Too Real Estate
“Hello, Mona?”
Lana answers on the first ring, yet it doesn’t feel fast enough. Not with the urgency that’s kept me buzzing in my apartment
all morning.
“Hi, so, you haven’t answered my email. Did you see the plans I sent over?”
After hours in bed staring at the ceiling, I pulled out my laptop and did what I do best during times of stress—make a thorough,
color-coded plan. I created a grid for all the bills and repeating services on the property, a graph showing the rate the
rents could gradually increase over the course of five years to come up to market value, and a budget for a live-in super
who could handle the day-to-day when Irene couldn’t. It’s not perfect, but it keeps Irene owning her home, and the community
just that much more intact.
Three cups of coffee on an empty stomach later, my hands are shaking. “What do you think?” I ask again, shifting at her silence.
“Ah yes, thanks for sending that over. Very interesting proposal.” Lana’s voice is distant and bored, not a hint of the urgency
I’ve been feeling.
“So, are you going to call off the sale?” Again, I can’t keep the anxiety out of my voice.
Lana’s laughter cuts through the line. “Mona, you know I can’t do such a thing. I’m a realtor, I sell properties. What would
my clients think?”
“I get that it’s a little odd, but I’ve thought about it, and Missy and Robin seemed nice. They’d probably understand.”
“Missy and Robin? Mona, the purchaser is Northern Property Management. Their firm is familiar with the area, and their offer
was very generous.”
“Northern Property Management!” I can’t help it. I actually squeal. They’re the construction company Sami hates the most,
the one with the dirty construction sites on either side of Valleyview Apartments. “Lana, they’ll demolish the building and
keep it as an empty lot gathering trash for years.” I hate the tremble in my voice—the way emotion creeps in despite promising
myself I’d handle this professionally.
“The buyer intends to use the land to build a new apartment complex, one with all the modern amenities expected for a unit
in this area. That’s a good thing, Mona.” She sounds almost bored.
“Lana, you can’t let Northern Property Management buy this place. You know seeing this place torn down would break your aunt’s
heart.”
For the first time, her voice softens. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s the best offer we had by a mile, so—”
I interrupt. “There’s no way your aunt is signing off on this! No way.” Because how can she not see how unreasonable she’s
being?
“Actually, she already has. Yesterday morning. I wanted to make sure she would accept before I told you the good news.” Her
voice lowers. “Look, it’s heartbreaking, but Mona, this needed to happen. I have been temporarily managing her finances, and
it’s clear how bad things have gotten. I’m doing the best I can by her, and this buyer is giving her far more of a nest egg
than her emotional attachments ever could. Of course she saw that she had to sign.”
I flash back to my conversation with Irene—that sad, wistful look in her eye. It was her form of saying goodbye.
“But the residents, these people’s homes!” My voice is starting to sound whiny—I can hear it. I’ve already lost, that much is clear. But I can’t stop myself from grasping for some loophole, trying to claw my way out of this mess.
Lana lets out an exasperated sigh. “While I of course sympathize with the residents, my responsibility is to serve the client’s
best interest. I’m sure you can understand this.” Her cool detachment only sharpens the pain. The subtext is clear: Lana is
going to be my client now too.
I try one more time. “No. I know there’s another option. I sent you a plan that would work!”
Lana’s candor counteracts mine with its professional monotone. “And if you’d put that together weeks ago, before all this,
I would’ve considered it, but genuinely it’s too late now.”
“It’s not too late! That’s the thing, Lana—it’s never too late unless you give up or die.” I choke on my words. “Your aunt
can’t just lose her life’s work. You have the power to stop this ball rolling and do the real right thing by her.”
Her sigh is almost charitable, like she’s losing patience with a child. “Mona, that’s sweet that you’ve had this, er . . .
revelation, but it doesn’t change the real world. It doesn’t change business. Of course, the transaction can’t be stopped
now.”
“Lana, please. I will go over everything with your aunt myself. I can help her. If she sees this, I’m sure she’d be happy
to try to save this place.”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end, then a long exhale. “My aunt has endured enough stress over this already.”
“I won’t ask for any favors—you don’t have to rent me that new apartment and I will no longer hold you to working with my
firm; in fact, I can reach out to my office right now to put a halt to it—”
“Trust me, Mona, you won’t be doing her any favors confusing her with false hopes,” Lana interrupts, with a sharpness to her
voice. “And if you no longer support me and my client’s best interests maybe we should—”
“I do support this.” I interrupt this time. There’s no way I’m letting Lana slip away now. Not after everything. “I think I’m just missing the vision? Can you send me the proposal when you can?”
