2. Kelsey
Chapter two
Kelsey
I called the landlady, Arlene Miller, right away and met with her only thirty minutes later, in front of a flat-roofed, L-shaped building that looked more like an old-school roadside motel than an apartment building.
It had two stories. A metal stair led to a walkway that ran along the length of the building, giving access to the units on the upper level.
The doors on the ground floor opened directly onto the parking lot, where about half a dozen cars were parked.
The white facade looked a bit weathered, blue paint was chipping off from some of the doors and window frames, and the patches of grass around the parking lot were overgrown.
It wasn’t exactly the Ritz-Carlton, but I couldn’t afford to be picky.
The landlady was already waiting for me next to the stairs. Arlene was a woman around seventy years old with hair more gray than blonde, leathery skin, and a friendly face.
When she spotted me, she waved and smiled, and I instantly felt welcome.
“You must be the new arrival, looking for a place to stay. ”
I shook her hand. “That’s me. I’m Kelsey. Thank you for meeting up on such short notice.”
“Don’t worry. It’s not like I'm awfully busy these days. Follow me. The empty apartment is on the second floor.”
I followed Arlene up the squeaky metal stairs and along the walkway until she stopped in front of one of the blue doors.
“Here we are. Unit Seven,” Arlene said as she unlocked the door to let me step inside.
The air smelled dusty. The living room was barely large enough for a two-seater couch and a table, and the kitchen was a narrow nook, crammed with outdated appliances. There was a water stain on one of the walls, and the tan carpet looked worn, but everything else seemed clean and functional.
“I know it’s not a palace,” Arlene said. “But for just one person, it’s comfortable.”
“It’s fine. I don’t need much space.”
“The kitchen has a dishwasher and a stove with an oven. The fridge is roomier than it looks.”
Arlene pushed open a door to a bathroom the size of a closet. “The bathroom has a shower. But no bathtub, I’m afraid.”
“I can live with that.”
“The bedroom is behind this door.”
She opened the second door and revealed another room, almost as large as the living room.
“Oh, plenty of space,” I said.
Arlene nodded. “This building used to be a motel. When we remodeled it, we knocked the walls down to combine two motel rooms into one bigger apartment unit. I know it’s not—”
“I’ll take it!” I blurted out. “Can I make the deposit in cash? I can pay right now. I want to move in right away. Like, right now. ”
Arlene raised her eyebrows and gave me a searching look. “Sure, that works for me,” she said after a brief pause. “I also need your Social Security number and a copy of your driver’s license, but we can take care of that later if you want to get settled in first. I guess you don’t have a job yet?”
“Not yet, no,” I confessed. “But I have enough money for the rent, I promise. I can pay in advance if you want.”
That wasn’t a complete lie. I had the money, but only for the first three months or so. I would need to find a job as soon as possible before I completely burned through my meager savings. Three thousand eight hundred dollars was all I’d managed to squirrel away during my marriage to Ryan.
Arlene smiled. “It’s fine. Pay on time, and I won’t ask any questions. Do you need help to move your furniture in? I can ask around for you, recruit a few strong guys to help you.”
Oof, sore spot . I fiddled with the strap of my beat-up backpack. One backpack full of stuff was all that remained of my thirty-four years of life. How pathetic is that?
“I only have this backpack. I like to travel light,” I said, trying to sound chipper, but Arlene seemed to see right through me.
“Where’s the rest? Your furniture?”
“With my ex-husband.” I tried not to sound bitter but failed miserably.
Arlene gave me a warm smile. “Been there, done that. But sweetheart, where are you going to sleep tonight? You can’t sleep on the floor.”
“It’ll have to do for tonight, I’m afraid. I’ll go out and buy some things tomorrow.”
Arlene wasn’t looking too pleased. “Ask around with the other residents. We watch out for one another here. I’m sure someone knows someone who wants to get rid of some old stuff. ”
“That’s very nice, but I don’t need handouts. I can take care of myself.” At least I hoped so.
In the back of my mind, a nagging voice was still telling me I was a complete failure in life. Ryan had said so. My mother had told me this, too, many times, for as long as I could remember. But I would prove them all wrong. I could survive on my own, without Ryan making decisions for me and without alms from strangers.
“I’m sure you can, sweetheart, but it’s not a handout. It’s community spirit.”
Community spirit . That was probably one of those small-town things I would need to get used to.
“About those neighbors. Anything I need to know? I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.”
“Let’s see… On your floor, there’s me. I live right next to you, unit eight. And my granddaughter Leah lives in unit five. She’s a bit younger than you, but I’m sure you’ll get along great. Quentin lives in unit six… He…” She hesitated.
“What? What about him?”
Arlene quickly smiled. “Oh, he’s a lovely young man. So polite. And smart! He’s a teacher at Brightwater High School. He’s just… well… He doesn’t like it when people stare at him, so don’t do that.”
Stare at him? I furrowed my brows. “Why would I stare at him?”
Arlene looked uncomfortable. “Oh, you know, people sometimes do that. But I’m sure you won’t. I’m sure you two will get along fine.”
I still wasn’t sure what was up with this Quentin, but Arlene didn’t seem eager to spill the beans, so I would just have to find out for myself. “I hope,” I said. “I’ve had enough trouble. I’m not looking for more.”
“What are you looking for?” Arlene asked.
“A fresh start,” I said .
Arlene looked me in the eyes and nodded. “Oh, sweetheart. Been there, done that.”
