Waking Up With You (25 page)

“No, I’m good. Please tell your Dad thanks. I’ll fill in the application tomorrow.”

“Do that…Call me, okay?”

“For sure. Thanks for caring. I’m sorry I’m a terrible friend right now.”

“Never that.” We hang up and I go to my room. I lie down, my whole body in shut-down mode. I just want to sleep and wake up, feeling like I used to before Charlie was taken ill. I curl up on my side and close my eyes.

My phone rings at five in the afternoon. It’s Jake. I make up my mind not to answer his call. It’s best this way. He leaves a message on voicemail. I stare at my phone. I want to hear his voice so badly, so I lose my resolve and listen to the recording.

“Em, I just landed at JFK. We didn’t experience much turbulence so it was actually a smooth flight. Call me when you get the chance.” Thank God he’s safe and sound.

I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast, so I go to the kitchen for some fruit. I’ve totally forgotten about putting Mika in the crate, so I rush to get her out. “I’m so sorry, Mika. C’mon, let’s go get you something to eat, too.” I play ball with her and, though she doesn’t know how to fetch well enough, she enjoys picking up the squeaky ball with her mouth. I spoil her with one or two milk bone biscuits. I put her close to my chest and whisper, “I’m going to miss you, little one. You and your master both.” I say a silent prayer that Jake will find a way to take care of Mika when I’m gone.

I’ve had a restless night in my own bed. I haven’t slept in my room for days now, but I couldn’t bring myself to spend the night in Jake’s room. It’s funny how I still refer to it that way. Not our room. Not the master bedroom. But Jake’s room. My subconscious knows it’s not appropriate to call it anything but that. It’s his room, and I just slept there for a couple of days.

I go through my walk-in closet and see that I’ll probably need one more suitcase. I have to ask Paige to lend me one. Or I could just use a disposable box. The Home Depot sells them for three dollars apiece. There’s no use spending money needlessly. I’ll have to start folding the clothes tomorrow. Not much to fold anyway. I see the gown I used at the Christmas party still hanging in a transparent garment bag. I shake my head to stop the memories that are threatening to weaken my resolve.

Fortunately, it’s no longer raining. I can go check out a few rentals in the vicinity. I check out Craigslist and there are at least five places I can go to. I start dialing the contact numbers to inquire if I can pay a visit to the properties today. Three of them say yes, so I enter the addresses on my phone.

I take out Mika for a thirty-minute walk on this chilly day. I put on a scarf and woolen coat for good measure. It’s a cloudy day, and we stop every now and then under the naked trees that line the streets. As we turn around to head back, my phone rings. It’s Jake once again.

Though I’m tempted to let it go to voicemail, I feel guilty for not even responding to his call yesterday afternoon. So I pick up the phone. “Hi, Jake.”

“Em? How are you?”

“I’m fine. And you?” My voice is clipped, and there’s a perceptible awkwardness between us.

“Did you get my message yesterday?”

“Um, yes. I just haven’t had the time to call back.” That sounds so lame even to my ears.

“Have you been busy with something?” He sounds worried.

“No, just cleaning and doing some end-of-the-year stuff. That’s all.”

“End-of-the-year stuff?”

“Yeah.” I don’t elaborate. We both know it’s pure B.S.

A heavy silence settles over us, so I hurriedly end the call. “Jake, I have to go. I’m busy with Mika.”

“Bye, Em. I’ll call you again tomorrow morning.”

“No. There’s no need for you to bother. You’ll be back tomorrow anyway.” Now I sound like a cold-hearted bitch.

“Okay then. Take care.” Take care? Really? Like I’m some random person. I guess I totally deserve that.

Mika and I walk back to the house. I have no choice but to put her in the crate since I can’t bring her with me while room hunting.

My first stop is a condominium on Alameda. I knock on the door of Unit 15, and a man opens. He’s in his early twenties, with curly black hair. He’s casually dressed in jeans and a pullover. He gives me an inquiring look and I say, “I’m sorry. I must have the wrong unit.”

“Are you Emma?”

“Yes. But I spoke to a lady earlier. Marianne, I think.”

“I’m her boyfriend, Brandon. Come in. She’s in the shower, but she’ll be out in a minute.”

