Page 14 of Forbidden Fruit
I shake my head and make my way inside, helping the kids put on their coats before walking with them to school and the day passes much like the previous one.
Livia is easily distracted and loves to change activities very fast, so I’m working on patience with her, trying to teach her to persevere in one thing before switching to the next.
During her nap, I continue to read the family folder, learning about what Mr Marquesi thinks is important about his kids. From the amount of detail it’s obvious he’s attentive and cares about them. I admire that about him. He might be curt and can act like an asshole at times, but he seems to love his children.
When he comes back from work that day, I take the opportunity during our daily catch up to ask what I’ve been meaning to. My heart skips a beat, but I need a place to live more than I care about my bruised ego.
“Mr Marquesi, I have something to ask you.” If he is intrigued or concerned, he doesn’t show, but by now I’m learning that any show of emotions would be surprising. “I’m due to pay my rent today and I’d like to ask for an advance on my next pay cheque.”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to laugh or dismiss me.
“Of course. I’ll transfer you an advance tonight.”
“Oh. Okay, thank you,” I exhale heavily, relief spreading through my chest at the realisation that I’m not a total failure of a human being. I can function as an adult alone in this world.
I smile widely at him and his brow dips slightly, as if he’s curious why I’m so happy, but I’m not about to share that anything I can’t do that falls in the category of ‘adulting’ reminds me that, up until recently, I was little more than a servant who had never been to a city and whose life was controlled by someone who told her when to move, what to eat, to do chores all day, and that now, everything I can do on my own is a victory I worked hard to create for myself.
“I will see you on Monday, then. Have a good weekend, sir.”
I must imagine the clench of his jaw at the word.
I turn on my heels, a little cheer to my steps, my smile firmly on my face. I text Jade to meet me at the pier for a celebratory cocktail. The future is looking bright.
One thing I did not expect by asking for an advance on a Friday is that, with the way banks work, the money still isn’t on my account by Sunday evening. I spent the entire weekend refreshing the app on my phone, but my account stayed desperately empty.
I thought about texting my boss but refrained. I trust him to do what he said and I have enough experience now with the system to know the money is just ‘stuck’ in whatever limbo money flies to when it’s transferred from one account to the other.
A knock sounds on my door. I feel like I’m getting sentenced.
“Come in.”
“Hey, Vaness’,” my roommate says. I fucking hate the way he shortens my name. “Look, I really don’t want to have to do this, but you’re late with rent again.”
“I got paid, but it’s taking its time because of the weekend. I’ll have it on Monday.”
“You see, I already paid the landlord with your share, and I need the money back. I can’t keep bailing you out like this without getting some sort of interest on top. I’ve been very generous with you, but this just won’t work.”
“Please, Chris, I just need an extra day. I’ll transfer the money tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry, Vaness’. You’re nice, but I need someone reliable,” he says, while raising his hands condescendingly like he’s the one doing me a favour by kicking me out.
That weasel. Iamreliable. I’ve been working my ass off trying to get what I need, trying to just survive, scrapping cash together to save for chiropractic school and pay for rent at the same time, but he holds all the cards and I have nothing. He was looking for an excuse to kick me out. I know that, but the truth stings nonetheless.
“It’d be best if you leave by Wednesday. I’ll give you Monday and Tuesday for free to get back on your feet.”
“For free? Chris, you’re kicking me out. I’m not paying you a dime.”
“You still owe me this month’s rent.”
“You can bet your ass you’re not going to see the colour of that money,” I retort.
He advances on me, towering over me, trying to make himself look bigger to intimidate me, but I’m not scared of him. Strangely, I’m more scared of not being a functioning adult than of him hurting me.
“Listen, bitch…”
He raises his hands, grabbing my forearm, but I don’t let him finish his sentence or come any closer. With a quick jab of my fist into his kidney, he collapses on his knees, doubling over.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” he wheezes.