by LK Collins
Throwing the rest of the melted ice cream in the trashcan, I hear someone outside my door. Looking out the peephole, I don’t see anyone. Cracking the door open, I look down the hallway in either direction, but no one is there. I swear I heard someone. As I’m closing the door, I spot something on the ground that catches my eye. Lying on my doormat is a single white rose and a tiny gift bag. Looking in the bag, there is a card that reads, Starting some demo tomorrow, thought you could use these.
Looking up at me is a pair of earplugs, which probably cost five hundred dollars or some astronomical amount of money. And the son of a bitch still hasn’t apologized. Walking downstairs, I look for him to throw these at and notice he’s returned my bike after holding it hostage for almost a week. Knowing he likes to linger, I assume he’s still here. But everything is quiet, silent. Tossing the rose and ear buds into the dumpster, I walk back inside.
I’m infuriated with him thinking he can control me and tell me what to do all the time. Fuck him and everything he is. Slamming my door shut, I go straight to bed. So over everything from the day. Reaching for my lamp, a letter from my mom on my nightstand closes with, Always be yourself, my darling. Turning the light off, I close my eyes and savor the silence, comforted by her words. That is what I have been doing and what I will continue to do.
Sleep evades me as the day churns in my mind, then my phone chimes but I ignore it, assuming it’s only Mistee again. Plus, I don’t want to add fuel to my mental fire. Then it chimes again and again.
What the hell?
Ripping the covers off me, I see three text messages from a number I don’t recognize. Right away…I sense it’s King.
I left you a present at your door, make sure you get it before you go to bed.
I figure texting is best, we seem to argue in person.
How are you? I’ve missed seeing you lately.
I saw your gift and it’s already in the trash.
Why?
Why do you always ask why?
Why do you always avoid answering me?
I don’t.
Sure you do. Like now, tell me why?
He’s pressing me, nagging at me to do something that I don’t want to. Trying to take my control away and I don’t agree with it. Where do I even start with him? That’s it, I don’t. Good night, King.
No. Don’t. You did this shit the other day. Why won’t you open up to me, what happened to you?
Nothing fucking happened to me. What happened to you?
Nothing. Would you answer my question?
No, I won’t. Did you ever think maybe I don’t like you? I don’t know you and I don’t owe you shit.
What don’t you like about me?
Taking my phone to bed as I realize that I am standing in the middle of my living room, I ignore him. He’ll stop…he has to.
You didn’t like my shoes, I threw them away and they were my favorite. I bought you every color of bike I could think of. What else can I do?
Nothing. We are polar opposites. I really don’t care about your shoes, or the bikes, or anything. I just want to be left alone.
Why?
For the love of God, King, would you stop asking me that?
No, I won’t, not until you answer me.
I don’t need to answer you. I’m not yours and I don’t like you.
I wait for the wrath of what’s next, staring at my screen, refreshing and refreshing it. But he never responds. I guess that’s all it took. Now he knows. I am not his and I’m not into him. Now I don’t have to worry any longer. But the thought of things being over, even though they haven’t really started, is unsettling in a way. Maybe I need to answer his questions for myself…maybe there’s more to what I’m feeling than I’m letting on.
Chapter 8
Not a minute past 7:00am and the noise next door starts. God, he really must want to piss me off. Tossing my pillow over my ear, I want to cry. I barely slept last night with all the stress at work and everything King has been doing lately, and today I really wanted to sleep in and enjoy some peace and quiet. But, that’s not going to happen obviously.
Peering out from under the pillow, I grab my phone off my nightstand to do some aimless web surfing, maybe it’ll keep me distracted. Going into my favorite celebrity gossip app, I quickly get swallowed up in the crazy news that is the life of the rich and famous, but even focusing on this can’t quiet the banging coming from outside.
Closing out the app, I decide to turn some music on and drag my tired ass out of bed. Peering outside to see if I can see King’s car parked on the street, it’s not there and I find a pang of disappointment at the void. I’m not even sure why I looked. Frustrated at only myself for being so wishy-washy when it comes to him.
I walk into the bathroom; maybe a shower can clear my head. But on the way, I find a paper sticking out underneath my door.
Picking it up, the world around me spins. Everything that I thought
was so terrible . . . really isn’t. I can’t believe the words that are on the paper I’m holding.
NOTICE OF TERMINATION BY LANDLORD
NOTICE TO: Everly Adams, TENANT in possession and all others:
Address of Premises: 1888 Rawlings Avenue, Unit 2-B
TAKE NOTICE THAT:
Pursuant to a written lease (the “Lease”) dated January 12, 2016, you are a tenant for the premises described as: 1888 Rawlings Avenue, Unit 2-B (the “Premises”), of which you now hold possession.
The building was recently sold to All Designs Architecture, for the purpose of restoration as they deem fit. All leases and tenants transferred with this sale.
