If These Walls Could Talk

by Bettye Griffin

  “She and Lemuel might be able to help you. Remember, Denise works for a social service agency.”

  Dawn remained adamant. “No, Veronica,” she repeated firmly. “Forget it.”

  Chapter 49

  The Currys

  November 2005

  Camille removed the pillows from Arnelle’s sofa and spread a sheet over the bottom cushions. She’d already put Shayla to bed in Tiffany’s room.

  When faced with going either to her father’s apartment in Inwood or to Arnelle’s in Gun Hill, she chose the latter, simply because it was closer to Reuben’s mother’s apartment, where Reuben and Mitchell were staying.

  As she suspected, Arnelle had hedged when Reuben initially asked if she would take them in. When he’d mentioned they were prepared to give her a hundred dollars a week to compensate her for the inconvenience, Arnelle’s excuses of why the arrangement wouldn’t work suddenly disappeared. Reuben didn’t give his mother a set dollar amount, but he paid for the groceries and gave her fifty dollars here and there.

  To Camille’s surprise, both their families had expressed sympathy at their plight. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Brenda had said when she learned they could no longer afford to keep their house. “It really was a beautiful house.”

  Saul, recently engaged to his girlfriend, couldn’t resist making a cutting remark. After acknowledging what a tough break they’d had, he added, “But I hope you guys aren’t expecting your old apartment back,” before saying with a casual shrug, “I guess, on behalf of the borough of the Bronx, I should say welcome home.”

  “Nobody’s expecting your family to move out of your apartment,” Reuben responded sharply, “so I think you should just shut the fuck up.”

  Camille listened to the exchange with tight-lipped anger. She could have happily poured some disinfectant into Saul’s drink. He didn’t have to say that, damn it.

  Camille felt relieved that at least she didn’t have to hear any remarks along the lines of, ‘That’s what you get when you get too big for your britches.’ She’d gotten Shayla enrolled in school and they saw Reuben and Mitchell a couple of times a week, but she longed for the day when they would have a place of their own again.

  She tried to put aside every penny she could, but she worried about their credit. It would take years before the black mark of foreclosure would be removed from their histories. They’d opted to put their belongings in storage in Pennsylvania, where the bill was slightly lower than in New York, but it still cost hundreds of dollars each month to store all their household belongings. Lemuel and Norman had helped with the move. Camille knew that Marianne Willis could probably determine from the resources at her disposal that their house was in preforeclosure status, but she nonetheless told the neighbors that she and Reuben were selling their house and moving to southern New Jersey to accommodate Reuben’s new job. No one challenged her story. If they’d heard otherwise from Marianne, they didn’t let on.

  Reuben did have a new job, and not with his old employer. He was a grocery manager at a twenty-fourhour supermarket in southern Westchester, part of a huge chain that paid him a better salary than he’d earned previously. It was a step in the right direction, but it would still take some time before they would have enough money to rent an apartment and move at least some of their belongings from the storage unit in Pennsylvania.

  They still maintained contact with the old neighborhood other than the monthly storage bill they received. Camille met Dawn for lunch occasionally. Dawn usually said things like, “It’s not the same without you.”

  She said this again as they carried their salads and drinks to a table at a Quizno’s on Third Avenue.

  “Well, you still have Veronica and Denise.”

  “Yes, but I’m realizing I don’t have a whole lot in common with them.” Dawn shrugged. “They both seem to be doing so well. Denise and Lemuel just had their basement done.”

  Camille tried not to feel jealous. “I’ll bet it’s beautiful.”

  “It’s gorgeous. They’ve got a pool table down there and a new crescent-shaped sectional sofa opposite a big-screen TV. We played cards with them last weekend, and then we did karaoke. And Veronica and Norman are screening in their patio. You know, Milo and I have been in our house three years, and all we’ve done is paint.”

  “That’s because you’ve had to spend money on repairs, for your closet and twice for your backyard,” Camille pointed out.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Camille sensed that Dawn wasn’t telling her everything, but she didn’t press.

  “How’s the apartment hunt going?”

  Camille brightened. “Now that Reuben’s working, we hope to be in a place of our own within sixty days. Reuben wants to make sure that we can manage the first and last months’ rent and the security deposit, plus the cost of transporting our furniture from Pennsylvania to New York.”

  “Will you get all your furniture?”

  “No. We’ll have to sell whatever won’t fit. Reuben says it doesn’t make sense to keep paying to store it. It’s expensive, which makes it impractical, since we don’t know how long we’ll need to keep it there.” In her heart Camille suspected they would never again live in a home of their own, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words aloud. It hurt too much to consider just how much she and Reuben had lost. Instead she said, “He’s talked to a consignment shop about letting them sell it for us.”

  “That’s too bad, but he’s got a point. If you keep your stuff in storage long enough you’ll be paying for it all over again.”

  Camille nodded. Thinking of all her beautiful furniture being sold—her dining room table and matching server, her family room sofa, chairs, and accent tables—made her want to weep. And what about the kids’ bedroom furniture? “I can’t believe how much rents have gone up,” she said. “It’ll probably cost us two grand a month just for a two-bedroom apartment. No way can we afford three bedrooms.” She shook her head sadly. “I hate to ask Mitchell to share a room with his little sister again. And which set of furniture do we keep? His bedroom is masculine and Shayla’s is all frills.”

