“You can always stay. I don’t mind taking the spare room.”
“No. I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
He sighs with relief. “Yeah, me neither, but I didn’t want you to feel like I was kicking you out.”
Now I’m really starting to get annoyed.
“Just don’t worry about it. I’ll be out of here on Monday.”
“Hey, Chrissie, that’s not what I meant…”
“Forget it. You’re clearly only thinking about yourself right now. You know what? Move in, but I’m going to call the realtor and ask her to sell it for us. And just a little head’s up, I’m calling a lawyer too, so you should probably do the same.”
“Babe…”
I hang up.
What the hell? Did Corey just kick me out of our apartment and try to make me feel bad about it?
I phone City Realty and arrange for someone to visit on Monday to do an appraisal on the property. I then pick up the card Kahlua gave me with her lawyer’s contact details on the back. It’s his direct line, which apparently most people aren’t lucky enough to possess.
After chickening out twice, I finally call the number. I double check his name. Uri Goldberg.
A strong Bronx accent answers. “Yeah?”
“Um, hi. My name’s Chrissie Lambert. I got your name from Kahlua and I was hoping you might help me.”
He chuckles. “If you’re after the kind of help Kahlua wanted, you’re wasting your money. I don’t know why that broad even hired me. She ignored all my advice and came out with almost nothing except those damn kids.”
“Well, my husband is essentially kicking me out of our apartment, so I will listen to your advice.”
“Ah, sorry to hear that. You wanna divorce?”
“I don’t know. Are you able to explain the process to me?”
“Sure. I’ll put you through to my assistant and she’ll sort you out. I think I’ve got an opening on Monday, but Darla will confirm everything for you.”
“Thank you.” I wait to be transferred, feeling a sense of foreboding. There’s no going back now.
Afterwards, when I tell Penny about how Corey spoke to me on the phone, she is not impressed.
“I knew it,” she seethes. “He was always acting like the perfect, doting husband, but I just had a feeling something wasn’t right. Now I wonder if he was sucking up to you all those years out of guilt, and now that you know the truth, he knows he doesn’t have to try anymore.”
“Fuck, Penny! That’s really nice. Very supportive and exactly what I want to hear right now.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t believe he’s trying to make you move out. What a jerk!”
I start to cry. What Penny said did occur to me, but hearing her say it out loud makes it a million times worse.
She softens. “Hey, sis, I’m sorry. Look, let me help you pack. The spare room at our place is all ready for you. You can stay as long as you like.”
“Thank you,” I sniff.
She wraps her arm around my neck and tousles my hair. “Michelle and I will look after you.”
***
I feel like I’m getting swept along in a current towards an unpleasant destination. The thought crosses my mind that Corey might have been mentally preparing for this to happen for a while, so in theory, he could have already grieved for us and moved on. I just wish he’d wait for me to catch up.
By lunchtime on Monday, I have started the process of putting our apartment on the market. I am pleasantly surprised to discover it’s worth a bit more than what Corey and I paid five years ago. Combined with the amount we’ve already paid off the mortgage, we should come out of this quite well.
I text Corey to let him know. I don’t know how emotionally attached he is to our apartment, but at least if we sell it, he’ll have enough money to pay off his credit card and rent another place.
At 2p.m. I have my appointment with Uri to find out how a divorce works. The whole process is a bit overwhelming, but if Corey is reasonable, I should get through it okay. Although, right now, I’m not going to assume anything.
I collect all the necessary paperwork, and start filling it out. And then I find it’s getting late, which means I need to leave the apartment to avoid running into Corey as he’s moving back in.
Which is how I find myself surrounded by haphazardly packed boxes at Penny’s later that evening. Her spare room is tiny, but I’m grateful for anything right now.
Michelle comes in to check on me and offers me a cider. I gratefully accept and then wonder if I’m turning into an alcoholic. I think after tonight, I should probably go on a detox.
“Thanks 'Chelle. I appreciate you putting me up.”
“No problem. We owe you for all the times we’ve crashed at your place in between moves and trips.”
“You’re family. That’s what we do.”
She laughs. “Don’t go getting all mushy on me now. Hey, the girls are coming over soon. Do you want to watch The Bachelor with us?”
I freeze. “Which girls?” Penny somehow forgot to mention this pertinent fact earlier.
“Rochelle, Anna and Bridget.”
I instantly feel queasy. “Rochelle?”
“Oh, that’s right. You almost made out with her, didn’t you?” Michelle teases.
“God, don’t remind me. Apparently I hit on Anna too.”
“Don’t worry about it. They probably won’t remember.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. I puked on both of them.”
“I’m sure they’ll forgive you.”
I shake my head. “I think I’ll just stay in my room and unpack. Or maybe I’ll go out.”
“Where would you go? It’s almost seven.”
“I don’t know. The gym?”
“Do you even go to the gym?”
“No, but I could join. I’m sure I read that it gets the endorphins flowing and helps you overcome depression.”
“Watching The Bachelor and doing shots every time someone says the word journey has the same effect.”
