Page 90 of You'll Love it Here

“Yeah.” I nod, even though she can’t see me. “That sounds about right. Man, I’m sorry you have to deal with this on top of everything.” The idea that a big company, probably run by some clone of Bob Wolch, is treating Irene this way infuriates me.

“Well, in any case,” Irene sighs, “it does look like the building is going to be out of commission awhile longer, with all the damage.”

“That’s too bad.” Thoughts of all the tenants and what thatmeans for them bounce around in my head. “What are you... I mean, are you still going through with the sale?”

“The sale!” Irene hoots. “That’s the funny part. Even though the buyer planned to tear it down anyway, now that the property isn’t in the same condition as when they made their offer, they’ve found a loophole. They want to lowball me, and they know I may have to take whatever I can get if insurance keeps up their good work.”

Fuck. That sounds exactly like the kind of move a big corporate fuck like Bob would pull. God, I can’t believe how much I hate so many of the people I’m supposed to work for. “Irene, that’s just awful. You don’t deserve this.”

“Mmm. Yeah, it’s going to be a real pain in the caboose. Almost like that water shutoff last month wasn’t such a big deal in retrospect.” It’s the cheeky twang in her voice. All those weeks ago when I wrote on the board, she must have known. I’ve given this lady a lot less credit than she was owed. A habit of mine lately.

“Irene, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, it’s not your fault. Well, notthistime.”

I close my eyes and rock back on my heels. “I meant I’m sorry for it all. I shouldn’t have helped Lana without talking to you first.”

She harrumphs. “That’s right. You shouldn’t have. But it is what it is, and I hear you had your selfish reasons.”

A familiar pang of guilt swirls through me. “Irene, I mean it, though. It was wrong of me and I—”

She cuts in, her voice hard. “Honey, this is boring, and I was stuck alone with a cast for weeks.” She feigns a yawn. “I’m calling because the fire department has allotted a time for everyone to gather their things without the building collapsing and causing you to die a horribly painful death, or whatever the fire marshal said. All residents can come by tomorrow evening anytime between five and eight.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “Allof us come at the same time?”

“That’s right. That’s when the guy can walk you through safely.”

A strong cocktail of conflicting emotions swirls in my chest at the thought of seeing everyone again.

“Yeah, I imagine most will be there at five. I just wanted to know if you’ll be able to come, or if you need to schedule a different time in case you have a conflict, or if your fear of the others doesn’t allow you to make it with the group.”

I lock eyes with Alice.

No matter how scared I am to face them, it’s better than not ever saying goodbye.

“I’ll see you then,” I croak.

A Quite Moving Day

My mom had to go into work to thread a bunch of women’s eyebrows for some bridal party this evening, so I ended up grabbing an Uber. The driver was objectively aggressive, which did little for my nerves. When we turned onto Memorial Drive, he honked and flipped off some family in a Subaru. Twice! And when he vented to me about the assholes on the road, I felt it best to agree with everything he said from the backseat of his car. I even added one: “Yeah, this city is full of shit drivers.” For good measure.

I was carrying a couple of cardboard boxes to pack my clothes in. Showing up to Valleyview Apartments in my mom’s bedazzled Britney Spears T-shirt wasn’t exactly the vision I had for this day, but it was better than any of the silky blouses on offer.

I’m a little bit early when we pull up in front of the building, but already most of the residents are settled out front, hoisting their own boxes and suitcases. Norm looks like he got a much shorter haircut. It suits him. He and Carmen stand together, while Divorced Dad and Fighting Couple perch on opposite sides of the front gables like British guards. Behind them, all three of the Chaudhrys converse with a firefighter.

My driver taps his fingers against the wheel as I struggle to remove all my boxes. As he pulls away, I tap my phone to give him his five stars and tip.

Right. I look at the gathering crowd as I pocket my phone. Allof them seem to be in lively discussions. No one’s glanced in my direction.

It’s definitely time to face the music.

I make my way toward the small group as one of the mustached fireman I recognize from the first alarm starts going over instructions about safety and warning people not to open their refrigerators since the power has been out for days.

I can’t help it as my eyes drag toward the diner. There’s nothing to see, nobody perched underneath the familiar Corner Coffee & Food sign. Sami’s not changing out the communal water bowl for the neighborhood dogs, or putting out food for the crows in hopes they’ll one day give him a button, or any of the other thoughtful little things he does. In fact, through the window, I don’t see any silhouettes. The lights aren’t on. I bite back my disappointment. Obviously, he’s not going to come here today.

As I merge into the group that’s forming outside the front entrance, Carmen nudges Norm. “I’m not looking forward to what remains of the clam chowder I had for lunch the night of the fire.”

Norm shakes his head. “I had just cleaned my fridge, but there was still milk inside.” He angles his head and spots me standing behind him. His easy expression falls in an instant.