Peter
I plug my phone into charge and back out of my parking spot. It’s 4:00 in the morning and it’s fucking cold. As I pull out of the complex, I wonder if that text came off a bit too angry. Maybe I should have waited until after I’ve had my first cup of coffee…Or at least until a later hour in the morning.
Mr. Vorhees lives approximately 20 minutes from me, and of course in the opposite direction of the bakery, adding about 40 minutes onto my normal commute. At the very least, it gives me extra time to sort out my thoughts in the morning…Which I clearly didn’t do. Why the hell did I text her that? Now she’s definitely not going to move into the apartment. I’m sure Danny wouldn’t appreciate her presence anyway…Danny…Crap. I wonder if he’s still mad about last night.
Worries and stress fill my head until I pull up in front of a rather large home in a nice neighborhood. The mailbox is clearly marked with the number 36, so I know I’m at the right address. As I approach the door, I notice the garbage has been ripped apart. Damn raccoons. That’s the one good thing about the big dumpster at our apartment. It’s not my problem.
In front of the door there is a large black bag. A piece of paper is taped to the siding of the home. “LAUNDRY,” is written in all capital letters, and there’s an arrow pointing down toward the bag.
I ring the bell and sway back and forth between my toes and heels, hoping this will somehow keep my joints from freezing. Mr. Vorhees doesn’t answer. I ring the bell again and press my ear to the door. I don’t hear anything. This bell doesn’t work. I knock on the door loudly.
“Coming, coming!” I finally hear.
I stand outside for about five minutes, and still, he doesn’t come to the door. What the fuck. We’re going to be late. I mean, it’s his business, not mine, so I don’t care much. It’s just so fucking cold.
I knock again
“MR. VORHEES! CAN I COME IN?!”
“Coming!”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
He finally opens the door, clutching the knob in one hand and his cane in the other.
“I’m running a bit late this morning,” he says as his glasses slide down his nose.
“It’s alright, but it’s pretty cold out here, you know?”
“Come in, come in.” He walks further into the home feebly, and I follow. What the—
His house is falling apart. This big, beautiful home has done some downward spiraling of its own. There’s trash on the floor, cobwebs and dust hang from the corners of the ceiling, and there’s the pungent smell of old people and rotten fruit.
“Don’t mind the mess,” he says as he heads down a long hall. “And please, make yourself comfortable.”
I look down at a ripped and stained loveseat. I don’t think I’ll be sitting down. As he disappears down the hall, I investigate the home further. I find a pile of papers on a small side table. These look like overdue bills. I shuffle through them. One’s a termination notice from Optimum. I hold tight to it and put the others back down.
With the notice in hand, I meander into the kitchen. This is where the strange smell is coming from. I notice a cloud of fruit flies circling a bowl of brown bananas. Why does he live like this? I know he’s disabled, deaf, maybe even a bit forgetful, but he doesn’t have dementia, does he? I mean, he runs a business, and he does it fairly well. So far I’ve been getting paid on time.
“Hungry?”
I’m startled. I close my eyes as I turn around. Sometimes, if I press my eyes shut hard enough, he goes away. I open my eyes quickly as I inhale and puff out my chest, but it’s not the ghost, it’s just Mr. Vorhees.
“You scared me.”
“Did you think I was the boogie monster?”
“Something like that…Hey, Mr. Vorhees, I don’t want to be rude—”
“But?”
“But…why do you have brown bananas on the counter?”
“You know that’s the first ingredient for banana bread, son.”
“I don’t think you can use these to make banana bread anymore…Also…I saw this.”
I hand him the termination notice from Optimum. He looks down at the document, and then back up at me in disapproval.
“Why are you rummaging through my belongings, Peter?”
“I—I wasn’t, really. Well, I was, but just because—”
“Because what?”
“I’m a little…concerned.”
“About me?”
“Yes.”
“About the way I live?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t like watching TV anyway, that was all Dianna.”
“Dianna?”
“My wife.”
“Is she uhm…”
“She’s dead. We need to get going now. You’re going to make us both late.”
“My apologies,” I say. “Are you ready to go?”