“I’ll think about it.”
She smiles kindly. “It’s going to be okay, Chrissie. Eventually. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you’ll get through this.”
“I know. Thanks.”
“I apologize for sounding like a Hallmark card, but then everything sounds trite when you’re going through something like this.”
I laugh. “Yeah, and I don’t think they make a card that says I’m sorry to hear your husband might be gay.”
“They totally should though, don’t you think?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to get settled in, but please consider joining us for the show.”
“Okay.”
I watch her leave. I really like Michelle. She’s so chilled out. She’s helped mellow out my sister a lot. Penny used to be a total stress head (I think it runs in the family), but after meeting Michelle, she became so much more relaxed. Penny and I still revert to our adolescent states when we’re alone, but I’ve noticed a huge difference in the way she interacts with everyone else nowadays.
I take a sip from my bottle of cider and look around the room. The only furniture in here is a double bed with a lumpy mattress, a portable garment rack and a dusty dresser. Nevertheless, it’s time to think positive. I unpack a box and put some of my clothes in the dresser drawers. Just the simple act of moving my stuff feels like a step in the right direction. I then head out into the kitchen to look for a sponge to clean the top of the dresser. Thankfully no one has arrived yet.
I’m just about to have a go at Penny for not telling me about the girls coming over, when I see something on her hall table.
“Why did you bring that awful music box from my place?” I ask her.
She looks over. “Oh, that. Yeah, that’s mine. I got invited to the baby shower too.”
I stare at her. “I didn’t even know you knew Jen.”
“Well, obviously I didn’t hang out wi
th her at school because I was so much younger than you guys, but I met up with her about a year ago when I was promoting a charity event she was organizing.”
“How come you didn’t tell me?”
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“That you’re now friends with one of my best friends from school?”
“Yeah. So?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I just thought you might have mentioned it.”
“Well I RSVP’d for both of us already, so we can go together.”
“Wait, what? No! I’m not going.”
“Yes you are. It’s all set.”
“Penny! Have you not considered what a complete nightmare that would be for me? I don’t want to be surrounded by all those women with their rich husbands and perfect children!”
“It’ll be fun. Believe me, those women will wish they were you. You still have a rocking body and you can sleep in as much as you want. Plus, you have a glamorous job.”
“It won’t be like that at all! I’ll have to put up with all the bitchy girls pretending to be jealous, but they’ll secretly be glad they have heterosexual husbands.”
“No one knows about Corey.”
“News travels fast in this town.”
“Stop it, you’re being silly. You’re coming with me and that’s final. Do it for Jen. She’s your friend. It’s her special occasion, remember?”
I guiltily take a gulp of cider. She’s right. I shouldn’t let my feelings get in the way of congratulating an old friend.
“Okay. But we’re leaving from here together. I’m not meeting you there.”
“Sure.” She looks behind me. “Oh, hi Rochelle!”
I feel my face get hot. It’s too late to hide. I press myself against the wall, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible.
Rochelle comes over and strokes my cheek. I smile at her nervously.
“How’re you doing, sweetheart?” she asks.
“Fine. Er, sorry about that night at the club.”
“Forget it. Shit happens. Hey, you look great tonight.”
My smile becomes genuine. “Stop it.” I am literally only wearing a pair of old jeans and a black tank top. And then I realize I’m not wearing a bra. Oh God. What if she thinks I did it on purpose?
I try to cover my chest without looking too obvious.
“And I don’t know how you get your hair to always look so amazing. I wish mine was like that. I have to spend hours most days just to get it half decent.” She pats her immaculately styled waves.
“Well, it looks great,” I say automatically. I can’t help it. She’s so beautiful.
I’m saved from any further awkwardness by Anna and Bridget arriving together.
Anna doesn’t notice me because she has her phone’s loudspeaker playing the Jason Derulo song “Wiggle”.
“Oh my God, will you turn that crap off?” Penny groans. “What is it with you and that music?”
“What music?” I ask.
“Anna is obsessed with dirty lyrics.”
“I just find them funny,” Anna says. “Except I’m confused about one line in this song. Do you know what a Justin Bieber wiggle is? Is it like the Harlem Shake?”
Penny looks at her blankly. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s a line here…” She quickly rewinds it for us to listen to. “…and I’m wondering why he’s talking about Justin Bieber.”
We all listen closely for a moment. And then Penny bursts out laughing.
“It doesn’t say Justin Bieber! Anna, you need to ask Google before you say stuff like that.”
She smiles good-naturedly and opens the browser on her phone. After a second, she starts laughing too.
“Oh, right! Cool.” She continues reading the lyrics on her screen. “And what’s this about ham sandwiches?”
“I think you need Urban Dictionary for that one,” Penny says, grinning.
“Actually, I don’t think I want to know.”
Penny makes a sweeping motion with her hands to move us all over to the TV. “Come on, The Bachelor is about to start.”
I find myself relaxing after that. I take it easy on the cider and sit on the floor to watch the show with everyone.