Your Lease or the applicable laws of the State of Rhode Island require that you be given seven days advance notice prior to the termination of your Lease or tenancy. This Notice of Termination serves as notification of the termination of your Lease.
Pursuant to your Lease and the said laws, you are hereby given notice that the Landlord is exercising its right to terminate your lease effective on the 7th day of August, 2016, and you are required to vacate the Premises at or before noon on this date.
All terms and obligations in the Lease, including, but not limited to, the obligation to pay rent, remains in effect until the latter of the 7th day of August, 2016 and when you have returned possession of the Premises to the Landlord or its agent.
Bracing my weight on the wall, I blink a few times, trying to figure out how this could have happened. And more importantly, how I can fix it. Charging back into my room, I snatch my phone off my bed and dial my landlord. If they really sold the building and this isn’t some stunt that King is pulling, then I want answers.
“Hello?” my landlord, Charlie, answers right away, and I do my best to stay calm.
“Charlie, this is Ever, from apartment 2-B. Why did I just get an eviction notice that says I have seven days before I have to vacate?”
“Oh no, did they already serve those? I barely left the closing thirty minutes ago.”
“So you really sold the building?”
“I did.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Ever, I’m very sorry. I was going to come and talk to all my tenants today. The company told me they were giving everyone sixty days. Are you sure it says seven?”
“Yes,” I shout and he goes silent. “I’m sorry, but I’m really freaking the fuck out here.”
“I completely understand. Let me call them and see what I can do. I’ll call you right back.”
“Thanks.”
We hang up, my heart pounding as I sit on the edge of my bed, so scared at the thought that I’ll actually have to leave my home. I love it here. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, even with the noise next door. Looking out the window again, his car still isn’t there and I have this sickening feeling that he did this. Maybe he owns this other architecture company and is doing this to get back at me.
My knee is bouncing up and down, I am so upset. I don’t know what to do. Needing answers a
nd to simply take out my frustrations on someone, I call King. I have to know if he is behind this. His phone rings and rings, then finally he answers.
“I knew you’d come to your senses,” his voice is serious.
“Save it, King. I’m not in any fuckin’ mood for your antics.”
“No?” he questions me and I lie back on my bed, exhaling as I search for the words…any words.
“What are you wearing?” he asks.
“Could you try and be serious for once in your life?”
“I could try…but I don’t want to.”
Knowing there is no nice way to accuse someone of something like this, I flat out ask him, “Did you buy my building?”
“No, why?”
“Please don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not, why would you ask me that?”
“’Cause I got an eviction notice that says I have seven days to move out.”
“Did you call your landlord?”
“Of course I did. He confirmed he sold…but said I was supposed to get sixty days. Still…I don’t get why?”
“Does the notice say who bought the building?”
“All Designs Architecture.”
“Let me handle this.”
“No, that’s not what I want. I’ll handle it, I only wanted to see if you were behind it.”
“Do you really think I’d kick you out of your house?”
“I don’t know, King, but please don’t get in the middle of this. I’ll handle it.”
“Ever,” my dad exclaims, excited and very surprised that I drove all the way over to his house.
“Hey, Dad. How are you?”
“I’m fine.” He stands from his desk, and I give him a hug, doing my best to hide the anxiety that is lurking beneath. I don’t want him to worry about me, but I need his advice on this whole housing situation.
“Are you off today?”
“Yeah…I…I need to talk to you.”
“Of course, have a seat.”
I sit in the little chair that is opposite his desk. The eviction notice is in my hand. “Here,” I pass it to him. “I got this today.”
Very gingerly, he opens it and I can see the confusion right away on his face as he reads it.
“Why? I don’t understand.”
“Me neither. I called Charlie and he said he sold the building.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I didn’t ask. I wish I would’ve, because now I can’t get ahold of him. He said the company told him they were going to give all the tenants sixty days. But this letter says otherwise.”
“Ever, I don’t see how this is legal.”
“Dad, I feel the same, but the paper is notarized and Charlie said he sold.”
“Is it the same company that bought the building next door to you?”
“No, I spoke to that owner and he knows nothing, although he says he wants to help. But—”
“But what? You’re going to let him help you, right?”
“I don’t know, Dad, the owner is that guy who got me kicked out of work and is a little crazy.”
“Then he owes it to you.”
I can’t help but laugh at my dad. My back is against the wall, and neither of us knows shit about legal documents, so unfortunately turning to King might be the only option…or moving…and imagining leaving my home sickens me.
“I’ll figure it out, I might ask him for help. Thank you for your opinion.”
“Of course, Ever, you know…you’re welcome here, if you want?”
I’m grateful to my dad, but looking around at his office, or more like his shrine to my mom, makes me sad. Beyond the logistical issue of how far away my dad lives that would make my commute an utter nightmare, I’m not sure I could handle moving back in here and all the reminders that would come along with it. I’ve worked hard to let her go and put myself in a good place, focusing on my work and getting through each day the best that I can…but still seeing the pain in my dad’s eyes makes me worry that coming back here could set me back.