“Sure am.”
We both get into my car. It’s a long and silent drive to work. It’s cold but I’m sweating. My heart races. I hope he doesn’t think I was judging him. Well, I was, but I— I feel bad about it.
“Don’t outlive your people, Peter.” He breaks the silence.
“Huh?”
“Don’t outlive everyone you love. My wife, my son…Both gone.”
“Oh…I’m so sorry—”
“No need to apologize. Just a word of advice, take it from me.”
“Well, you have me now.” I say it without thinking. I already have a teenager, am I ready to adopt an old man?
“Thank you for that, but I’m doing just fine.”
I sigh in relief. I don’t think I could fit anymore into my schedule. Then again, can I really leave him in the condition he’s in? Will my conscience let me?
“Of course I won’t!” I hear that small voice, the angel on my shoulder. I know Adair is with us in the backseat.
Hayley
“I wanted to show you this.” I hold my cellphone up in front of my case manager’s face. She takes it from my hand and scrolls down the screen slowly and intently.
Everleigh is in her carrier right beside me. She’s quiet for now, and so I focus my full attention on the conversation at hand. I lean forward against the desk between the case manager and me. I look down at my phone in her hands and then back up at her face. She’s being very quiet. “You see the price?”
“I do,” she says without looking away from the screen. “Facebook Marketplace though?”
“You told me to do some research.”
“You’re right, and I’m glad you took my advice.” She puts the phone down on her desk and pushes it to me. “But you have to vet these things. If it’s too good to be true…”
I reach up and comb through my hair with my fingers. Crap, It’s so knotted. When’s the last time I brushed it? What were we talking about? Right, the price. I pick my phone up. “I mean, is $1000 really that good?”
I appreciate her opinion, but I don’t want to hear it. It’s time for Everleigh and me to move on, out of this shelter…even if it is just a shitty and possibly illegal basement apartment, we’ll make do. I just have to get out of this situation.
“I have no problem taking you to look at it, Hayley.”
“So you think it’s good?”
“I didn’t say that. I said that I’d set up transport for you to look at it.”
“Right.” I sit back in my chair. Fuck
“Have you contacted the homeowner?”
“I wanted to show you the listing first.”
“That makes sense. Reach out to the homeowner to schedule an appointment.”
“OK,” I pick up my phone and start typing a message. Hm… wait. “Should I tell him about Everleigh?”
“I think so, but spin it in a positive light.”
“Huh? How?”
“For example, write—write that you’re a single mother looking for an apartment to raise her baby. Add in something about how you won’t have any guests, that you work full-time, and have day care services.”
I can’t have any guests? Not that I would want anyone in my home right now, but would that really make my application more attractive? I guess I better listen to her. OK, no guests. I’ll make it sound like I plan on having a lonely, boring, pitiful life. That’s what everyone wants, right? I type again. Wait. “What if we get approved for one of those housing vouchers later on? Do you think he’ll accept it?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask. The worst that could happen is you’ll have to move.”
I start typing again.
“But not now though. Don’t ask him that yet,” she adds in.
I look back up at her and sigh loudly.
“Just read me what you wrote,” she says, swiveling back and forth in her chair, arms folded.
“Hi,” I begin. I read very quickly. I want to get this over with. “My name is Hayley. I am a single mother looking for a safe place to raise my baby. I work full time and have daycare services in place. We are quiet, and do not have visitors often—”
“Take out ‘often’.”
“We do not have visitors, period,” I continue. “Please let me know if the basement is still available for rent.”
“Good.”
“So send?”
“Yeah, send.”
I click the button and watch as the message is sent successfully. “Done.” I quickly lock my phone and shove it in my pocket. I hope he doesn’t answer too quickly… I mean, yes, I do hope he answers quickly, but this whole thing is just making me nervous!
“Great. Let me know when you hear back, and keep looking. Maybe something better will come along.”
“OK.” I stand up, grab Everleigh’s carrier, and head to the door of the conference room. I’m ready to go lie down and cuddle with my baby. Hopefully she’ll keep sleeping so that I can get a nap in too.
“Hayley, one more question.”
