Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
NYROBI
It was funny how a piece of paper could say one thing while your bank account said something completely fucking different.
According to the folder sitting on my passenger seat, I had just agreed to carry a baby for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
According to the gas light that had been on since yesterday, I had exactly twelve dollars and some change to play with until payday.
Life really had a fucked-up sense of humor.
I kept looking over at that folder every time I stopped at a red light like the number inside might change.
Two hundred and fifty thousand.
Even thinking it sounded crazy.
I had spent so much time worrying about Mama's medicine, rent, lights, groceries, and which bill could wait until the next check that my brain didn't even know what to do with a number that big. I could pay everything and not just catch shit up.
I could make sure Mama had every prescription she needed without standing at the pharmacy counter asking which one was the most important because I couldn't afford all of them.
I could get my car fixed. Shit, I could get another car.
I could put money away. Maybe go back to school.
Maybe finally stop feeling like one bad week could fuck my whole life up.
For the first time in a long time, I could see a version of my life where I wasn't constantly trying to make twenty dollars do the job of a hundred. But that version of my life wasn't here yet. Right now, I still had twelve dollars. And a landlord who didn't give a fuck about my future.
My phone had been blowing up since I left the attorney's office. I already knew who it was and that was why I hadn't answered. I pulled into the employee parking lot at the hotel, turned my car off and sat there. The engine made some weird ass noise after I took the key out.
I stared at the dashboard.
“Don't start your shit today.”
The car clicked one more time.
“Exactly.”
I grabbed my purse and reached for the folder.
Then stopped.
Hell no.
I wasn't carrying paperwork saying $250,000 into work.
Ariel would have that shit on Facebook before I clocked in.
I shoved the folder underneath my passenger seat, locked the car and headed inside. I hadn't even made it completely through the employee entrance before Tiffany spotted me.
She looked at the clock and then at me and then back at the clock.
“I thought you were taking the day.”
“For what?”
“Your meeting.”
“Meeting over.”
“You could've still taken the rest of the day.”
“And do what? Sit at home and stare at the wall?”
“You could rest.”
“Rest don't pay time and a half.”
Tiffany stared at me.
“You don't get time and a half today.”
“See? That's exactly why I need to work.”
She laughed.
“You are something else.”
I clocked in.
“Where y'all need me?”
“Sixth floor.”
“Bet.”
I had just started toward the supply room when Tiffany called my name again.
I turned around.
“What?”
“You okay?”
There went that fucking question again. Everybody had been asking me that shit lately.
Kaizleigh. Billion. Now Tiffany.
I was starting to wonder if my face had started snitching on me.
“I'm good.”
“You sure?”
“Why everybody keep asking me that?”
“Because you've been weird.”
“I've always been weird.”
“Not like this.”
I grabbed my cart.
“Tiff, I'm fine.”
She looked like she wanted to keep going. I didn't give her the chance. I pushed the cart toward the elevator. I was glad work was easier and it was just routine now. Somebody checked out, I cleaned the room. Somebody needed towels. I brought towels.
I was halfway through stripping a bed when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I ignored it, then it stopped before vibrating again. I snatched it out.
Unknown number.
Same one that had been calling.
I knew exactly who it was and I hit decline. A second later, a voicemail notification popped up and then a text.
Please contact our office regarding possession of the unit. This matter is time sensitive.
My stomach tightened.
I locked my phone…
Not here. I wasn't doing this shit here.
I went back to pulling the sheets off the bed along with pillowcases, comforter and fitted sheet.
My phone vibrated again.
“Fuck.”
I threw the sheet into the cart and picked it up.
This time it was Mama.
I answered immediately.
“Hey.”
“Nyrobi?”
Something in her voice made me stop.
“What happened?”
“You busy?”
“What happened, Mama?”
“I need you to come home.”
My stomach dropped.
“Are you okay?”
“I'm fine.”
“Then what's wrong?”
She got quiet.
“Mama.”
“They came by here.”
I closed my eyes.
“Who?”
Like I didn't already know.
“The people about the apartment.”
“Did you open the door?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“They left something.”
“What?”
“A paper.”
I leaned against the wall.
“What the paper say?”
“I don't know all that legal mess, baby. It got the court name on it.”
Fuck.
“Don't worry about it.”
“How I'm not supposed to worry? They banging on the door talking about we gotta leave.”
“Did they come inside?”
“No.”
“Then we good.”
“Nyrobi.”
“We good, Mama.”
I didn't know if that was true but she didn't need to know that.
“I'm coming home.”
“Aren't you at work?”
“Yeah.”
“Then stay at work.”
“Mama.”
“I ain't dying. It's a piece of paper.”
“I'll be there.”