I go in and the unit seems to be clean and spartanly furnished. There’s a small couch in the living room and a square table with four mismatched chairs in the dining room. No posters, picture frames, or anything personal. There’s a bright orange bean bag chair near where the TV should be hanging.

“Do you live here, too?”

“Nope. I just spend the night every now and then. Her former roommate left for Chicago. Got a job as a flight attendant, so she’s based there now. How about you? Do you work around here?”

“Yes,” I answer briefly. He seems like a nice guy, but I hesitate to share personal stuff with anyone until I make up my mind.

“Got it. You’d rather have Marianne do the interviewing.” He doesn’t seem put off by my reluctance to share information.

“Sorry. It’s just that I don’t even know if Marianne will like me or want me here, so…” I half-shrug my shoulders.

Just then, a stunningly beautiful blonde steps into the living room, dressed simply in a skirt and sweater. She’s about the same age as Brandon and she has a welcoming smile on her face.

“Emma, right? Hi. I’m Marianne,” she says while she shakes my hand. “Don’t mind Brandon. He’s just being nosy.” She looks at him teasingly. “First of all, I’d like to know how old you are. You seem very young.”

“I’m nineteen. I’m stopping school for a while. I’m starting a job next week at Saint Joseph’s.”

“That’s within walking distance. But, do you really want to quit school? It’s none of my business, but you might want to try being enrolled part-time.”

“No, I have to save a little first. Then I’ll do that.”

“Okay. Let me tell you a little about myself. I’m an executive assistant at an internet company. I also teach jazz dance every evening at the Roth Studio on Olive. However, they had to let go of me last weekend because enrollment has been down lately. I’m subleasing one bedroom. It’s not really allowed under the terms of the lease, but I do need the extra money since my income has been cut. I mean, if it’s okay with you, I’d rather be paid in cash, and not do any paperwork.” I appreciate her honesty.

“That won’t be a problem, Marianne. You did say five hundred a month, yes?”

She nods and then tells me to follow her. The room is rather small. Thankfully, there is a twin bed propped against the wall and a cheap Ikea side table next to it. There’s also a small bench and white desk, and matching swivel chair. The closet space is more than adequate. It can hold everything I own. The bedroom is right next to the common bathroom. It’s on the west side so it gets the afternoon sun, but that’s fine since I won’t be here throughout the day anyway.

“What do you think?” she asks.

“It’s exactly how I thought it would be,” I say.

She asks, “Have you given your present landlord notice?”

“Yes,” I lie because telling her the truth just makes everything complicated.

“I think we’ll get along well. I’m getting good vibes from you,” she says.

“She likes to think she has psychic skills,” Brandon jokes.

“So, do you want it?”

I like Marianne and I’m sorely tempted to say yes, but I do want to check the two other places first before making a commitment.

“I’d like to say yes, but I did make appointments with two other people, so would it be alright if you give me until the end of the day to decide?”

“Not a problem. Just call me before the end of the day. That way I don’t entertain any other would-be renters.”

“Okay. Uhm, will you be needing both one month’s deposit and one month’s advance rent?”

“One month’s deposit will be fine. All I need is for you to be on time with the rent. If you’d like to give me the first month’s rent in advance, that would be cool. Oh, and please advise me if you’re going to have some man spend the night; I don’t want to be walking around half-naked.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” I assure her with complete confidence.

She looks strangely at me, but lets it go.

“Is there anything else I should know, like any special preferences or rules?” I ask so that I won’t be caught by surprise.

“You do need to pay a portion of the utility bill. Your share will be about $35 a month. I’m pretty easy-going, but I’d appreciate it if you can share towards household stuff like paper towels, dishwashing liquid, soap, etcetera. Oh, whatever you use, you have to clean or wash. My previous roommate always had to be reminded to wash the dishes. Clean up after yourself, that’s all. Hands off Brandon… The last one’s a joke. You can have him,” she looks at her boyfriend and laughs like it’s a standing joke between them.

I move towards the front door and say, “Okay, cool. Thanks for seeing me, guys. I’ll let you know no later than six tonight.”

