Authors: Laurel Osterkamp
“I hope you don’t mind cats,” she said. Upon her pink satin bedspread were two of them. One was small, dainty, and brown, and looked like a purebred, although I couldn’t say of what. But she was fluffy in all the right places, with fur gathered around her paws and her neck. The other cat, which was much more ordinary looking, stretched his large orange body across her bed as if he owned it.
“This is Jinny,” she walked over to the brown cat and began stroking her, “and that’s Thomas.” She merely pointed to him, but for me it was love at first sight. I walked over to the bed. He rolled over on his back so that I could pet his massive belly. As soon as I did, he began to simultaneously purr and lick my hand. Then he looked up at me, and I knew. Thomas was in my future.
“I love cats,” I said. “My old apartment didn’t allow them, otherwise I would have had one myself.”
“Oh good. We got off the phone yesterday and it occurred to me I should have asked you about that first thing. Jinny is like my family, so it’s important to me that anyone who lives here gets along with her.” She was still petting Jinny, lavishing affection on her. “I’ve had her for years. An ex-boyfriend gave her to me for my birthday. As you can probably tell, the boyfriend is long gone, but Jinny and I are still together.”
Jinny looked like she had the personality of a popular Junior High School girl, but she was a very pretty cat. “What about Thomas? How long have you had him?”
Missy looked up. “Oh. Well, I never actually planned on having two cats. But there was this little market place I used to go to, and the owners had him there and kept him locked up in this cage. So one day I asked, and they said they were planning on taking him to the pound unless someone wanted him. My heart went out; I had to take him home with me. Sometimes I regret it. Don’t get me wrong; he’s a love. But he and Jinny don’t get along too well. I think sometimes he’s jealous of her.”
I didn’t doubt it. If today was any indication of what usually went on, Jinny got all the attention and he got none. I would be jealous too. But on the other hand, Missy had taken him home with her, which is more than most people would do.
“Anyway,” she said, “your share of rent would be $445 per month. That includes all utilities except of course, the phone.”
“That’s cheap!” I said. “I haven’t heard of anything in this area that’s even close to that.”
“Yeah, since I moved they’ve been renting the vacated apartments for a lot more. I got in at the right time. By law, they can only increase my rent 7% per year.”
“Cool,” I said, still petting Thomas. He was on his side now, washing his face with his right paw and purring loudly while I con-tinued to pet him.
She continued. “But about the phone. I have a second job, do-ing some telemarketing from home. What would you think about installing a second line for us to use for personal calls? That way I wouldn’t have to worry about always tying it up.”
“That’s no problem.”
She smiled. “Great. You seem easy going. That’s always nice.”
I smiled back. “You have no idea who I’ve met while trying to find a roommate. I’m relieved you seem so normal.”
“Well, today is your lucky day. I have a good feeling about this. Unless, you want to keep looking and let me know later?”
I looked down again at the bed where Thomas was still wash-ing himself. His huge stomach was spread out in layers of fat, and he was content to take his time in licking all of it. This was the first time since meeting Ethan that I had felt my intuition kick in. Surely
I couldn’t be wrong twice in a row?
“No, this feels right. How soon can I move in?”
Missy said anytime. So the next day I drove back up to
Duluth
, rented a U-haul, and brought back all the furniture and possessions I thought would fit into Missy’s apartment. The rest I dropped off at Goodwill. It was that easy. I was now a
Minneapolis
resident, and I had left my old life behind.
Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I hadn’t made this move. It’s easy to reflect back and regret my choices. But hind-sight is twenty/twenty, and who’s to say what would have become of me had I stayed in
Duluth
? After all, safety is merely an illusion, and the best way to grow is by making a lot of mistakes. And I had a lot of growing to do.
Chapter 6
Finding a place to live had been a load off my mind, but that was only half the battle. I still needed to find a job. I had some money saved up, so it wasn’t like I was going to go broke right away. But I needed to find something soon, before all the teaching positions for the fall were taken. If worst came to worst I knew that I could always substitute teach, but, ick. Being a professional practical joke target just didn’t sound appealing.
So I set out, trying to find a school that would hire me. I spent hours filling out applications. I called old colleagues of mine, asking for letters of recommendation. I wrote essay after essay on my philosophy of teaching, and I couldn’t even get an interview.
But I was determined to keep my chin up, so I began each morning at the coffee shop two doors down from my new apartment. Cafe Panoply had a friendly atmosphere, with oversize sofas, funky lamps, and pop art in every nook and cranny that would hold it. Plus, every inch of the place had been painted, and the walls, floor, ceiling, chairs and tables were in alternating bright shades of blue, purple, green, and red. Missy never went there, she said the decor was too busy, but I found the place as invigorating as the coffee it served.
It also gave me a sense of belonging. I enjoyed recognizing the other regulars who came in each day when I did, even if I didn’t speak to them. One guy I noticed right away. He looked like he was a little older than me, early thirties maybe, but his hair had gone prematurely gray. It was cut very short, and the remaining fuzz stuck up straight on the top of his head. Below was a long narrow face, and eyes I could only describe as soulful.
Yet his demeanor contrasted noticeably with his appearance. He looked like he ought to have been intense and serious, but he was just goofy. Everyday he flirted with the owner and manager, Sally, who had to be a good twenty years older than he was. He would come in grasping his laptop in one arm, march straight up to the counter, and slap it with his free hand.
“Sally!” he would bellow, “get me the usual, and blow me a kiss!” She would laugh, hand him his hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and a rice crispy treat, then obligingly blow him a kiss. Every day he would hand her a ten-dollar bill, telling her to keep the change. Sally later told me he was a computer consultant, and had a lot of expendable income. Sally had come to recognize me, and greeted me each day when I came in, which was usually around 10. I liked to avoid the morning rush.