“Sure.” Her voice softens a touch. “And Mona, I know you’ve put a lot of work into this place, but you can relax now. You
have a better life awaiting you. Be happy about that. Enjoy the weekend, even.”
“Thanks.” I nod even though she can’t see me. And even though I no longer believe that’s true. It can’t be if this building
is destroyed. If all my friends are displaced.
Despite the happy smell of maple syrup, I tense as I enter the diner.
“Hey, Mona!” Sami says, the wrinkle between his eyes smoothing and his lips quirking upward. Since yesterday morning, we’ve
seen each other twice for our Ernest exchanges, both conversations lasting way longer than what would be considered reasonable.
And how many times did I rush past this diner to get to my office in the morning without seeing that grin? It seems unfathomable
that I knew he existed, yet never allowed myself to meet him.
My stomach does a flip-flop as I head for my usual stool. “This seat taken?”
“Of course. You’ve got your pick of the lot.”
I glance around. Yet again the diner is completely devoid of other customers.
He places a glass of water in front of me and leans across the counter to bend his head closer to mine. “Are you free Monday
night? My meat vendor will be making his delivery, and I added some nice steaks for us.”
“That sounds great.” Though I’m not sure Sami will want to talk to me by then. Not after I tell him what I came here to say.
“But Sami, actually I . . .”
I pause, my whole body physically resisting the words. Once I tell him the truth, it’ll be over—and I don’t want it to be. He’s looking at me with that adorable grin, his eyes glinting with affection. He’s always made me feel so comfortable, like I can totally be myself with him.
It’s like a Band-Aid. The longer I wait, the worse it’ll be. If I confess now, at least there’s a chance he could forgive
me one day. No matter what, he deserves my honesty.
I take a deep breath, open my mouth, and say, “What’s the soup of the day?”
He quirks a brow. “We have broccoli cheddar.”
“Great. I’ll take a bowl of that.” I’m not stalling, I just need soup first.
Sami brings over a bowl, and I stir it in a haze, watching the yellow and green chunks swirl around.
I came here with a plan. But in order to initiate it, I have to come clean.
I clear my throat. “Hey, Sami, I—”
Abu comes bursting down the stairs. He’s in a nice suit, his hair combed back and gelled, making the thinner areas more prominent.
He makes his way across the floor and thwacks Sami’s arm. “Why are you staring at Mona like a creepy type of guy?”
Sami winces and rubs the part of his arm where his dad hit. “Dad, what the hell?”
Abu shrugs and gives Sami an exasperated stare, like he had no other choice. “You stare too hard when you look at Mona. It’s
very rude.”
Ava comes bounding down the stairs behind Abu, wearing a flowery dress and smiling at us sweetly, her hair curled and fluffed.
“Hello, Mona joon.”
“Hello.” I grin. “You two are looking sharp.”
“That’s because Ava and I have very nice funeral to go to.” He smiles brightly. “It’s going to be a good one. I brought my big belt for the food.”
Sami rolls his eyes. “Dad, that’s . . . A man is dead.”
“What? Only met him twice but he was a piece of shit. The family is rich. I think there will be lobster.”
I can’t suppress the way my shoulders shake at his antics. “Lobster at a funeral? Get me on the list too.”
Abu’s eyes brighten. “Mona understands finances. She’s not dumb.”
I can’t help but giggle, but it fades as the sadness creeps back in. I’m going to miss this diner so much.
How could I have done any of it?
“Well, thankfully your taxi is here.” Sami nods out the front window as his parents make their way out with a series of jovial
goodbyes.
I nod at the CALM THE CONSTRUCTION sign Sami posted on the door. “Hey, your petition . . . The submission date is Monday,
right?”
His jaw clenches. “Yep. That’s when the construction permit meeting for this area is.” He lets out a disgruntled huff and
slings his washcloth over his shoulder. “Unfortunately, we’re short an astronomical amount of signatures. But maybe next time,
I can advertise more, and—”
“I’m afraid we don’t have that kind of time.”
He stills. It’s now. I need to confess. Not for myself, but for him. So he can make the best decision for this place, and
for himself.
“What do you mean?”
I look at the faux-granite grain on the laminate countertop. “Northern Property Management made an offer on Irene’s property.”
“Bastards!” he shouts, then pauses. “But Irene would never sell to them.”
Except it must be painted on my face. Because as soon as Sami looks at me, he drops his face into his hands.
“Fuck, she did?”
I nod once, even though he can’t see it. “Sami . . . I, um. She didn’t have much of a choice.”