Chapter 20 #2
We started in Gabriella’s side of the house. The living room was immaculate, with her colorful throw pillows neatly arranged on the couch and not a speck of dust in sight. Anya nodded appreciatively as she walked through the space, her digital pen hovering above her tablet but not making a mark.
“Looks like your tenant takes good care of her space,” Anya commented.
“Gabriella is very responsible,” I agreed, hoping my living quarters would fare just as well.
We moved on to my side. The bedrooms were tidy, with Elijah’s things put away and the bed made.
But when we got to the bathrooms, Anya’s forehead wrinkled as she opened the lower cabinet and noticed some water droplets on the pipes under the sink.
“This could lead to mold, which is very dangerous for the respiratory system, especially for seniors,” she warned me, jotting down a note.
She checked the windows, toilet, and tub. “It’s not major, but you might want to reseal the caulking around the bathtub and sink in the bathroom that wasn’t remodeled. That helps prevent mold, too.”
My heart sank at the thought of hidden dangers lurking in my home, but I tried to focus on the fact that it was something fixable. I could handle this.
In the laundry room, Anya turned her attention to the hot-water heater.
It was rusty and, I noticed for the first time, seemed to lean ever so slightly to one side.
“This is a crucial fix, for the sake of your hygiene,” she said, adding another note to her growing list. She was using that tablet to take pictures.
“Of course,” I murmured, feeling the cumulative drag of all the repairs pulling me down. “I’ll make sure to get that taken care of.”
“Good,” Anya replied, her tone steady as a metronome. Back in the day, Anya could have been a telephone operator with that even tone of hers. Or a poker player, the way she played it calm.
As we wrapped up the inspection, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my fresh start in life was turning out to be more complicated than I’d imagined. Yet with each discovered issue, I also felt a growing determination to prove that I could handle it all and live life on my own terms.
“Let’s take a look at the kitchen, since this is the area you’ve expressed concern about.”
We moved to the kitchen, where Anya inspected the electrical outlets and appliances.
“Ms. Hicks, the wiring in this kitchen is quite outdated,” she said, her fake pen poised above her notebook.
“If the electricity isn’t repaired soon, it’s definitely a dangerous situation. Let’s make this the priority.”
My heart raced as I tried to keep my composure. I wanted to say, “Duh! This is why I reached out in the first place.” Frustration bubbled within me, and I found myself desperate for a moment alone. “Excuse me for just a moment,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“Of course, take your time,” Anya replied, continuing her inspection of the kitchen.
As soon as I closed the bathroom door behind me, I leaned against the sink and took a few deep breaths.
Gabriella’s words echoed in my mind: We’re in this together.
I turned on the faucet, splashed cold water on my face, and faced myself in the mirror.
I looked tired, but determined. For the first time, I noticed the faint gurgling noise the water made as it flowed from the tap.
It struck me that this sound might hint at a more serious plumbing issue.
Wait—has it always sounded like that? I’m paranoid.
All I wanted was to get Anya out of my house so I could regroup and think straight again. I wiped my face with a towel, took one last deep breath, and returned to the kitchen.
Anya stood at the sink, her eyes fixated on the wine bottle Gabriella and I had opened the other night. “Do you or your tenant frequently drink alcohol?” she asked.
“No,” I replied, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Gabriella and I only had a drink the other night at the park. Just a little celebration of our own. That’s not illegal, is it?” So much for a neutral consternation.
Anya’s eyebrows rose in surprise and concern. “Well, I should let you know that drinking in public parks is, actually, illegal in this county,” she said.
My heart dropped as another wave of fear washed over me. Is she also some kind of lawyer? I didn’t know that—it was an honest mistake. And today, every little detail was being scrutinized by this woman from Adult Protective Services.
“Thank you for telling me,” I managed to say. “It won’t happen again.”
