.
The dusting of gray contrasting his dark hair at his temples and parts of his less groomed beard was a bit more prominent than it had been. The muscles in his shoulders and upper arms that I could see stood out even more so. But what really stood out was the edge of a hardness to his face I didn’t recognize. Still, he was probably the most handsome man I’d ever seen.
Just like he had been the last time I saw him, right after he’d turned me down when I asked him out.
“Stone.”