2. Miles
MILES
Two weeks paid house hunting and four weeks at a long-term-stay hotel when I started had sounded like an amazing deal when I accepted the job. I would start my new life, basically get a free month of housing, and then take my time to pick out the perfect apartment. Easy peasy.
I learned very quickly there was nothing easy or peasy about it.
The house-hunting trip told me that a perfect apartment didn’t exist. I told myself that was fine. I didn’t need perfection. All I needed was a place where Marmalade, the world’s best cat, and I could be safe and comfortable. No bells and whistles needed.
That, too, was easier said than done.
The past three weeks since starting work, I’d spent every free hour searching for or touring apartments, lowering my bar daily. I was at the point where barely acceptable was good enough and was striking out at that.
I just came out of the fifth showing of the day, the twelfth of the weekend, and it was the worst one yet.
There was an actual pot in the closet collecting water from a leak, with no sign that they were ever going to fix it.
The walls were covered in mold, pieces of the ceiling littered the floor, and they had a plastic tarp on the floor catching the overflow.
The apartment situation was so different from where I’d come from.
For my last place, I had to pay first and last, and the last doubled as a security deposit, which didn’t make sense.
But when they’d said I didn’t have to pay my final month, I was grateful.
That last month’s rent covered Marmalade’s boarding during the move.
The market here was frustrating, to say the least. I was filling out applications and background checks and credit checks left and right, all of them coming with a stupid fee attached, and that was only to see the place.
Some rejected me outright saying I hadn’t been with my current job for long enough.
Duh. It was new. Others used my salary as an excuse, wanting me to make over four times my income instead of the standard three.
Not a single one of them returned my fee, which felt illegal, but I was in no position to fight the process. I needed a place… yesterday.
I still hadn’t figured out where I was going to get the first month’s rent, last month’s rent, security deposit, pet deposit, cleaning fees, parking rentals on top of all these application fees.
I had what I thought was enough money saved, but after crunching numbers, I was slapped in the face with the reality that I didn’t have anywhere close to enough.
Worst-case scenario I’d charge it, but that would hurt.
The one I loved wouldn’t let me keep Marmalade.
Their “pets allowed” meant goldfish in a bowl, not a tank.
I’d hardly call that pet friendly. There were quite a few places that allowed my fur baby, but they required large pet deposits, and in a few cases, pet rent.
As if Marmalade being in the place somehow justified $250 a month.
It was getting to the point where I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.
I stood in the doorway of the building housing the free bucket with rental.
The skies had opened up and it was pouring, so I decided to stay put while trying to figure out what to do next.
There were no more apartments on the list. If luck was on my side, some new ones would pop up tonight on one of the listing sites I was using and I’d be able to go tomorrow after work to tour it. I wasn’t holding my breath.
This was getting exhausting.
The rain slowed, and I bolted to my car and drove back to the hotel that was mine for a little while longer.
I’d inquired with them how much it would be to stay an extra week or possibly month after I toured a place where there was a communal bathroom on a different floor than my “apartment.” When they showed me the numbers, I nearly cried on the spot.
I’d asked people at work how they found their place and if they knew of any availability, and most of them either lived with family, were married, or had been in the city a long time back before rents exploded. No one had any suggestions other than to keep trying.
In hindsight, I should’ve looked into this before I accepted the position, but there was no going back to my old job now. They’d already filled the position, and at least here I had a paycheck.
Besides, I needed this new start. I’d been stuck in the same position for two years with no upward mobility available. I’d hit that ceiling and was stuck. This new place, there was a growth path I could follow, and I was excited for that. I needed to get over this bump first.
“This is what you wanted,” I reminded myself.
I tapped the key card and went into my room.
The guy at the front desk teased when I first got the place that this was as nice as an apartment, or at least I thought he was teasing at the time.
It had a bed, a dresser, a table that could barely hold two plates, a microwave, and a college-sized fridge.
How could that be better than an apartment?
But now that I’d seen what was out there? It was a warning.
I opened the little plastic door of the freezer section in the fridge. It barely kept things frozen and could only hold a couple of items. I pulled out a burrito, popping it in the microwave. Dinner of champions.
I needed a plan, a better one than whatever it was I was doing now.
I started up my laptop, and as I ate my burrito, I looked at the roommate-wanted section—something I swore I’d never do.