  “I’m sorry, Camille. I wish I could do something to help you guys.”

  She reached across the table to pat Dawn’s hand.

  Chapter 50

  The Youngs

  January 2006

  Dawn stared at the notice from the county clerk’s office. The bank had won a foreclosure judgment against her. That meant they’d be able to sell her house.

  She and Zach would have to leave.

  She’d given it her best shot, and she’d lost.

  What a piss-poor way to start the year. Damn it, she’d been so certain that with everything she’d done she would at least be able to hold on to the house after Milo left last May. All those cost-cutting measures she’d undertaken, like cutting back to basic cable and staying in New York during the week to save carfare, the latter which she’d always feel guilty about. But in the end, she hadn’t lasted seven months. There just wasn’t enough money to keep up with the mortgage plus all her other bills. When she did pay the mortgage she couldn’t pay her other bills, and the phone rang constantly with what creditors called “courtesy” calls reminding her that her scheduled payment hadn’t yet been received. She’d had to instruct Zach not to answer the phone unless he recognized the number in the caller ID. Then her creditors started calling her at work, and she would bring her accounts up to date, in the process falling behind on the mortgage.

  In spite of her best efforts she’d fallen several months behind on everything, and now she’d have to vacate.

  Milo would be affected by the foreclosure as well. He told her that he’d learned removing his name from the deed wouldn’t legally absolve his obligation to pay the note each month, so he left his name intact. But the knowledge that a foreclosure would go on Milo’s credit report as well provided cold comfort to Dawn. He’d already gotten his life back on track, having rented a studio in Fort Greene prior
to the foreclosure. Would she even be able to rent an apartment with a foreclosure on her credit report, plus all those red flags that she’d paid her credit cards late? And even if someone did rent to her, how would she manage to pay rent if she hadn’t been able to pay her mortgage?

  The cold, hard truth was that she would be forty-two years old this year, and she had nothing.

  Dawn sealed up another box. “Where will we go, Mom?” Zack asked.

  “You’ll have to stay with your father, now that he has an apartment. I’ll continue staying with Lynn. It shouldn’t be too long until I can get an apartment, no longer than sixty days at the most.”

  “Will I be able to live with you then?”

  “Yes, that’s the plan.”

  Dawn wondered how successful that arrangement would be. She knew from discussions with Carmen Triggs when Milo was still staying there that he frequently went out on Friday and Saturday nights, and most Sundays as well. Instinctively she knew he wasn’t spending that time alone. He was seeing someone, someone he’d probably been thinking of in the months before he actually moved out, like when he never seemed to be paying attention to her, and when he made love to her with such zeal. He was probably fantasizing about some other woman....

  “What about Stormy?”

  She hesitated. If only Stormy were smaller. “I’ll do my best to find an apartment that allows pets. Your father’s building does, but I’m not sure how he’ll feel about it. Stormy is a large dog, and your daddy only has a one-room apartment.”

  “I’ll ask him.”

  “And you’d have to walk him every day, even if it’s pouring rain.”

  “I do that now. I don’t mind.”

  Dawn smiled. “I get the feeling you’re okay with our having to move, as long as you get to keep Stormy.” Never mind that it probably wouldn’t happen. She knew instinctively that Milo would never consent to having a full-grown bulldog in his tiny apartment. But she couldn’t break Zach’s heart again, not so soon after telling him they had to leave their home. She’d just have to deal with it later.

  “Mom, I figured that with Daddy gone you wouldn’t be able to hold on. I knew we were in trouble. I could see it in your eyes.”

  Zach’s words startled Dawn. Here she thought she’d managed to conceal her fears from him. But her son was growing up. He wasn’t some blissfully unaware kid she could snow with false assurances. He’d witnessed the tension building between her and Milo before Milo moved out, and now he’d just lost the last of his innocence. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out, Zach. I know you’re going to miss it out here,” she said sadly.

  “Will we go back to Brooklyn?”

  “At this point I’ll go anywhere I can afford that’s halfway decent.” She didn’t want to tell him that because middle income housing was so expensive, she’d probably only be able to get a one bedroom apartment. The bedroom would, of course, go to him. Still, she found it depressing, to be her age without even a bedroom to call her own.

  Even when she slept restlessly on her friend Lynn’s sofa, worrying about Zach all alone in Tobyhanna, she at least could take comfort in the knowledge that she owned a home a hundred miles away.

  Now she no longer had even that small consolation.

  March 2006

  Dawn hoped the combination of oversize sunglasses and tan fedora hid her identity as she approached her old building in Williamsburg. She knew that the buildings were in the midst of a transition to private ownership, but she nevertheless hoped that the management might be able to offer her an apartment. It was probably a futile effort, but it didn’t cost anything other than the price of a subway ride. And she had little else left to lose.

