A Quite Moving Day
My mom had to go into work to thread a bunch of women’s eyebrows for some bridal party this evening, so I ended up grabbing
an Uber. The driver was objectively aggressive, which did little for my nerves. When we turned onto Memorial Drive, he honked
and flipped off some family in a Subaru. Twice! And when he vented to me about the assholes on the road, I felt it best to
agree with everything he said from the backseat of his car. I even added one: “Yeah, this city is full of shit drivers.” For good measure.
I was carrying a couple of cardboard boxes to pack my clothes in. Showing up to Valleyview Apartments in my mom’s bedazzled
Britney Spears T-shirt wasn’t exactly the vision I had for this day, but it was better than any of the silky blouses on offer.
I’m a little bit early when we pull up in front of the building, but already most of the residents are settled out front,
hoisting their own boxes and suitcases. Norm looks like he got a much shorter haircut. It suits him. He and Carmen stand together,
while Divorced Dad and Fighting Couple perch on opposite sides of the front gables like British guards. Behind them, all three
of the Chaudhrys converse with a firefighter.
My driver taps his fingers against the wheel as I struggle to remove all my boxes. As he pulls away, I tap my phone to give
him his five stars and tip.
Right. I look at the gathering crowd as I pocket my phone. All of them seem to be in lively discussions. No one’s glanced in my direction.
It’s definitely time to face the music.
I make my way toward the small group as one of the mustached fireman I recognize from the first alarm starts going over instructions
about safety and warning people not to open their refrigerators since the power has been out for days.
I can’t help it as my eyes drag toward the diner. There’s nothing to see, nobody perched underneath the familiar Corner Coffee
& Food sign. Sami’s not changing out the communal water bowl for the neighborhood dogs, or putting out food for the crows
in hopes they’ll one day give him a button, or any of the other thoughtful little things he does. In fact, through the window,
I don’t see any silhouettes. The lights aren’t on. I bite back my disappointment. Obviously, he’s not going to come here today.
As I merge into the group that’s forming outside the front entrance, Carmen nudges Norm. “I’m not looking forward to what
remains of the clam chowder I had for lunch the night of the fire.”
Norm shakes his head. “I had just cleaned my fridge, but there was still milk inside.” He angles his head and spots me standing
behind him. His easy expression falls in an instant.
“Hey, Norm.” I wave awkwardly. “I like your haircut.”
“Thanks,” Norm mutters, keeping his jaw tight.
“That’s what’s different about you!” Carmen smacks his back. “I thought something was a little funny but didn’t want to ask. It looks
very sharp.”
“Yeah, I cut it for work.” His hands clench into little fists around the bottom of his shirt. “I’ve been going into the office
these past few days since I don’t have my laptop, and you know how it is with the corporate folks.” His eyes flash to me.
“If I can get my computer today, I’ll work from my Airbnb.”
“You’ve been going in?” I can’t help but interject. “Wow, that’s great.” My tone is too bright, and it only seems to spur more cold looks my way. “How has it been?” I press on.
At least now Norm is looking at me full-on. “It’s . . . not as bad as I thought. I might do it more often.” He shuffles his
brown leathery shoes against the cracked pavement.
I nudge closer to Carmen, who looks like he’s been getting a lot of sun. “It’s good to see you too. I’m sure you’re looking
forward to getting all your stuff back.”
Carmen exhales sharply, his urge to complain apparently outweighing his anger toward me. “It’ll be a pain moving all my crap
into the new storage unit, but I suppose it’ll be for the best, long term.” He rubs his forehead with the tips of his fingers.
“My sister said she don’t want me bringing none of my clients by while I’m staying with her. Ah, shit—” He stands straight
and grins toward Fancy Widow, who is wheeling an actual old-fashioned trunk up the path. “I’ll go see if Lorna needs any help.
I’ll catch you later, Norm.”
Even though he wasn’t talking to me, I call out, “It’s good to see you doing okay.”
He hesitates, not fully turning. “Take care, Mona.” He waves over his shoulder. Carmen never looked at me once.
With Carmen gone, Norm starts easing away from me toward the Chaudhrys. Once again, I’m alone in this group.
I deserve it.
I glance around at the pods of people. The Chaudhrys look pretty immersed in conversation, and Fighting Couple sound like
they’re having another spat, which, oddly enough, is kind of comforting. (Unfortunately, the feeling fades quickly when I’m
personally victimized by overhearing something about pube trimmings on Janine’s sister’s bathmat.)
I’m officially here alone.