“Nyrobi, you need your hours.”
That hurt worse than it should've. Even with somebody coming to our door about putting us out, Mama was worried about me losing a few hours on my check.
“I'll figure it out.”
“You always figuring everything out.”
“I know.”
“You shouldn't have to.”
I looked down at the carpet.
“I said I got it.”
She got quiet.
Then she sighed.
“Okay.”
“I'll be there soon.”
I hung up and for a second, I just stood there. Then I went looking for Tiffany. She was at the front desk talking to one of the supervisors when I walked up.
“Tiff.”
She looked at my face and immediately stepped away.
“What happened?”
“I gotta go.”
“Your mom?”
“She good.”
“What happened?”
“Something at my house.”
Her eyes changed.
“Everything okay?”
“I don't know yet.”
“Go.”
“I just clocked in.”
“Nyrobi, go.”
“I need these hours.”
“And I'm telling you I'll handle it.”
“Tiffany—”
“Go before I clock you out myself.”
I stared at her.
“Thank you.”
“Call me.”
“I will.”
“And don't say you will then don't.”
“I said I will.”
She hugged me before I could stop her.
“It's gonna be okay.”
I hated when people said that, not that I didn't appreciate it, it’s just because nobody ever knew if shit was going to be okay and most of the time, she wasn’t for me.
I grabbed my purse and left, flying down in traffic I was whipping into the complex in no time.
As soon as I jumped out of the car, I quickly made my way upstairs.
The paper was taped crooked across our front door.
Bright enough that anybody walking past could see it.
I didn't even have to read it to know it wasn't good.
Mama was sitting on the couch when I walked inside with her purse was beside her. And aint gone lie that shit bothered me.
“Why your purse out?”
She looked up.
“I don't know.”
“You going somewhere?”
“No.”
“Then why you got your purse?”
She looked toward the door.
“Because I didn't know if they was coming back.”
That shit dead ass broke something in me. My mama was sitting in her own living room with her purse packed because she didn't know if somebody was about to come make her leave.
I walked back outside and ripped the paper off the door.
“Nyrobi.”
“I got it.”
“Read it first.”
“I am.”
I unfolded it and skimmed through it. The words weren't confusing. I just didn't like what the fuck they were saying.
Possession. Final judgment. Writ.
I pulled out my phone and called the number at the bottom. Somebody answered after a few rings. I gave them my name and address. Then I stood there listening while this woman explained my life to me like I hadn't been the one living it.
The case had moved forward. The judgment had been entered. The amount I owed hadn't disappeared just because I'd been trying to catch up. And the part that mattered most was in fact, we had to leave.
I stopped her.
“Wait. How long do I have?”
She repeated herself.
I looked through the open door at Mama.
“No, I'm asking you how long before somebody comes and physically makes us leave.”
She answered.
My stomach sank.
“That soon?”
Mama's face changed.
I turned away from her.
“What if I can pay something?”
The woman explained where things stood now and I listened but, nothing she said gave me the answer I needed.
Which was: Pay this amount today and everything goes away.
By the time I hung up, my hand was shaking. I stood outside staring at the parking lot. A quarter million dollars. I had signed my name next to a quarter million fucking dollars less than two hours ago. And I couldn't use a dime of it yet.
I laughed.
I couldn't help it.
It wasn't funny. That was probably why I laughed harder.
“Nyrobi?”
Mama came to the doorway, and I wiped my face before turning around.
“We gotta go.”
She stared at me.
“What?”
“We gotta move.”
Her shoulders dropped.
“When?”
“Soon.”
“How soon?”
I didn't answer fast enough.
“Nyrobi.”
I told her.
Mama grabbed the doorframe and I immediately stepped toward her.
“Sit down.”
“I'm okay.”
“Sit down, Mama.”
“I said I'm okay.”
“And I said sit down.”
She let me guide her back to the couch.
I crouched in front of her.
“Don't get worked up.”
“How I'm not supposed to get worked up? Where we going?”
“I'll figure it out.”
“With what money?”
“I got money coming.”
“When?”
I didn't answer.
Her eyes went straight through me.
“Exactly.”
“I can get a room.”
“With what?”
“I work at a hotel ma.”
“For how long, Nyrobi?”
“I don't know!”
My voice came out louder than I meant it to and my mama got quiet.
I closed my eyes.
“I'm sorry.”
She reached for my hand.
“No, I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
“All this.”
I looked at her.
“What are you talking about?”
“If I wasn't sick?—”
“No.”
“If you didn't have to buy my medicine?—”
“Mama, stop.”
“If I could still work?—”
“Stop.”
Her eyes filled.I hated that.
I stood up.
“We're not doing this.”
“Nyrobi—”