”Um, I beg to differ,” Dad says. “I am the superior parent.”
”You’re both equal,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Come on, Babe, let’s go get dressed.”
Harper bounces in the backseat, fists excitedly pumping in the air as we drive to meet Mark at the first rental house on our list. It’s a small two bedroom home in an older neighborhood, but it’s in a cul-de-sac with a pretty big backyard for Arko. I pull into the driveway next to a shiny new Lexus, which must belong to the real estate agent. He greets me with a firm handshake.
“Ready to look inside?” he asks.
”Yes!” Harper says loud enough for all of us.
The exact moment our feet step into this house we all know the answer: No way in hell. The whole place reeks. Like mold and mildew. We don’t even walk through the house to give it the benefit of the doubt. Nope, onto the next one.
The second house doesn’t have a bad smell to it, so that’s one thing going for it. But there’s only one bathroom which is so small it just has a pedestal sink. No cabinets, no countertops.
”We have way too much stuff for the three of us to share this tiny bathroom,” Keanna says.
Harper walks down the hall to the bedrooms and scrunches her nose. “I don’t like this place.”
Everything is dated and the carpet is filthy. The baseboards and doors are scratched and chewed up from the previous tenant's dogs.
“What does this place cost?” Keanna asks Mark.
He glances at his phone. “Looks like they’re asking for two thousand a month plus utilities. But the neighborhood has a shared swimming pool.”
“That’s way too much money,” she says. “I’m not feeling this one. What about you, babe?”
I shrug. I could live anywhere, but this home is just dumpy. My girls deserve better. “Let’s see house number three.”
The next house is about fifteen minutes away. I follow Mark in my truck, and Harper sings along to the radio. She doesn’t know the words but she happily makes them up.
Keanna sighs. “These houses have sucked. The first one actually looked cute in the photos online. I hope the next one is better.”
“We’ll find something,” I say, reaching over and squeezing her leg.
Harper says, “We need the blue house!”
”What blue house?” I ask, looking at her smiling face in my rearview mirror.
”The house I drew!” she says, rolling her eyes like I’m a big dummy for not instantly knowing what she was talking about.
”Ooh, your beautiful drawing,” I say, nodding. “I would love a house like that. What about you, Mommy?”
Keanna nods. “Harper is a great artist. Maybe she’ll grow up to be an architect.”
Harper makes a disgusted face. “No, I am going to be a singer and a dirt bike racer! And I will live in my blue house. Mommy and Daddy can live in it with me.”
”That’s very generous of you,” Keanna says, grinning at me. Harper has not been allowed to ride a dirt bike yet, but she loves sitting in front of me while I putt around the grass on my bike. I don’t know where the singer thing came from, but she does love watching musicals and making up the words to every melody she hears.
The third house is newer. Small, with two bedrooms, but it has two baths so it’s workable. We walk through the whole thing, not finding anything wrong with the house, and things are finally starting to feel more optimistic.
And then we open the back door.
The back yard—if you can even call it that—is only a foot deep and then it becomes a gravel parking lot, which is the back lot of a shopping center behind this neighborhood. There are no fences whatsoever, and the greasy smell of fast food hits you like a punch in the face.
“Oh my gosh,” Keanna drops her hand in front of Harper to prevent her from walking into the parking lot. “This is not a back yard?”
”Yeah, it’s pretty tight,” Mark says. “This land was empty for the longest time, and then some developer squeezed in a few houses back here.”
”They think this house is pet friendly?” I ask.