I didn’t want to live with strangers. Too many Datelines started that way, but it was looking increasingly like I’d have to, and it would suck.
The prices weren’t much better than the rents I’d seen, and I’d probably need to continue with my storage unit, which was already costing a lot more than I expected it would.
The roommate listings were as bad as I feared.
Two-bedroom apartments, looking for a fifth roommate.
One-bedroom apartments, looking for a fourth.
They had to be like a college dorm, shoving bunk beds everywhere, or worse.
One stated the couch was available… The couch.
No room. No bed. Just the pleasure of coach surfing for $500 a month… Ridiculous.
There were multiple that had emojis about drinking, smoking, and drugs.
I appreciated them being upfront, but hard pass.
One only had the room available three days a week, and one was a ten-floor walk-up, with an asterisk next to it, saying, “Or until the elevator is fixed.” That didn’t sound so bad until I read “RIP Elevator” with a date over three years ago.
The more I looked, the worse my situation was looking.
I’d done the calculations the night before.
I could manage to stay in this hotel for another month if I had to, but it would suck up what I thought was going to be my first and last. It was a short-term solution making a long-term solution nearly impossible.
Maybe there were other long-term hotels with by-the-week rentals in sketchier parts of town.
The option wasn’t great, but it would do.
My phone rang. I usually kept the notifications off, but with a new job, I wasn’t sure if they’d call me in, and this time it was good because the number was the real estate agent who had shown me quite a few of the places I’d looked at.
“Good news. We just got a listing for an apartment that seems to meet all your needs.”
“Including my cat?”
“Yeah, including your cat. No pet deposit or anything. And it’s below your budget. It’s a decent commute to your job. And it’s available immediately.”
“What’s wrong with it?” When something sounded too good to be true, it always was.
“Nothing. It just became available, and it’s a building that tends to have pretty steady residents. One of my coworkers who retired usually did their listing, but it got passed to me which is good for you. The owner wants it rented quickly.”
I peppered her with questions, including if they needed a 42-year lease.
She laughed. “Nope, standard one year with option to renew.”
“Am I gonna get killed in the neighborhood going home?” I was only half kidding.
“Do you plan on walking in front of moving cars?”
“And you’re absolutely sure that Marmalade can stay?”
“One hundred percent.”
My biggest expense since moving here so far was Marmalade staying at the kennel. She had a huge room to herself, and I went to visit her every day after work. But it wasn’t fair to her, and it was part of the reason why I nearly took the bucket-in-the-closet place.
“So when can I go see it?”
“I’ll send you pictures. But honestly, I wouldn’t wait to see it. I would sign now.”
“And you’ve been in this building before?”
“I haven’t, but I looked at the notes my coworker left, and I trust her. It’s gonna be gone.”
Every single warning signal should’ve been going off in my head, telling me not to sign it sight unseen. But knowing there was an affordable place that accepted Marmalade and and that at max was a one-year commitment? I had to do it.
She sent me the paperwork, and I pulled it up and read it. It was a very typical lease. The rent was exactly what she said. The utilities that were included were the stuff of rental dreams. The parking was included. They had no pet fee. It was the ideal place, at least on paper.
I signed it, sent it off, closed my laptop, and went to take a shower, my rain-drenched body needing it.
By the time I’d gotten out, my application was approved, and I had a link for my deposit. It was official. I’d rented an apartment that I’d never seen.
My alarm went off. It was time to visit Marmalade. The kennel opened from four to six for people who were picking up their pets on Sunday, and they allowed me to spend that time with her. They were the best.
When I first said I wanted to visit her, they gave me a look of disbelief. Most people used it for vacations. It wasn’t like they could swing on by to give pets. Now, as soon as I walked in, they waved and buzzed me back. It was more like home than the place I was sleeping.
They were packed when I arrived, and I went straight back to her little suite. I refused to give her a tiny little room, even though financially that was a foolish decision. Her stay was too long for that.
“Hey, Marmalade. Daddy’s got good news for you.” I squatted down, and she raced over. “We got a new apartment. It’s going to be great. There’s no bucket collecting water in the closet. The neighborhood’s safe, and Daddy will be able to afford your favorite cat treats. How would you like that?”
She climbed up on my shoulder and licked my ear, purring away.
“Daddy thinks so too.”