Jesus, Mom, why would you not talk to me before speaking with Mere about tenants and rentals?
“I don’t think that’s what Oscar has in mind.” I look at Mere, trying to tell her this is none of our business. But her face is upturned, and for the first time in days, she has a twinkle in her eyes, so different from how she was with me minutes ago.
Fuck! She is so excited with the idea of having someone in our home, but I can’t bring in someone new for her to get attached to. I need to invite my parents sooner.
“The loft is actually an extension of the main house,” I explain to Oscar, killing the hopeful expression on his face and my daughter’s. “It was built so that my parents could live with us when Mere was a baby. It doesn’t even have a separate entrance.”
Mere digs her fork into the salad and mumbles before picking at her food, “But it’s very open style with its own kitchenette and all.” She even finds an image of my parents in the loft on her cell phone and shows it to Oscar.
God, when did she become a real estate agent? Putting her phone back in her jeans pocket, she points toward the wooden stairs going up. “That’s the way to the loft. There is also a small balcony.”
“Mere—I,” I start, knowing I can’t bring a new temporary person into our home. It would do more damage to her than good.
“Keith, I really don’t care about the entrance or furnishing. For me, it’s important that my family does not go crazy with worry. I’d also sleep better knowing Clem is not alone with strangers in an unknown town.”
Fuck! What can of worms did Mere open? This feels like an ambush.
Oscar leans back. “Please don’t feel pressured.” Running his hand through his hair, he mutters, “She has lived for so long under my mother’s discipline, it scares me just thinking how she’ll manage on her own.”
I look at Mere, who is nibbling on her salad. She isn’t holed up in her room as other nights, and she might have talked the most tonight in over a month. “How old did you say your sister was?”
“Clem is twenty-five.”
Ah, the twenties. An age when I was enjoying life with my wife unaware that a few years later, she would be nowhere in sight.
Before I can drift further in those memories, I ask Oscar, “Would you like to see the loft?”
I hope I have the same wide smile that just lit his face when the new tenant arrives.
3
CLEMENTINE
Dear Miss Clementine,
As we haven’t received your identification document, previous pay stubs and reference letters from your past employer, we are unfortunately rejecting your application as a potential tenant in our apartment complex.
We wish you all the best with your house search.
Yours sincerely,
Patty Smith,
Real estate agent, Pepper Apartments.
I skim through the email that just popped up in my inbox.
Another rejection. Uff!
When I started my search for apartments in St. Peppers, I didn’t know it would be such an impossible task.
Why would someone not take me as a tenant?
I am nice, polite, I have a job for God’s sake. I’d no clue references and pay stubs make one a suitable tenant, not niceness. Now it’s three days until my start date with Vanshionista and to my homeless future.
I’d thought the one-month period between receiving the job offer letter and the actual starting would be filled with a myriad of emotions.
I was supposed to be overwhelmed with joy at finding a place in the first week. The second week was reserved for excitement of packing all my stuff. I was supposed to make long lists of things I should buy or take with me. The third week was to be claimed by burnout. And these last days were prebooked for nostalgia. I was supposed to cry with my sister, Florence, my best friend, Em, visit Gram at the bakery and tell her how much I’ll miss her.