My next stop is a tiny yellow cottage on Parish. An elderly lady opens the door. I tell her my name and she graciously shows me into the house. The living room is warm from the fireplace that’s been lit. The entire house is filled with cozy, well-worn furnishings. Chintz and gingham fabrics are used on the wooden furniture. I find myself relaxing in the soft, inviting surroundings.

Mrs. Williams is a widow who lives by herself. She’s retired, but she used to teach French at Burroughs. This must have been before my time because I never saw her while I was there. Soft-spoken and genteel in manner, she motions for me to sit in one of the high backed chairs.

“Where do you live now, my dear?”

“I live with a friend, but it’s time for me to be independent.” Close enough to the truth.

“What about family?”

“I have no family. My parents have both passed away.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I smile ruefully.

“Are you still studying?” she continues her questioning.

“I’m stopping school for a while, but I intend to go back in a year or two.”

“I will be honest with you, so please don’t be offended. You seem like a well-mannered young lady, but I’d rather have an older person rent the room – someone who just comes and goes. You’re young, and you probably have a lot of friends. Visitors are welcome, but I am set in my ways. I don’t like loud music or, ah, what is the word? Carousing. I’m used to peace and quiet.” She smiles apologetically.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I will hardly have any visitors,” I assure her.

“Even then, dear, living here may be too boring for you. You need to be with people your age. Plus, something tells me that you’re not very sure about your plans.” I understand that she thinks we’re not a good fit. She may be right.

I stand up. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Williams.”

“You’re a nice young lady. You will easily find suitable accommodations.”

“Thank you again,” I say as I exit her front door.

I now drive to the last property on my list. It’s a somewhat run-down duplex on Beachwood Drive. It’s Unit A, so I knock on the left door. After several minutes, I decide to call the owner. The phone just keeps ringing until it goes to voicemail. I guess the owner simply forgot that I was coming over. It’s just as well, since the location is not very convenient for me and I have a feeling the place isn’t as nice as Marianne’s or Mrs. Williams’.

I give Marianne a call and tell her I definitely would like to rent the room. She excitedly shrieks, “I was sure you’d say yes. When do you bring your stuff?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. I don’t have much, so it will be very easy.”

“Nothing heavy? Cause we can ask Brandon to help, you know.”

“Oh, no, probably just two suitcases.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then. Can’t wait.” I like her exuberance. She really seems like a very easygoing person. No drama. No nonsense.

I go home to check up on Mika. I let her out of the crate and we do some obedience exercises for half an hour. She gets her food and water. I make a simple Caesar salad for myself. I play with the croutons in my bowl while I mull over the day so far. I now have a place to stay. Roof over my head, check. This afternoon, I’m filing my application at the hospital. Paige guarantees that it’ll just be a formality, so I tick off the most important thing on my mental list. Income for my daily needs, check.

At the hospital, I go directly to Human Resources, where I’m asked to fill up around ten forms. The manager, Mr. Padilla, is on vacation, but one of his assistants, Pamela, is going through the entire process with me. Apparently, Doctor Murphy has already spoken to Mr. Padilla about me, and it’s a foregone conclusion that I’ll be getting the job. I conclude that it’s a good thing to know people in high places.

“Emma, when you’re done, I can bring you to the Records Section and introduce you to some people,” Pamela says.

“Thank you. I’ll let you know once I’m done. But don’t I need to undergo a background check or some other test before that?”

“We’ll do that after you start working. Doctor Murphy has vouched for you. Friend of the family?” I nod and say a silent prayer of thanks to Paige’s Dad.

“I’ll be back. Let me just go check on something,” she tells me, and then goes out of the room for a while.

I’m faced with the same dilemma as before. Should I tell the truth and say I’m divorced (at least soon to be) or married? Since Doctor Murphy knows my story, I guess I’ll just put in ‘married’ in the box for status. There are privacy statements and a request for release of information forms, among other things. After half an hour, Pamela is back and I’ve managed to complete the paperwork.

“I’m sorry I took so long. I had to talk to an intern who’s having trouble with one of her requirements.”

“No problem. I just finished right now.”

She quickly scans the papers and then says, “Everything seems to be in order. Now, if you will follow me…” She stands up and leads the way. We move through several corridors. The hospital is like a maze of big and small rooms. We reach a room at the end of the west wing. The door simply says ‘Records.’ Pamela pushes the door and lets me through first.