Page 91 of You'll Love it Here

“Hey, Norm.” I wave awkwardly. “I like your haircut.”

“Thanks,” Norm mutters, keeping his jaw tight.

“That’swhat’s different about you!” Carmen smacks his back. “I thought something was a little funny but didn’t want to ask. It looks very sharp.”

“Yeah, I cut it for work.” His hands clench into little fists around the bottom of his shirt. “I’ve been going into the office these past few days since I don’t have my laptop, and you know how it is with the corporate folks.” His eyes flash to me. “If I can get my computer today, I’ll work from my Airbnb.”

“You’ve been going in?” I can’t help but interject. “Wow, that’s great.” My tone is too bright, and it only seems to spur more cold looks my way. “How has it been?” I press on.

At least now Norm is looking at me full-on. “It’s... not as bad as I thought. I might do it more often.” He shuffles his brown leathery shoes against the cracked pavement.

I nudge closer to Carmen, who looks like he’s been getting a lot of sun. “It’s good to see you too. I’m sure you’re looking forward to getting all your stuff back.”

Carmen exhales sharply, his urge to complain apparently outweighing his anger toward me. “It’ll be a pain moving all my crap into the new storage unit, but I suppose it’ll be for the best, long term.” He rubs his forehead with the tips of his fingers. “My sister said she don’t want me bringing none of my clients by while I’m staying with her. Ah, shit—” He stands straight and grins toward Fancy Widow, who is wheeling an actual old-fashioned trunk up the path. “I’ll go see if Lorna needs any help. I’ll catch you later, Norm.”

Even though he wasn’t talking to me, I call out, “It’s good to see you doing okay.”

He hesitates, not fully turning. “Take care, Mona.” He waves over his shoulder. Carmen never looked at me once.

With Carmen gone, Norm starts easing away from me toward the Chaudhrys. Once again, I’m alone in this group.

I deserve it.

I glance around at the pods of people. The Chaudhrys look pretty immersed in conversation, and Fighting Couple sound like they’re having another spat, which, oddly enough, is kind of comforting. (Unfortunately, the feeling fades quickly when I’m personally victimized by overhearing something about pube trimmings on Janine’s sister’s bathmat.)

I’m officially here alone.

I scan the crowd in both directions, but still no sign of Jane. Maybe she had to take several buses to get here? All day I’ve been building up in my head all the worst things she’d say to me—but now I worry that losing her home might’ve pushed her to do something drastic, like reach out to Trevor. Honestly, I’d take a million of her insults without blinking if it meant knowing she’s okay.

The firefighter begins instructing us all about how to collect our stuff—how many rounds we can make, what size items, where to leave trash since the parkade dumpster area is blocked off. I learn that some tenants plan on keeping their bigger furniture here in hopes that this is only temporary.

We’re brought in a few at a time. I linger at the back of the line, letting everyone take their time. The sunlight fades, and the crowd gradually thins. When it’s my turn, I’m alone. I follow the fireman into the lobby. None of the fake-cinnamon or cabbage smells of home greet me. Instead, there’s a slight smoky dinge to the air and a dark dusting of soot on most every surface.

The whiteboard in the lobby has been wiped clean. Someone removed the cum chair and the little library cabinet. They were probably smoke damaged, but still, a feeling of loss sweeps through me. Their removal feels so final.

When my eyes drop to the floor, it’s a mess. Stains and ashy footprints from boots stomping through mark up the ancient unmarkable carpet.

This poor building.

I don’t think I’ll ever see this place again, and it feels too important to leave without marking it somehow, without carrying a piece of it with me.

I pull out my phone to take one final picture of my beloved lobby when I hear, “You investigating the panty thief again?”

I turn and lower my phone. Jane is standing by the open door in a plain grey dress. Her hair is tied in a nondescript low bun. It’sdyed the same color as when I last saw her, though the inky black shade has started to fade.

“Jane!” I can’t help but move toward her, overwhelming relief that she’s okay overtaking my better judgment. “It’s so good to see you! Where did you get those clothes?”

She takes a small step back and crosses her arms. “Nothing exciting. Someone I work with lent them to me.”

“Wow, someone fromyourwork?” I joke.

She raises a brow. “Yeah, I let them know my situation and I guess some of them are nicer than I once thought. Or my creep radar isn’t as good as it once was.” She sighs, glancing around the messy lobby. “Anyway. Lots for me to do now. But I was just wondering...” She pauses, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment. “That day I caught you taking pictures of the chair, was that really about the panty thief?”

My eyes dart to my shoes. I hate making her feel like our friendship wasn’t authentic. “Jane, I’m so sorry for so much.”

She nods like this confirms every bad thought she has about me. “That’s what I figured.”

Her words hit me like pellets. “I’m sorry I lied. But I really enjoyed hanging out together,” I plead. “I wish we could still be friends.”