I did sleep on the floor that night, and it was even more uncomfortable than I’d anticipated. But my aching back wasn’t the only thing keeping me awake.
As I stared at the ceiling and listened to the hushed sounds of the town I knew nothing about, my mind wandered to Ryan. Does he miss me? I checked my phone for the thousandth time since I walked out of our house two days before—no message.
I wondered why. Maybe he thought I was staying with my mother for a few days to freak him out. As if I would ever spend time with my mother voluntarily. Or maybe… maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he was glad I was gone.
That was a good thing, right? After all, I needed him out of my life. If I wanted to make something of myself, I had to get away from him first. I had taken many years to come to that realization, but I now knew that Ryan was… he wasn’t good for me. That’s why I left him, the nice house, the life we’d shared for the past one-and-a-half decades. That’s why I came to Brightwater. A new place, a new life—just me, no Ryan. That’s what I needed.
I unlocked my phone again and opened the messenger. I could see he’d been online recently but otherwise no sign of life from Ryan. Exactly what I’d wanted, so why did it sting so bad?
When I woke up the next morning, after a restless night, I decided the best way to fight my self-pity was with initiative. After showering, covering my worse-for-wear face with some makeup and putting on my fancy clothes and professional shoes, I almost felt good about myself .
The time had come to hunt for jobs.
My first order of business took me to the library, where I printed out my resume on one of the public printers, not that there was much on it. I’d dropped out of high school in my senior year and had worked mostly odd jobs with large gaps between. Then I stopped working completely, soon after marrying Ryan. He wanted it that way.
I wasn’t kidding myself. I knew how I looked on paper and that employers wouldn’t exactly knock down my door, but I make up for my lack of qualifications with confidence and enthusiasm. With that thought in mind, I left the library to knock on some doors.
My first stop was a clothing store called Watson Couture. The soft navy-blue carpet, the modern silver chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and the breathtaking price labels on the elegant dresses and stylish sweaters told me this was a pretty high-end boutique.
I approached the middle-aged woman with sleek thin-rimmed glasses behind the cash register to introduce myself.
“Hello, my name is Kelsey Wallace. I just arrived in Brightwater, and I’m looking for employment.” I handed the woman my papers. “I have experience in retail.”
“Olivia Watson,” the woman said. “This is my boutique. You might be in luck. One of my girls quit two weeks ago to find herself in Bali. Or was it Sri Lanka? Anyway, let’s have a look.”
She pushed the glasses down her nose and started reading. My hands became clammy. I put on a winning smile and hoped it would be enough to outshine my lacking resume.
“Oh, I think you forgot to add your high school diploma,” Mrs. Watson shuffled the papers around. “I can’t find it.”
“Um, yes… I left high school a little earlier than usual. I’m more of a practical person,” I said, followed by another thousand-watt smile .
Olivia Watson looked less than impressed. With a frown, she shoved her glasses back up and put the stack of papers down.
“Sadly, we currently have a long list of applicants, but I will put your resume on the stack for consideration.”
That didn’t sound promising. “Oh, okay. When might I hear from you?”
“It’s a very high stack,” she said, looking uncomfortable. “Maybe you should look for other employment in the meantime.”
“Can I call you? Ask for an update?”
“No, please don’t do that.”
“So you will call me?” I asked, but Mrs. Watson was already turning away.
“Yes, sure. I will call you.” With these words, she disappeared into the back room without as much as a goodbye.
My resume was still on the counter, carelessly shoved aside.
I took a deep breath and collected my documents. That hadn’t gone too well, but one failure wouldn’t stop me. I left the boutique and headed toward my next target, the flower shop at the corner.
Within the next hours, I visited the flower shop, the bookstore, a Mexican restaurant, a toy store, a pet store that smelled like dog pee, and a pharmacy. I even stopped by the office of the Brightwater Tribune to ask if I could take over a paper route, but the young man in the office told me they had more than enough high school students to cover the work.
When I returned to the Sunset Apartments in the late afternoon, I had nothing to show for my nine-hour odyssey other than sweat stains on my blouse and blisters on my feet. My plan to simply show up with a holey resume and a self-confident smile had yielded no results.
Frustrated and utterly exhausted, I sat down on the parking lot curb in front of the apartment building and took my shoes off to rub some life back into my sore feet. Expecting to land a job on my very first day in Brightwater was probably unrealistic to begin with, but damn, this whole “getting my life together” thing was even harder than expected.
While I was still contemplating whether to force my shoes back onto my swollen feet so that I could walk back into my apartment with some dignity or to just give up and make my way upstairs barefoot, a young woman walked up to me. She was about my age, maybe a little younger, tall and slender, with black hair and dark, determined eyes.
“You’re the one who’s renting seven, right? My grandmother told me about you. I’m Leah. I live in five.”
I got up from the curb. “Yes, that’s me. Hi, I’m Kelsey.”
“Granny told me you’re new in town.”
“I arrived yesterday.”
“Do you need any help?”
I frowned. “I… listen, Leah, I appreciate the offer, but I already told your grandmother I don’t want any handouts.”
Leah scoffed. “Girl, I work three jobs. Do I look like I have anything to hand out?”
“Uh…”
“I just thought you could use some help to get settled in. I could show you around town. And Gran said you don’t even have a bed.”
I smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. I could use a bed.”
“Then we should start there. What’s your budget?”
“About fifty cents,” I admitted.
Leah laughed. “Alright, to the thrift shop!”