Chapter 3 #2
“There will be no cat proofing. You are fucking out, you hear me? I have to almost gut the entire front half of your apartment to fix the water damage. It’ll come out of your security deposit and the rent you’ve already pre-paid.
My insurance should take care of the rest, but you’ll be getting billed for anything it doesn’t.
” He’s seething, nostrils flaring, chest heaving, and he really does remind me of an angry bull.
The image of me waving a red flag in front of him to make him charge me has me giggling maniacally.
Somewhere deep in my consciousness, I know it’s the most inappropriate response in this moment.
I think my brain is shutting down completely instead of having the emotional breakdown it wants to right now. I’m about to be homeless.
“Oh, it’s funny, is it? It’s goddamn hilarious that your asshole cats caused so much property damage?” I try my hardest to get my shit together and salvage this situation as best I can.
“It’s not funny at all, I’m so sorry, I’m having a moment because you’re telling me I’m going to be homeless.
Please, Mr. Zarelli. I’ll do whatever I can to help with the repairs and make sure it never happens again.
I’ll remove the plug from the sink and switch the fixture to something that needs twisting, not a lever they can just push.
Please don’t kick me out.” This all rushes out of me in one panicked breath.
“No. I want you out. You breached your lease agreement with this damage and you are done here. Get your fucking cats, pack up your stuff, and be out by tomorrow night. I need to get the place cleaned up and ready for a new tenant as fast as possible. I’ve already used the wet vac on the worst of it. ”
“The agreement says I need at least 7 days notice to vacate,” I protest.
“By the time the apartment is habitable again, your 7 days will be up. I need to get in there with a crew to start cleaning it all up, you and those asshole cats can’t be in the way.
I’m giving you tonight to get your shit together and find somewhere to crash.
Be thankful I’m even giving you that.” With that he storms off, pulling out his phone to make a call, presumably to the crew he mentioned.
I rush up to my apartment to check on the troublemakers.
When I open the bathroom door, the two little beasties shoot out and start crying, circling me like vultures.
I slump to the floor and am finally overcome with hiccuping sobs.
All of my huge emotions from my visit to Celeste and now this have me falling apart at the seams. Crawling all over my lap with plaintive meows, the cats attempt to comfort me.
The little troublemakers don’t even seem to feel guilty at all about what they’ve done, they just seem pissed to be inconvenienced and wet.
“You two are lucky you’re so cute and wonderful.
You’ve put me into a whole heap of trouble, you know that?
I have no idea where we’re going to live now, we are so incredibly fucked.
This apartment was perfect,” I whisper brokenly while I stroke their backs.
After a few more minutes of wallowing, I wipe my tears and get up to survey the damage.
First, I grab the brush I have for the cats and give them each a thorough once over since their fur is still a little damp.
Then I head into the scene of the crime.
The carpeting in the living and dining room is soaked, the pergo flooring in the kitchen is already warping slightly, and the bases of the cheap wood cabinets beneath the sink are soaked beyond repair as well.
There’s the wet vac in the corner of the living room, and while things are still damp, it does look like the worst of it has been cleaned up.
I was only gone for 5 hours today, how in sweet hell did this happen?
More importantly, where am I going to stay?
I absolutely hate asking for help. For so long I’ve done everything and handled everything on my own.
If it weren’t for the cats I would probably just live in my car for the time being while I searched for another place.
That’s no way for them to live though, it would be cruel and unsafe to keep them in the car.
I would ask Ray if I could crash there, but Diego can’t even come here because he’s deathly allergic to cats.
They just moved in together so I’m not going to mess with their dynamic and risk Diego’s health.
My foster parents have been retired to Florida for years.
Once I aged out of the system, as much as they cared for me and did for me, things grew distant.
We still keep in touch, but I’m not that close with them.
My only family that I’m close to is in jail in the next state.
I’m friendly with my coworkers, but I’m not sure if any of them would be willing to let me crash.
They have spouses, partners, kids, and probably not a lot of room for a guest. I can’t afford a hotel for any length of time, especially a pet friendly one that usually charges extra to have them there.
There have been only a handful of times when it’s become unbearably painful to realize how lonely I truly am, even though it’s by choice.
This is one of those times, knowing I don’t really have anyone I can go to with a crisis like this.
There is only one person I’m friendly with that I know, from hearing him mention he had his best friend crash in his guest room recently after they hung out and drank too much, who might have room for me.
It’s an awful idea, because there is a loud part of my brain that loves the idea of texting him and crashing at his place.
The thought of spending more time with him, maybe seeing him shirtless, is temptation in a bottle that I don’t need.
I don’t have many options, though. I have until tomorrow night to find a place to sleep, along with it also being a safe place for the instigators that put me in this mess.
I love them to death in spite of them causing chaos right now, and I really don’t want to give them up.
So against all of my good judgment and sense, I open up my phone to the group text my coworkers and I have, and pull up his number.
My palms are sweaty as I work out what to say.
Hey, it’s Tania. I know this is completely out of the blue, and what I’m about to ask is a lot.
I don’t think I’ve come close to having the right to even ask, but desperate times and all that.
I’m in a bad situation, I’ve been kicked out of my apartment and have until tomorrow night to pack up and leave.
My two cats caused some major chaos in my apartment by accident and my landlord is pissed.
Would there be any chance you’d have room for me to crash until I can figure out something more permanent?
I will clean, help cook, keep my cats locked in a room, whatever you need as long as I can keep them with me.
Again, I know it’s a lot, you can tell me to fuck off if it’s too much.
Maybe we could talk about it at the hub before our routes tomorrow?
Once I send it, I try not to check obsessively for an answer while I start throwing all of my meager belongings into suitcases.