But now everyone I meet only asks about my living situation, or the lack of it, and I’m stuck in the worry phase, which wasn’t even planned!
It appears I’ll have to expedite on nostalgia in the last two days and skip joy, excitement, and burnout all together.
“No luck?” Em asks for the third time today.
I met Em, aka Emilia, several years ago near Lake Cherry, a pivotal part of Cherrywood. It was spring and the lake was colored pink with fallen cherry blossoms. After she offered me a warm, friendly smile and her umbrella as unexpected rain hit us that day, we became best friends.
She introduced me to the spot near the lake called artist nest, which is presumably very popular among the painters and poets of Cherrywood, and since that day, we have spent numerous evenings at this very same spot, which we now call our nest.
Every time my phone buzzes, she looks at me expectantly.
“They all need references and pay stubs. What the hell is wrong with the world? How can I get pay stubs before starting a job?” My arms fold across my chest in annoyance.
“You are twenty-five.” She chuckles. “They expect you to have both.”
“What if one has never officially worked before? Does that mean people like me stand no chance of finding a place to live? We should live on the streets or what?” I really can’t imagine myself living on the streets. But staying at Hawthorne Mansion is definitely out of the question. So, streets it is!
“Fortunately, people like you, Clem, don’t really go around house hunting this way.” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively in a way only she can.
“This is so not fair. What happens if I can’t find a place?” I scratch my head, thinking about all my options. Turning around so fast that I almost get whiplash, I grab Em’s hands. “Can I stay with you and tell my family I’ve found an apartment in St. Peppers?”
Em thinks for a moment, proving why she is the best friend in this whole world. She never dismisses even the craziest of my ideas, like everyone else. “Is your mother also giving you a car?”
“No! I don’t want anything from Mom.” I point toward my phone. “I checked online. My salary, even during the three-month probation period, is above the average income of a young, single person in St. Peppers.”
“But if you plan to live with me and drive every day from Cherrywood to St. Peppers, you’ll need a car,” Em explains, her brows furrow as she thinks hard. “But I guess that’s not a possibility, now?”
My heart sinks as I shake my head. “I can’t have Scott driving me anymore.”
She nods and I know this is nothing but another impossible idea of mine.
A lump forms in my throat and I can feel my nose getting warm. God! What am I gonna do if I don’t find a place? Will I have to give up my job?
My cell phone rings and it’s Oscar.
Crap! My brother is definitely calling to ask about my house hunt as he has every other day for the past three weeks.
“I told you, I’ll call if I found a place.”
“And because you didn’t, I’m assuming you haven’t found one?” he asks in annoyance, when he already knows the answer to the question.
“No.” I scowl in irritation as if he can see my face.
“I found something.”
“You did?” I ask as my irritated brain realizes what he just said. “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Ozzie,” I shriek and jump off the bench, doing a happy dance in front of a confused Em.
He lets out a hearty laugh. “This might not be exactly to your expectations, but I know the owner and his daughter. There is a loft in their house which was made for family, so you might not have complete privacy. But I’m sure Keith will come up with the best arrangement.”
My entire body sags in relief as Oscar tells me about the loft and how it might not be my perfect, private nook. But he doesn’t know that at this point I don’t care. I just want the looming threat of spending my nights on the cold streets of St. Peppers to disappear.
I shiver at the images of living on the street, with sounds of howling dogs around.
“Thanks, Ozzie. I so want to hug you at this moment, but I’ll manage with Em instead.” I throw my arms around Em, who shares my giggles.
“You with your friend? There’s something else I wanted to tell you.” I sense an unusual hesitancy in my brother’s voice.
“What is it?” I ask, flopping back on the bench.