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“Yes, of course. There are two, I believe. One shared family bathroom and one ensuite off the master bedroom.”
“Kitchen?”
“Yes sir. Our rentals are vetted to the highest standards and this particular property has been recently, very tastefully, redecorated.”
“That’s great. And it’s fully furnished?” I check off the things I need on my fingers in turn. “Bed. Fridge. Cooktop. I don’t need an oven. Table. Chairs. Couch.”
“Yes sir. It’s fully furnished with every comfort for modern living, right down to cutlery, tableware, lamps, curtains, and blinds.” Ms Jenkins hands me a printout from the folder. “Here’s the itemized list of chattels.”
“Well then. I’m sure the house will be perfect.”
“For you and your family? How many children do you have?”
“No. Just me.”
“Alright. But if you sublet the spare rooms, that incurs an additional agreement.”
“No. Just me.”
“Absolutely, sir. Just give me one second while I get the agreement printed out.”
Ms Jenkins asks me for a character reference, and I give her Dex’s details.
“Ah, yes. Matthew Dexter. The fire chief. He is a wonderful man. So active in the community. If he’s your referee, that’s just super. Now. There’s no one living in the property at this present time, so everything’s good for you to move in today, if you have the month’s refundable deposit and three months’ rent upfront. That’s the minimum rental. How long are you planning to stay? There’s a discount for a two-year commitment, if that’s something that interests you?”
“Not right now thanks, ma’am.” I hand over my bank card and Ms Jenkins puts through the transaction.
“Right. Thank you, Mr Wickham, that’s all done.” She tears off the receipt and hands it to me along with my card. “But if you change your mind and you would like to extend the lease, please let me know before the three months expires, no problem. It’ll be my pleasure.”
“Thank you, Ms Jenkins, but I’ll be out in around two months. I’m here on a temporary contract.”
“Oh, I see. Right then.” Ms Jenkins smiles warmly. “Bristol Lane is a nice quiet neighborhood. I’m sure you’ll have a pleasant stay, Mr Wickham.”
After signing everything in triplicate, Ms Jenkins makes some copies then hands me a set of keys. She volunteers to come with me to show me around my new home, but I decline her kind offer. We shake hands and I leave the realtor at her desk still looking a little perplexed, and possibly pleased at the ease of the secured deal.
I know I’m here in Oak River for a good reason. My buddy, Dex, needs time with Meryl, his wife, and their soon-to-be-born first child. But I’m not so comfortable in a small town where everyone knows everyone else’s business.
I grew up in a Smallville like Oak River and couldn’t wait to leave for the big city as soon as I possibly could. The claustrophobic tittle-tattle of gossip and curbside small talk wore me out. Like living in a fishbowl. Something about Oak River awakens those teenage angsty feelings and puts me on guard. But this situation is only temporary, I remind myself. I’ll be gone in a few short weeks and back to the city life I love. Anonymity; noise; the fast pace; the bars, clubs, the nightlife; the basketball team; the gym; watching the playoffs with the guys on a big screen. And real emergency callouts where I feel I’m making a difference to people’s lives. Not turning up at non-fire emergencies or rescuing cats from trees, which hasn’t happened yet, but I’m primed for that scenario. My city life seems very far away right now. Never mind. I’ll make the best of it. As much as I can.
Later in the evening, I arrive at number four Bristol Lane with my things piled up on the back seat of my car: a backpack, a suitcase, and a cardboard box. I unlock the front door, find the mains switch in the cupboard under the stairs, turn on a light, and inhale the pleasant aroma of fresh paint and new carpet.
The décor is bland. Plain white walls lack any kind of character, but that’s what I want. There’s nothing here to get attached to. The house is as utilitarian as an army barracks: exactly what I need and nothing more. The clean neutral tones are restful and a huge improvement on the over-bright floral wallpaper of the motel room where I’ve been laying my head the past few nights.
Upstairs I find the master bedroom. It’s sparse: one queen-size bed, a side table, and lamp. The double doors in one wall indicate a closet. Perfect. I bought a new set of sheets, pillows, a comforter, and a set of bath towels. I dump them on the mattress still wrapped in plastic packaging.
From the window, I can see the street and the front of Molly’s house which is partially hidden by a stand of trees. I wonder if she’s home yet, and if she’ll think it weird if I call round to say hi. Or if I should wait a couple of days. Or would that be weird?
As I’m thinking about Molly, I realize I have been pacing up and down my bedroom. Anyone looking in would think I was weird. I laugh to myself and go back downstairs to the lounge. I pull out my phone from my jeans pocket, make myself comfortable on the dark gray leather couch, and dial Dex.
“Hey, bud. Guess where I’m calling from?”
“Not Richmond, I hope,” Dex replies with a laugh.
“Nope. I’m in the lounge of my new abode.”
“Well. Aren’t you a man of mystery? You don’t muck around, do you, Cam?”
“So, if you get a call from a certain Ms Jenkins at Oak River Realtors, say something nice about me because I dropped your deets as a character referee.”