Anya nodded and closed her notebook. “Ms. Hicks, I’m really just wondering if Gabriella, who is paying so little rent, might be taking advantage of you. And if she’s a good influence. Is there anyone else in your family who can help care for you? Your children? A close niece or a nephew?”
Tears threatened to spill over as I shook my head, answering no to all her questions. It felt like salt in the wound, knowing that my family wasn’t around to help me through this time.
“All right, Ms. Hicks,” Anya said softly, clearly noticing my distress. “I’m going to give you fifteen business days to address the issues we’ve discussed today.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, wiping away a tear that had escaped. “I appreciate your understanding.”
“Take care, Ms. Hicks,” Anya said as she walked toward the door. “And remember that there are resources available to support you in this process.”
Resources, my foot. I didn’t want anything from the state or any of its nonprofit friends if it would only add to my stress.
“I’ll contact you to set up a time for a second inspection and to follow up on any concerns related to emotional and social support,” Anya informed me.
“Thank you, Anya. I’ll do my best,” I replied, trying to sound confident despite the fear gnawing at my insides. I walked her to the front door, feeling incredibly vulnerable as I watched her walk away.
“Lord, help me,” I whispered as I closed the door behind her. It was then that I noticed Miss Mary approaching with mail in hand, her eyes following Anya’s retreating figure.
“Joyce, honey, I know that woman and that car,” Miss Mary said, shaking her head as she handed me the mail. “What did she say to you?”
I couldn’t hold back any longer. My tears flowed freely as I told Miss Mary about Anya’s visit, the problems with the house, and the fifteen-day deadline. As I spoke, it felt like I was releasing a pressure valve inside me, allowing all the pent-up emotions to escape.
“I’m sorry for blubbering all over you like that,” I said, wiping my eyes again. “I just feel so overwhelmed trying to get this house fixed up while still getting my feet under me in this town.”
“Oh, hush, you just let it all out,” Miss Mary tutted, patting my shoulder. “A good cry cleanses the soul. And Lord knows you’ve had a time of it.”
Miss Mary looked thoughtful for a moment, her gaze drifting off into the distance.
“You know, I’ve known that child’s people for a long time,” she began, her voice gentle and reassuring.
“Her grandparents died when a rotting tree fell on their house, and ever since then, she’s been a stickler for dotting all the i’s and crossing all the t’s in the name of protecting people. ”
I blinked, surprised by this revelation. It suddenly made sense why Anya was so thorough, her demeanor bordering on severity.
“Anya means well, Joyce,” Miss Mary continued, meeting my eyes. “And she won’t budge on her convictions. So you’d best follow her rules. And get you some more players in the game.”
“Players?” I asked, my brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“More people to help you, honey,” she clarified, her eyes twinkling with determination. “You can’t do the stuff you just told me about all on your own. You need support from friends, neighbors, in addition to professionals to fix every problem in this here house.”
I sighed, feeling both grateful for Miss Mary’s advice and overwhelmed by the thought of finding help. “I don’t even know where to start,” I admitted, my hands wringing together anxiously.
“Start by asking around,” Miss Mary suggested, her voice warm and encouraging. “Talk to people at church, at the grocery store, or even down at the community center. There are plenty of folks in this town who would be willing to lend a hand if they knew you needed it.”
“But would they really?” I asked, doubt creeping into my voice. “I’m not exactly…well known around here.”
“Joyce, that doesn’t matter,” Miss Mary insisted, placing a comforting hand on my arm. “What matters is that you’re in need, and people will step up when it counts if you ask.”
Her words resonated deep within me. I knew she was right. I had to put aside my pride and ask for help if I wanted to keep my home and prove myself as an independent woman.
“All right,” I agreed, nodding determinedly. “I’ll start asking the few people I do know. And thank you, Miss Mary, for the advice.”
“Child, independence is overrated. We all need each other sometimes,” she replied with a knowing smile. “Now, you’d best get moving. Three weeks will be here before you know it, and you’ve got plenty of work to do.”