  She desperately needed an apartment of her own. Her friend and coworker Lynn Phillips had been wonderful about allowing her to camp out on her sofa when Dawn realized she had to save carfare, but staying there full-time wasn’t the same as staying there between Monday evening and Friday morning. Although Lynn was too polite to say as much, after nearly two months of staying with her friend seven days a week, Dawn sensed she’d overstayed her welcome. Milo must have felt this way after weeks turned into months while he stayed with Donald and Carmen Triggs.

  She knew from talking to Milo that he, too, felt a little crowded by having Zach stay with him at his studio. She couldn’t blame him—the apartment wasn’t meant to house two people—but she suspected that Milo’s eagerness to have Zach with her stemmed more from a wish to resume his social life than it did from feeling cramped. He could hardly entertain the female friend Dawn no longer doubted existed in the presence of his teenage son, nor could he spend nights at her place and leave Zach alone.

  On Milo’s advice, Dawn had enrolled in consumer credit counseling to get the interest rates on her credit cards reduced and to work out manageable monthly payments. They’d turned over most of their furniture to a consignment shop, who sold it for them. It meant having to turn over a hefty part of the proceeds to the shop, but neither of them could bear the thought of standing by as their former neighbors scrutinized their belongings at a garage sale. People would undoubtedly offer insultingly low prices, like $100 for their living room set or $25 for their beautiful patio furniture, and that would only serve to make them fighting mad.

  The pieces of their lives were falling into place. All she needed to do now was find an apartment.

  She entered the management office, which was accessible from the street, smiling when she recognized the fifty-something woman behind the counter. “Hello, Marie. Do you remember me? Dawn Young. I lived in the other building until about four years ago.”

  The plump face of the office employee shone with friendly recognition. “Yes, of course I remember. You and your husband bought a house out in Pennsylvania. How are you?”

  “Not all that good, to be honest. Things didn’t work out with the house, and my husband and I are separated. I came by to see if you had any vacancies here.”

  “Oh, you’ve moved back to the city?”

  “Yes. I still have my job here.”

  Marie looked properly solemn at this news. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you, Dawn. But I’m afraid I can’t help you. Even with the change-over to market rates, we’ve still got a waiting list.”

  She took the news with a knowing nod. “I thought as much. I wasn’t even sure I’d still find you here. I half expected they’d close the office.”

  “I won’t be here much longer. They’re going to move us in with the new owner’s other offices over on Bedford Avenue. But we feel fortunate that we still have jobs.”

  “I’m glad for you, Marie.” Dawn glanced around the office. She could glimpse a kitchen over to the right, and a partially closed door which she guessed held a bathroom.

  The idea, borne of desperation, came to her in a flash. “What will they do with this space?”

  Marie looked startled by the urgency in her tone. “I don’t really know. Nothing, I suppose. They’ll probably just lock it up and let the dust start accumulating. Why?”

  “Well, it has a kitchen and a bathroom. It could be an apartment.”

  Marie chuckled. “This isn’t exactly meant for residential use. The bathroom only has a toilet and a sink. No tub.”

  “Marie, I really need a place to live, even someplace without a bathtub.” The important thing was that this office was large enough for her and Zach to be comfortable. The office of the manager could be a bedroom for Zach. Not having a bathtub would present an inconvenience, but she knew life was far from perfect. She’d get an old-fashioned washtub, and they’d have to keep themselves clean that way. Isn’t that how the traditional Amish did it? She’d seen that old movie with Harrison Ford. “Would I be able to speak with someone about the possibility?”

  “I can speak with Mr. Crawford about it in the morning. He’s out of the office this afternoon. I know he remembers you. You and your family were good tenants.”

  “I’d appreciate it, Marie. My family and I did li
ve here for a long time, and I’m in desperate need for a place to live for my son and me. I don’t want to end up on the streets.” That last bit was overly dramatic—she could always go to her parents as a last resort and live with the ‘I told you so’s’—but she had to communicate how frantic she felt. “I know this doesn’t meet zoning regulations and all that, but if the buildings are privately owned, can’t management do what they want?”

  Marie took a moment to absorb this. “I certainly don’t want to see you and your son homeless, Dawn, and neither does Mr. Crawford. Why don’t you give me your number? I promise I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know.”

  Chapter 51

  The Currys

  April 2006

  “Camille, we have to talk. Right away.”

  She gripped the telephone receiver tightly as panic started in her belly and spread through her body. She tried to keep her voice down so her coworkers wouldn’t hear. “What is it, Reuben? Did anything happen to Mitchell?” Every night she thanked God that they were all healthy, even though they couldn’t afford to live together. Hadn’t they had enough hard times? Didn’t she feel like enough of a failure as a parent?

  “Mitchell is fine, but you tell your boss you have a family emergency and you have to leave. Or just tell him you don’t feel well. I don’t want to tell you this news on the phone, and we have to be alone.”

  Being alone was practically impossible, with him living at Ginny’s and her at Arnelle’s. “Reuben, can’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  “No. Come on, Camille,” he cajoled. “When’s the last time you called in sick—six months ago? You’ve got some time off due.”

  She couldn’t argue. All of her time off had been arranged in advance. She’d even been able to arrange for her own temporary replacement. George could manage for a half day without her.