“Hello Faith, how’s the job hunt going?” she would ask in a way that reminded me of my mom. Sally was in her early fifties, and she dressed like an ex-hippie. She wore her graying hair in a long braid down her back, which went well with the Birkenstocks she always wore.
“The same,” I would say. “How are you?”
“Tired of these early mornings. I can’t ever seem to find a reliable person to take the morning shift. I swear, if I have to continue getting up at 5am every morning, I might as well sell the shop. I’m not a morning person.”
Every morning she would say that, and every morning I would reply, “Shouldn’t you have thought of that before you opened a coffee shop?”
“Foresight has never been my strong suit,” she would tell me. “Here’s your coffee. Would you like a scone? I made them fresh!”
Meanwhile, there were some bumps in the road of living with Missy. I didn’t realize before I moved in how lonely she was. I still thought she was a nice person, but she was needy needy needy. At first I didn’t mind, mainly because Carolyn and Charles were the only people I knew down here, and I didn’t want to be too dependent on them. But after a while she became, well, super mega needy.
I couldn’t relax if she was at home. She always wanted to be talk-ing, and would force me into a conversation no matter what I was doing. This wouldn’t be so bad, accept that there was only one topic of conversation she found acceptable: Missy.
For Example:
“Yeah. I lost 15 pounds by cutting out carbs. And you know, I don’t even miss it. I feel so much healthier now.” (Missy while I was cooking spaghetti.)
“Faith, you ought to pay more attention to how you dress. Look at me; I try to add sensual elements. People will respect you for it. (Missy while I was getting ready to go out.)
“When I was out of work I decided to change careers. Sometimes you need be willing to bend, Faith.” (Missy while I was filling out job applications.)
And so on. Okay, a lot of the time she would include me in the conversation, but usually to illustrate what was wrong with me versus what was right with her.
“Hey roomie!” she called to me one afternoon as she walked through the door. “Watcha doing?”
I was reading a magazine, trying to unwind after a long day of filling out more job applications and redoing my resume yet again.
“Just relaxing,” I said.
“Huh, I wish I could afford not to work.” She walked into her bedroom and closed the door. In a few minutes she came back out, dressed in biker shorts and a clingy top. “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she said. “I had a very bad day. I hate my job so much.”
I had put down the magazine, and turned on the television instead. Dr. Phil was on. “That’s okay,” I said. “Sorry your day was bad.”
Missy stepped in front of the television; I hated it when she did that. “Hey, do you want to go for a walk around
Lake
Calhoun
? It’s beautiful out, and my friend Lex should be down there. I ran into him yesterday, and he says he bikes around the lake most afternoons.”
Hundreds of people are usually at
Lake
Calhoun
on sunny, warm afternoons, and it is nearly impossible for walkers to find bikers, seeing as how they have to stay on different paths around the lake. But Missy desperately sought people out.
“Nah, I already went for a walk today,” I told her, which was true. Not the reason that I didn’t want to go, but true nonetheless.
“You never want to do anything with me,” she said, and got up to leave.
“Yes I do!” I lied. “I’m tired. I’ve spent all day job-hunting, and I need to relax a little and do nothing. That’s all.” I felt bad, but I also knew the main reason Missy wanted me to come was so she’d look popular if she ran into Lex.
“I understand.” Her smile was nutra-sweet, but she was trying to be genuine. “Have fun doing nothing. Hey, maybe when I get back, we can go get something to eat. I’m starved, and I heard there’s this new tapas bar that’s great to meet people at.”
“Maybe, we’ll see.” That meant I needed to come up with a reason why I couldn’t go out, and in the time that it took for her to walk around
Lake
Calhoun
. It needed to be good too, since she was on to me.
Laundry? If I put laundry in now, it would be in the dryer by the time Missy got back. But then what? I wasn’t sure, but in the meantime, I may as well do a load. I gathered up my dirty clothes, and headed downstairs. When I got down to the laundry room, I encountered a man preparing to dry his clothes.
“Gosh darnit! I’m short a quarter.” He said this to himself, unaware I had walked in. I realized he was the guy from the coffee shop.
“Here” I said, as I walked over to the dryer, and handed him a coin.
“Oh. Thanks,” he said, and for a moment it seemed that was all he was going to say. But then he looked at me, squinting and holding his gaze longer than most people would.
“I’ve seen you around, haven’t I?” he said, finally.
“Yeah,” I responded. “At Cafe Panoply. I see you just about every morning.”
“Riiiight!” he exclaimed, “you’re the new girl.”
“The new girl?”
“The new girl at Cafe Panoply. The new girl in the building. The new girl.” He exclaimed this as he threw all of his laundry into the dryer, slamming the door shut for emphasis. I laughed.
“What’s so funny?” he enquired.
“Nothing,” I said, separating my lights from my darks. “I can’t remember the last time I was a new girl. I don’t know if I’ve ever been one.”
“Well, then congratulations!” he said, “and welcome to the building.”
“I’m Faith.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Bill, in number twelve. So how do you like it here?”
“It seems nice so far.”
“Right. Well...” He started to walk away, then turned back once again. “Uh, Faith, which apartment did you say you were in?”
“I didn’t. But I moved into number 5.”
“With that brown haired girl? Melissa?”
“Well, yeah, but she goes by Missy.”
He laughed and shook his head as if in sympathy. “Good luck!” he said, then he walked away.
When I got back upstairs there was a message on our machine. I figured it would be one of the many guys who Missy meets through her dating service (did I mention she does online dating?), but I pressed play on the off chance it would be someone calling me for a job.