along with a bookcase and some art picked up at garage sales made up my “living room” area. A little glass topped bistro style table sat in my “dining area” with two mismatched chairs. My “bedroom” was hidden behind a Japanese style screen I’d found outside my complex’s dumpsters. Nancy ignored the screen, which I’d painted to look like new, inspected the art without enthusiasm, but looked critically at the contents of my bookcase.
“Star Trek,” she muttered, obviously displeased.
There weren’t just Star Trek books there, but also some Star Wars and many non-TV based science fiction novels. Nancy just called all sci-fi Star Trek because she thought it was evil and thus all sci-fi was evil. Most of the books she was inspecting I had bought when I was still at home; I had secretly stashed them away in boxes where Nancy couldn’t see their titles and throw them away. Now they were all proudly displayed in that bookcase, and Nancy didn’t like it.
“What a waste of money,” Nancy grumbled. “If you ask me.”
“Well, it’s my money,” I couldn’t help but snap. “And I didn’t ask you.” God, but couldn’t she just be nice and positive for once?
“It must be nice to be so rich,” Nancy replied acidly. “If you ever come back home, I guarantee that you won’t be able to bring this useless crap into the house.”
If I am so rich, why am I living in a studio apartment? I wanted to yell. Instead I smiled sweetly and shook my head. “I’m not coming back, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
Nancy looked like she wanted to slap me, but walked away instead, aimlessly opening my linen closet, which was right next to my bathroom. I had incidentally not cleaned my bathroom in a while, another cardinal sin in Nancy’s book, and I hoped she didn’t decide to peek inside.
“If you folded your towels the way I taught you to, you’d have more room in here,” Nancy said caustically. I didn’t say a thing so she added snidely, “But now you’re away from home, I guess you think you know better.”
I didn’t reply. I suppose that I could have just told her to leave at that point, because I knew for sure that she had not come there looking to make peace. I was curious about her real reason for coming though, which as I said before would have to be pretty big for her to pretend to be repentant. I decided to wait her out, because Nancy was terrible at pretending, and saying nothing would make her get to the point faster.
Nancy continued to poke around my apartment, and eventually ended up in my kitchen. It was there that her aha! moment came.
Her eyes zeroed in on a letter that was stuck on my refrigerator door.
But she didn’t immediately pounce. “At least you keep this place clean,” Nancy said with obvious contempt in her voice as she reread the return address label on the letter’s envelope:
Barbara Vitagliano
4591 E. Craig Rd. #2101
N. Las Vegas, NV 89121
“When your sisters had their apartment, they lived in filth,” Nancy continued. “They also wasted their money on frivolous things. They still have most of their junk piled up in the storage shed behind the house. I feel tempted sometimes to go out at night and put a torch to it all.”
It was a completely empty threat due to the fact that she’d get arrested if she ever tried it, but it was still a hurtful thing to say nonetheless. It was true that my sisters weren’t the best people at saving money, but then who’s perfect at it? Besides, fate did them in. Lindsay’s hours at the store had been cut and Vanessa lost her job. They moved back home, and Vanessa went to work for my dad and Nancy as their secretary in the mess he called an office. It was a thankless job where she was browbeaten by Nancy every day for not being good enough. Lindsay was in school so she could get a job at a doctor’s office.
When she got her degree or certificate or whatever they gave people for graduating from administrative
“Star Trek,” she muttered, obviously displeased.
There weren’t just Star Trek books there, but also some Star Wars and many non-TV based science fiction novels. Nancy just called all sci-fi Star Trek because she thought it was evil and thus all sci-fi was evil. Most of the books she was inspecting I had bought when I was still at home; I had secretly stashed them away in boxes where Nancy couldn’t see their titles and throw them away. Now they were all proudly displayed in that bookcase, and Nancy didn’t like it.
“What a waste of money,” Nancy grumbled. “If you ask me.”
“Well, it’s my money,” I couldn’t help but snap. “And I didn’t ask you.” God, but couldn’t she just be nice and positive for once?
“It must be nice to be so rich,” Nancy replied acidly. “If you ever come back home, I guarantee that you won’t be able to bring this useless crap into the house.”
If I am so rich, why am I living in a studio apartment? I wanted to yell. Instead I smiled sweetly and shook my head. “I’m not coming back, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
Nancy looked like she wanted to slap me, but walked away instead, aimlessly opening my linen closet, which was right next to my bathroom. I had incidentally not cleaned my bathroom in a while, another cardinal sin in Nancy’s book, and I hoped she didn’t decide to peek inside.
“If you folded your towels the way I taught you to, you’d have more room in here,” Nancy said caustically. I didn’t say a thing so she added snidely, “But now you’re away from home, I guess you think you know better.”
I didn’t reply. I suppose that I could have just told her to leave at that point, because I knew for sure that she had not come there looking to make peace. I was curious about her real reason for coming though, which as I said before would have to be pretty big for her to pretend to be repentant. I decided to wait her out, because Nancy was terrible at pretending, and saying nothing would make her get to the point faster.
Nancy continued to poke around my apartment, and eventually ended up in my kitchen. It was there that her aha! moment came.
Her eyes zeroed in on a letter that was stuck on my refrigerator door.
But she didn’t immediately pounce. “At least you keep this place clean,” Nancy said with obvious contempt in her voice as she reread the return address label on the letter’s envelope:
Barbara Vitagliano
4591 E. Craig Rd. #2101
N. Las Vegas, NV 89121
“When your sisters had their apartment, they lived in filth,” Nancy continued. “They also wasted their money on frivolous things. They still have most of their junk piled up in the storage shed behind the house. I feel tempted sometimes to go out at night and put a torch to it all.”
It was a completely empty threat due to the fact that she’d get arrested if she ever tried it, but it was still a hurtful thing to say nonetheless. It was true that my sisters weren’t the best people at saving money, but then who’s perfect at it? Besides, fate did them in. Lindsay’s hours at the store had been cut and Vanessa lost her job. They moved back home, and Vanessa went to work for my dad and Nancy as their secretary in the mess he called an office. It was a thankless job where she was browbeaten by Nancy every day for not being good enough. Lindsay was in school so she could get a job at a doctor’s office.
When she got her degree or certificate or whatever they gave people for graduating from administrative
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