“Yes?”
“Do you understand the level of responsibility this is going to take?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?”
“I mean, I do.”
Wait. Do I? Can I do this? Now I’m not sure.
“We’ll talk more once you have an appointment to look at the place.” She picks up her pen and writes something in her notebook, most likely THIS GIRL SUCKS. Well, probably not that, but something like it. Maybe THIS GIRL BLOWS.
I leave the conference room. I’ve never lived on my own before. Maybe I won’t be able to do it. I’ll still have CPS for a bit…But—Do I even know how to pay an electric bill? I’ve never paid an electric bill! Also, getting to work is another problem because I still don’t have a fucking car! I’ll have to find the nearest bus stop… but how am I getting Everleigh to daycare? Fuck! What if it’s all too much for me? I stop walking and place Everleigh’s carrier down on the ground. I lean against the nearest wall. I feel a full-blown panic attack coming on. I’m gasping for air. How is anyone supposed to do this? Especially me? I can’t do this! I can’t fucking do this! I look at my cellphone. I find Peter’s name. I want to send him a text, but I decide to stay silent. I slam my phone to the ground. With that, Everleigh starts crying.
“FUCK!” My hands shake as I reach into the pocket of my jeans. I know I shouldn’t be spending money on cigarettes, but what else do I have? I search in my other pockets for my lighter. Is it even on me?! Where the fuck is it? My eyes close as I take a deep breath. I need to slow down. After a moment of calm, I find my lighter in the pocket of my hoodie.
I stick a cigarette in my mouth and try and try to light it. Everleigh continues to scream. Is this fucking thing out of lighter fluid? WHAT THE FUCK!? I throw the lighter and watch as the pink plastic shatters on the sidewalk.
“I GET IT! I fucking GET it! OKAY?! Haven’t I had ENOUGH?!” I stand and reach toward the sky, as if I have any right to yell at God for all of this.
Everleigh continues her fit. I catch myself wallowing in my own pity and look around to see if anyone is watching. Luckily, there’s no one in sight. I pick up the carrier and rush toward my unit. It’s probably best that I bargain with God from the privacy of my own room.
Danny
When I walk into my bedroom, I launch my backpack into the wall. I printed out a picture of a target on the library computer at school and hung it right next to my desk. If I could find a picture of Tristian, I’d paste it right in the center where the bullseye is…But I can’t find him on Instagram, or Snapchat, or anything like that! It’s like he doesn’t even exist. Anyway, I like to hit a bullseye with my backpack when I get home. It just feels right. Peter gets mad every single time I do it, so I wait for him to come to my bedroom yelling. This time, he doesn’t come. What’s he up to?
I find him in the spare bedroom. He’s taking Hayley’s clothes out of the closet.
“I threw my backpack at the wall, you know.” I smirk, waiting for his response.
“Brilliant,” he says, continuing to fold her shirts and pants up neatly into a cardboard box that says Home Depot on it.
“Can we burn those?” I ask, pointing.
“No. We don’t have a fireplace.”
Like that would stop me.
“Can we make a huge fire outside and burn them?”
He sighs really loudly. “No, there are no fires allowed in this complex and you know it.” He sits on the floor and picks up a huge roll of tape. He tapes the first box shut.
“Can we go to a campsite—”
“Nope. We are not burning anything, anywhere, at any time.” He stands up and pushes the box against the wall.
“You didn’t even let me finish my sentence!”
It would be pretty fun to make a big fat fire out of all of Hayley’s things. I think it would make me feel better too. He didn’t even let me get to the best part! We could roast hotdogs over the flame. When’s the last time we had a good hotdog? This freakin’ apartment doesn’t even let us have a barbecue grill!
“Go on, finish your sentence.” He goes back into the closet, like he doesn’t even care about my idea.
“Hotdogs. We could have hotdogs.”
“What?” He stops taking things off of hangers and turns around and looks at me like I’m weird and stupid.
“Never mind. I don’t even care anymore! You never listen to good ideas anyway,” I say, flopping down onto the bed.
He stays quiet. The closet is nearly empty. What the hell is he doing? Why is he packing all this shit up?