I scan the crowd in both directions, but still no sign of Jane.
Maybe she had to take several buses to get here?
All day I’ve been building up in my head all the worst things she’d say to me—but now I worry that losing her home might’ve pushed her to do something drastic, like reach out to Trevor.
Honestly, I’d take a million of her insults without blinking if it meant knowing she’s okay.
The firefighter begins instructing us all about how to collect our stuff—how many rounds we can make, what size items, where
to leave trash since the parkade dumpster area is blocked off. I learn that some tenants plan on keeping their bigger furniture
here in hopes that this is only temporary.
We’re brought in a few at a time. I linger at the back of the line, letting everyone take their time. The sunlight fades,
and the crowd gradually thins. When it’s my turn, I’m alone. I follow the fireman into the lobby. None of the fake-cinnamon
or cabbage smells of home greet me. Instead, there’s a slight smoky dinge to the air and a dark dusting of soot on most every
surface.
The whiteboard in the lobby has been wiped clean. Someone removed the cum chair and the little library cabinet. They were
probably smoke damaged, but still, a feeling of loss sweeps through me. Their removal feels so final.
When my eyes drop to the floor, it’s a mess. Stains and ashy footprints from boots stomping through mark up the ancient unmarkable
carpet.
This poor building.
I don’t think I’ll ever see this place again, and it feels too important to leave without marking it somehow, without carrying
a piece of it with me.
I pull out my phone to take one final picture of my beloved lobby when I hear, “You investigating the panty thief again?”
I turn and lower my phone. Jane is standing by the open door in a plain grey dress. Her hair is tied in a nondescript low bun. It’s dyed the same color as when I last saw her, though the inky black shade has started to fade.
“Jane!” I can’t help but move toward her, overwhelming relief that she’s okay overtaking my better judgment. “It’s so good
to see you! Where did you get those clothes?”
She takes a small step back and crosses her arms. “Nothing exciting. Someone I work with lent them to me.”
“Wow, someone from your work?” I joke.
She raises a brow. “Yeah, I let them know my situation and I guess some of them are nicer than I once thought. Or my creep
radar isn’t as good as it once was.” She sighs, glancing around the messy lobby. “Anyway. Lots for me to do now. But I was
just wondering . . .” She pauses, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment. “That day I caught you taking pictures of the chair,
was that really about the panty thief?”
My eyes dart to my shoes. I hate making her feel like our friendship wasn’t authentic. “Jane, I’m so sorry for so much.”
She nods like this confirms every bad thought she has about me. “That’s what I figured.”
Her words hit me like pellets. “I’m sorry I lied. But I really enjoyed hanging out together,” I plead. “I wish we could still
be friends.”
She’s already backing toward the staircase. “Me too. But I guess we’re all going to be starting new lives again now, so I’ll
be off.”
I wait in the lobby for her footsteps to disappear before I dare follow.
As I leave my apartment, boxes of clothes in hand, I notice Irene’s door is open.
I put down my stuff and walk over. I don’t see anyone. The plants that were once scattered throughout her apartment are now gathered neatly in milk crates by the door.
I rap my knuckles against the wood.
From the back of the apartment, she yells, “Oh for crying out loud, I said don’t rush me! You try packing your entire life
into a bunch of Tupperware containers!”
Her bedroom door flies open. Irene emerges in a matching pink sweatsuit, face flushed. She’s on two feet, the boot gone.
“Irene!” I call. “Your cast is off.”
“Yes. Exciting how that can happen after six weeks, isn’t it?’ Her lips are pressed tight. “What can I do you for now? Did
Lana ask you to rifle through my silverware because I’m too old to eat solids? Or maybe you’re looking to kidnap Ernest for
the ransom? Because he’s out with Sami, so you’ll have to wait.”
My chest leaps at Sami’s name, just as quickly as it drops.
“Irene,” I say softly, “I understand why you’re upset with me. I want to formally apologize for all of it.”
“Those are pretty words.” Her eyes tilt downward. “If you’d brought ice cream, though, that would’ve been better.”
I can’t stand seeing this proud, boisterous woman looking so defeated. “Irene, I truly mean—”
She hacks a short laugh. “Mona, please stop apologizing. It’s very annoying.”
I can’t stand walking away from her without her knowing how much it tears me up to know how I hurt her. “When I first agreed
to help Lana, I thought I was helping you too. I should’ve realized—”
“Goddamnit, I accept.” She throws her hands above her head. “Truth is, I understand the reasoning behind it all. Things weren’t good here, and