parents
had told her to move to Phoenix with them, enroll in Arizona State, but, Jane
reminded herself, she knew what she wanted.
And that,
apparently, was a small apartment with a stranger and a half-hearted education.
Jane turned her
ignition off. At least the light was out so she could go straight to sleep.
Jane ambled up the
steps to her front door counting the weeks left until the end of school and
attempting to ignore the smell coming from the dumpster at the foot of her
staircase.
May was coming,
and with it, freedom from her classes and her commute. She could move to Phoenix
with her parents and start her fundraising. Good things were coming in May. A
little pang of disappointment hit her. In May she’d be done with Isaac Daniels’
class.
The front door
light was burnt out. The sheltered entry to the apartment was pitch black. Jane
stumbled over something as she crossed the landing to her door. She looked down
and discovered a small cardboard box with her blanket on top. She frowned and
kneeled down. She removed her blanket to discover her pillow, her books from
last term, And her half a bag of Chex Mix.
Was Sam kicking
her out? And if so, where were her clothes? She quickly recalled they were in
her car, waiting to go to the laundry mat, but what about the rest of her
stuff, like the futon she called her bed?
Jane pulled out
her keychain and clicked on her L.E.D light. By its small glow she read a note
scribbled on the side of the box. Rent overdue. Evicted . She bowed her
head. “Oh dear God, what on Earth?” She didn’t pray it, so much as turn the
question over and over in her head. She was too confused to pray. She was
absolutely certain that her rent was not overdue. She pressed the palm
of her hand to her chest. Her heart thumped against her hand like a drum.
“Okay, Lord. Just
give me my next step.” The words of the Psalm came to her mind . “Your word
is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”
What did the Bible
say she should do? No stories of twenty-year-old girls on their own kicked to
the curb in the middle of the night came to mind so she pulled out her phone
and called Sam. She hoped the phone would wake her up from a deep sleep. Anger
was beginning to replace her confusion.
The phone seemed
to ring forever, but right about when voicemail should have clicked on, Sam
answered.
“Let me in,” Jane
said.
“I can’t. We’re
evicted.”
“What do you mean,
‘We’re evicted’? Just let me in to get the rest of my stuff at least.”
“I can’t, idiot.
We were evicted.”
“But rent wasn’t
late. What do you mean ‘rent was late’?” Jane rocked back on her heels.
“About that…”
“Samantha, did you
not pay the rent?”
“I was going to,
but something came up.” Sam’s voice was slurred.
“How often did
something come up, Sam?”
“Listen, I have a
lot of expenses and I had to use the money for some stuff and now we are
evicted. Deal.”
“Where are you?”
Jane’s mind was spinning. Some unbefore-met part of herself wanted to find Sam
and punch her in the nose. The rest of her just wanted to find a place to spend
the night.
“I’m out of town.
Sorry about this. Hey. I didn’t box your stuff up, the landlord did. Talk to
him about it.”
“But my furniture?
My bed? My dresser? My privacy screen? What about that stuff?”
“Yeah, so, he
needs that to sell for the past rent or something. I don’t know. My dad came
and cleared my stuff out for me. Maybe your dad can come. The landlord is kind
of a bully, but whatever. I’m busy right now. Just get a hold of him yourself
and deal with it.” Sam disconnected the call.
Jane stared at her
phone. Unless her lock-box was in the cardboard box on the front-step, her
emergency credit card would still be inside the apartment.
Jane stood up. She
brushed the dirt from her knees. With a shaking hand she pushed her key into
the lock and attempted to let herself in to the apartment. The lock resisted
her
had told her to move to Phoenix with them, enroll in Arizona State, but, Jane
reminded herself, she knew what she wanted.
And that,
apparently, was a small apartment with a stranger and a half-hearted education.
Jane turned her
ignition off. At least the light was out so she could go straight to sleep.
Jane ambled up the
steps to her front door counting the weeks left until the end of school and
attempting to ignore the smell coming from the dumpster at the foot of her
staircase.
May was coming,
and with it, freedom from her classes and her commute. She could move to Phoenix
with her parents and start her fundraising. Good things were coming in May. A
little pang of disappointment hit her. In May she’d be done with Isaac Daniels’
class.
The front door
light was burnt out. The sheltered entry to the apartment was pitch black. Jane
stumbled over something as she crossed the landing to her door. She looked down
and discovered a small cardboard box with her blanket on top. She frowned and
kneeled down. She removed her blanket to discover her pillow, her books from
last term, And her half a bag of Chex Mix.
Was Sam kicking
her out? And if so, where were her clothes? She quickly recalled they were in
her car, waiting to go to the laundry mat, but what about the rest of her
stuff, like the futon she called her bed?
Jane pulled out
her keychain and clicked on her L.E.D light. By its small glow she read a note
scribbled on the side of the box. Rent overdue. Evicted . She bowed her
head. “Oh dear God, what on Earth?” She didn’t pray it, so much as turn the
question over and over in her head. She was too confused to pray. She was
absolutely certain that her rent was not overdue. She pressed the palm
of her hand to her chest. Her heart thumped against her hand like a drum.
“Okay, Lord. Just
give me my next step.” The words of the Psalm came to her mind . “Your word
is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”
What did the Bible
say she should do? No stories of twenty-year-old girls on their own kicked to
the curb in the middle of the night came to mind so she pulled out her phone
and called Sam. She hoped the phone would wake her up from a deep sleep. Anger
was beginning to replace her confusion.
The phone seemed
to ring forever, but right about when voicemail should have clicked on, Sam
answered.
“Let me in,” Jane
said.
“I can’t. We’re
evicted.”
“What do you mean,
‘We’re evicted’? Just let me in to get the rest of my stuff at least.”
“I can’t, idiot.
We were evicted.”
“But rent wasn’t
late. What do you mean ‘rent was late’?” Jane rocked back on her heels.
“About that…”
“Samantha, did you
not pay the rent?”
“I was going to,
but something came up.” Sam’s voice was slurred.
“How often did
something come up, Sam?”
“Listen, I have a
lot of expenses and I had to use the money for some stuff and now we are
evicted. Deal.”
“Where are you?”
Jane’s mind was spinning. Some unbefore-met part of herself wanted to find Sam
and punch her in the nose. The rest of her just wanted to find a place to spend
the night.
“I’m out of town.
Sorry about this. Hey. I didn’t box your stuff up, the landlord did. Talk to
him about it.”
“But my furniture?
My bed? My dresser? My privacy screen? What about that stuff?”
“Yeah, so, he
needs that to sell for the past rent or something. I don’t know. My dad came
and cleared my stuff out for me. Maybe your dad can come. The landlord is kind
of a bully, but whatever. I’m busy right now. Just get a hold of him yourself
and deal with it.” Sam disconnected the call.
Jane stared at her
phone. Unless her lock-box was in the cardboard box on the front-step, her
emergency credit card would still be inside the apartment.
Jane stood up. She
brushed the dirt from her knees. With a shaking hand she pushed her key into
the lock and attempted to let herself in to the apartment. The lock resisted
her
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