“Why are you packing up all her stupid crap?” I ask, sitting up.
“To make some room.”
“Room for what?”
“We’ll talk about this later. What do you want for dinner? Do you want to go to Applebee’s?”
Not freakin’ Applebee’s! Why is he offering to take me out to dinner? Oh no. I don’t like it. I DON’T LIKE IT!
“What’s going on?!” I sit up straight.
“We can talk about it at Applebee’s.”
“I DON’T WANT APPLEBEES!” I yell, jumping off the bed. I walk to him, but he’s still inside of the closet gathering little shit from the top shelf. He’s not even facing me while I’m trying to talk to him. I put my hands on his shoulders and forcefully twist him around.
“Why don’t you want Applebee’s?” he asks.
“Why are we going out to dinner? What’s going on?” I shake him lightly.
“We can’t just go to dinner? Something has to be going on?”
“YES! This is what you do! You do things like this!”
“Do things like what?”
“OH MY GOD, EXACTLY!”
I walk back over to the bed and fall down face first. I’m so tired of his shit. JUST TELL A PERSON WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON! I lay motionless on the bed, but he doesn’t even freakin’ care! I kick my legs loudly and fastly into the mattress to get his attention.
“Danny, cut it out,” he says. I hear him rip another piece of tape off the roll. He’s closing up another box.
“You never tell me freakin’ anything!” I scream into the mattress.
“OK. I’ll tell you. Someone’s moving in with us.”
What the actual freaking fucking shit! No! I jump back up off the bed and run over to him. I lean down to talk right in his face.
“NOT HAYLEY, RIGHT?”
“If it was Hayley, why would I be packing away her clothes?”
That’s true…
“I don’t care…Doesn’t even matter! I don’t want anyone moving in here. Oh my God, wait, is it that old dude you’ve been helping out? No. No old people. Old people smell like crap. No way.”
“It’s not Mr. Vorhees, but also, you need to respect your elders. There’s a lot you can learn from the older generation. When you meet him, you’ll like him. He’s a very nice guy. I told him all about you. He wants to meet —”
“Oh my God, so it is him! I knew it! This isn’t a nursing home, Peter!” I look up at the ceiling and cover my eyes with my hands. I don’t want a grandpa!
“I just said it is not Mr. Vorhees. Will you calm down? Do you want to go for a walk?”
“No! I don’t want to go for a walk! I want to know who’s moving into the apartment! Why do we always need to have someone else in here! Remember when you told me it was just you and me for now on? You LIED again!”
“I didn’t lie, Danny. It would just be nice to have someone to split the rent with. It’s expensive to live here.” He pushes the second box up against the wall and rubs his chin. “I don’t know where I’m going to store these. Maybe I can fit them in my closet.”
“Why, so you can SNIFF THEM every day?”
He rubs his head like he’s the one stressed out, but I am the one that is stressed out here! I squeeze my hands into fists as tightly as I can. The pressure and pain relieve my anger a little bit.
He bends down and smells the boxes. What the hell? Weirdo!
“This cardboard is smell proof. Too bad.”
“You’re not funny, and I want to know who is moving in here, right now!”
“Kara. My friend Kara. She’s going to stay here to help us cover some bills.”
A GIRL?! ANOTHER FREAKIN’ GIRL.
“No way! Absolutely not! I am putting my foot down!”
“Excuse me?”
“No more girls!”
“She’s not like Hayley, Danny. She’s very kind. I think you’ll like her if you give her a chance.”
“No, I won’t! I already hate her!”
“You haven’t met her yet.”
“Peter, NO!” I punch the wall, but not hard enough to make a hole or anything like that. Just hard enough to make a noise.
“It’s already done, Danny.”
He’s such a moron! I don’t want to talk to him, or look at him, or sit with him in stupid freakin’ Applebee’s! Why do I never have a say in anything! I go back to my room and pick my backpack up off the floor. I throw it at the target again, and again, and again. I keep throwing it until I hear him yell, “KNOCK IT OFF IN THERE.” Then, I throw it one more time for good measure. He can’t stop me from doing that.