Chapter 9
I can’t help but look at Ross differently now that I’m aware he and Mistee slept together, and watching the way they interact makes me think that maybe they are still fucking. As they run the front line together, they are so chummy, shoulder-to-shoulder.
But I’m sure it’s only me overanalyzing things as I try to grasp at strings and not focus on the fact that I have three days left before I have to leave my apartment. Imagining walking away from my home makes me so sad that my throat tightens.
Keeping my eyes down as I work in the back of the line like a peasant, I pray that there will be another way…there has to be. I haven’t heard from King or Charlie, so who knows at this rate. I decided to not ask King for help, I don’t want to owe him anything. If I am meant to move, then that will be my destiny and I’ll accept it.
“Here are some more boxes for you, Ever,” Trent says as he comes into the kitchen.
“Thanks.” He sets them by the back door and I know there isn’t much longer left of my shift.
“I need a seared salmon fillet.”
“Yes, Chef,” I call out to Mistee and prepare the fish as she has requested.
Finishing up the last few items, we do a shift swap and I grab my boxes and bolt. Loading them into my trunk, Mistee runs out and stops me before I can get into my car. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m stressed about the move…that’s all.”
“You can come and crash at my place,” she offers.
“Thanks,” I tell her.
“I mean it.”
“I appreciate it, I might take you up on it.”
“Listen, I’m sorry about the whole Ross thing.”
“It’s cool,” I brush it off, not wanting to talk about things at all.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I mean you’re a grown woman, you can make your own decisions.”
“Thanks. Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“I kinda like him.”
“Really?” I ask scrunching my eyebrows together and I close my trunk.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Let’s give it another week.” I tell her and walk to the driver’s side. “Have a good night.”
“Oh, come on,” she whines as I slam my door and then back away, leaving her standing in the middle of the parking lot. I’m aware of how Mistee is with her short ass attention span. Next week, it’ll be another guy.
God, I need a fucking drink. I can’t deal with her or anyone for that fact right now. It’s been a long day, I haven’t slept for shit, and I’m about to end up being forced to move back home with my dad who I’m sure still cries himself to sleep every night even six years later. I don’t even want to imagine the hours I’ll be trapped on the fucking freeway.
I get home and notice right away that King’s car is not outside. He hasn’t been at the project for days – not that I’m keeping track, but I totally find myself doing so and I have no clue why. Grabbing my boxes, I haul them upstairs and crack a beer. I power up my laptop and search Craigslist for any new rentals that are in my price range, hoping…praying that there is at least one. I’ve also gone around to all the nearby apartment buildings that I can afford and put my name on the waiting list, so I’m still holding out hope there. I mean…I have to find something and fast.
Getting lost in searching again, the same way I have been for days, I pray my mom is looking down on me and that she will not let me end up in a bad situation. I hold on to that hope as I persevere, not giving up, the way she raised me.
I tossed and turned all night, another terrible night’s sleep. The sun is beginning to light the sky and I’m thinking – or more like hoping – an early morning run might jump start my day and help to clear my mind. Dragging my tired ass out of bed, I pull my hair up into a ponytail and brush my teeth, get dressed, then trudge to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
Scooping out the gri
nds, there is a knock on the door. I answer it automatically, and am surprised when I see King, immediately followed by aggravation. I slam the door in his face, but he stops the door with his hand, and says, “Oh good, you’re up.” And walks right on in like he owns the place.
“Sure, just come right in,” I tell him and yawn, struggling to make the coffee, feeling all the fight go out of me as I concentrate on getting caffeinated.
“Why, thank you,” he says and closes the door behind him. I glare at him over my shoulder as I press the “on” button. His wide eyes are so fresh and awake as he undresses me from behind. “Should I get naked, or are you really going to stare at me like you can see through my clothes?”
“I’m not staring at you.” His tone is offended and he’s quick to recover. “But you can get naked, if you want.”
“Fuck you!”
“I like your mouth.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t like yours, and I really, really don’t want to deal with you right now.”
The coffee begins to brew and I’m forced to turn around. The sink is empty of dishes, so I have nothing else to keep myself busy.
“I wish you did.”
“What do you want?” I ask him.
“I come bearing gifts.” He unbuttons his suit coat, this one is gray and sleek, and he pulls out a folded piece of paper from the inside pocket, handing it to me.
“You know I don’t want any of your gifts.”
“Well, this one I am legally obligated to deliver to you and I think you’ll like it.”
Slowly I open the paper as he watches me, studying my every move. My heart stammers reading the letter he gave me. A feeling of relief rushes over me, like never before, and I shake my head so utterly confused. Why would he do this? Looking up at him, I blink away the tears and ask him the question he keeps asking me. “Why?”
“Why not?”
“Don’t. Don’t fuck with me like this. This letter says…” I trail off and turn my back to him. “What kind of person would do something like this?”