It turns out to be a fun evening, and I realize that even though things seem kind of bleak right now, my life isn’t as bad as the ones on this show. Those poor women pour their hearts out, only to then get dumped on national television.
It’s all about perspective.
EIGHT
Penny is sitting on her Ikea bar stool watching me make pancakes. She’s never been very good at cooking, so the kitchen is normally Michelle’s domain. Back when I lived in my own apartment, the kitchen was my domain too. Corey refused to cook for us after doing it all day at his restaurant, but I always felt a bit intimidated making stuff for him. He never said anything, yet I got the feeling I often fell short of his expectations.
As I pour batter into the frying pan, Penny browses a clothing website on her iPad. I’ve been living here for over three weeks now and this seems to be our thing whenever Michelle is out. Me in the kitchen. Penny being lazy.
“You know what you should do?” she says suddenly.
“About what?” I adjust the temperature on the stove.
“Your living situation. While you’re waiting for the apartment to sell, maybe you should ask Corey to get a roommate. That way, someone else can pay your share of the mortgage and you can find a place of your own.”
“Don’t you want me here anymore?”
“Oh, stop it. You know we’re happy for you to stay as long as you like, but I’m not sure you want to stay here long term. I’ve seen you looking at Craigslist. It’s okay. I’m not offended. I’d be the same.”
“I just don’t want to wear out my welcome. And it does seem a bit unfair that I’m paying for a place I can’t even live in. Who knows how long it will take to sell? It might be months before we get a buyer.”
“Exactly. It’s half your apartment, so you have rights. I say tell Corey to find someone, and if he hasn’t done it within a month, he has to pay the full mortgage himself.”
“Yeah, I guess. He’s been behaving so weird lately that I just don’t know if I can rely on him anymore.”
“You can’t. Give him the ultimatum and then do whatever you have to do.”
To be honest, I am quite peeved. Corey has been acting really strangely since I moved out and he moved back in. I’ve tried calling him a few times to talk about the apartment sale and his thoughts on divorce, but he ends all our conversations abruptly and won’t commit to anything. It’s so frustrating. It’s like he’s morphed into this completely different person. I know he must be struggling, but he can’t keep avoiding me forever.
“All right. I’ll text him and give him the option to find someone, and then I’ll start looking around for somewhere myself. I do really appreciate you putting me up, though.”
“I know. You don’t have to justify wanting to get on with your life. Besides, it must be confusing when Rochelle comes over,” she says, winking.
“Leave me alone,” I moan.
“There’s nothing wrong with having a crush on a woman.”
“I don’t have a crush! I just think she’s pretty, and it’s flattering she likes my hair.”
She laughs. “You keep telling yourself that.”
I message Corey and let him know the plan. I then finish making the pancakes, serving up a couple for both Penny and me, and get on my computer to browse for available rooms on Craigslist.
There are a few possibilities, which is encouraging. I figure it can’t hurt to contact some of them and see what it’s like out there. I narrow it down to three.
The first apartment belongs to a girl called Helen who lives a couple of blocks from Penny and Michelle in a converted warehouse. It looks and sounds awesome, but it’s slightly out of my budget. I’ll have to find out if she’s negotiable.
The second place is owned by a woman called Susan. She sounds a lot older on the phone than the age listed in her ad, but I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.
And when I call about the third listing, the guy doesn’t answer his phone. His name is Brad and he lives in a three bedroom place with another guy. They might not want a female roommate, but I figure it can’t hurt to ask. I leave a message asking him to contact me if the room is still available.
Helen said I could come over right away, so I quickly go and change. I want to look like I’m not trying too hard, but still show I’m a young and vibrant contributor to society.
I head out the door via Penny and do a little twirl. “What do you think?”
“I’d call that look hot hipster. Is that what you’re going for?”
“Maybe the hot part. The hipster bit, not so much.” Nobody wants to be called a hipster. Or do they? For all I know, it’s a desirable thing these days.
“Well, whatever it is, you look great.”
I’ve chosen a pair of denim shorts with a vintage t-shirt, fitted combat jacket and suede fringed ankle boots. I saw a similar look in a magazine recently and it goes really well with aviator glasses and some chunky gold jewelry.
I walk the few blocks to Helen’s building, impressed by my surroundings before I even get inside. Everything is so fancy. Even the trees on the sidewalk are perfect.
I press a button on the intercom.
“Come up,” she calls.
I ride up in the quiet, carpeted elevator and knock on her door. Each floor appears to only have one apartment. Nice.
A tiny girl with a lithe figure greets me. Her dark hair is cropped into a short bob and she’s wearing an expensive-looking yoga outfit.
“Oh, hey, I was just finishing my session. Come in.”
I wonder what kind of session she’s referring to.
She glides into the large cavernous space like a ballerina.
“So it’s very open plan,” she says, indicating the lack of walls. There are a couple of Chinese silk screens dividing up parts of the floor, presumably with bedrooms behind them.
“I’m ideally looking for someone who is very quiet and isn’t really here much. And of course they have to be vegetarian. I can’t handle the smell of flesh cooking in my kitchen.”
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