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Not having class for the next few days seemed to be in my favor, considering the circumstances. Not only did it mean I had a stay of execution when it came to facing Brooke, it also meant I had a few full days to put a dent in the community service Chris and I had to pull because of the whole getting arrested fiasco.
Somehow, Mom had managed to smooth things over a little regarding the underage possession incident, thanks to some of her connections. I felt kind of bad about that, almost ashamed. After all, if my mother hadn’t had connections, I’d have been up a creek without a paddle. It really didn’t seem all that fair in the overall scheme of things. But then again, I didn’t turn down her help, either—help that came with stipulations.
I'd been stuck at my mom's house since the arrest. Initially, she said I would have to move back home and stay there until I graduated. I knew she had my best interest in mind, and that scenario would likely have been great for my wallet and my grades, but it would have been hell on my social life and my sense of independence. Luckily for me, after nearly a week of having me back home, she calmed down some and changed her mind. Of course, those stipulations were still in play. There was a condition to her support in my moving back out on my own: I couldn’t move back in with Chris or any other “boozehound roommates” as she put it. It was a compromise I could easily live with.
Of course, moving out of the apartment I had with Chris meant I would lose my half of the deposit, but Mom reminded me that sometimes hard lessons were expensive. She also gave me the speech about being an adult and dealing with the consequences of my actions. When I tried to explain that I hadn’t actually even been at the apartment when everything went down, she quickly reminded me that the alcohol had been in the apartment for much longer than the two days I’d been gone and I was just as guilty and responsible for it being there as Chris. As much as I hated it, she was right. So, with a heavy heart, I had to man up.
I posted my motorcycle for sale on Craigslist. It was the only thing I could do to get enough cash to pay the deposit and several months’ rent for an apartment of my own on short notice. I decided I’d have to use part of the money from selling my bike to buy an old truck to get around in. It would suck compared to my motorcycle, but being responsible was what growing up was all about… right?
***
“Well, that's the last of my stuff,” I announced as I dropped the box on the living room floor by the door.
“You sure you wanna do this?” Chris asked. He looked a little sad.
“Dude, I told you, it’s part of the deal. I don’t know how she did it, but Mom saved our asses from some much more serious charges, and this is the price I have to pay for it. I have to be a man and accept responsibility for my actions, and part of accepting that responsibility is doing this. Besides, it’s not like I’m leaving the country or anything. I’ll just be ten minutes across town. ”
“I get you, bro, I get you. I know you're doing the right thing, but this place won't be the same without you around.”
I put the box down and gave him a hug. “I'll catch you later, man,” I said.
“Later, bro,” he muttered gloomily.
I picked up my box and headed out of the apartment. I couldn't resist pausing outside Brooke's apartment. I wondered if she was in and contemplated knocking on the door, maybe talking this whole thing over. But instead of knocking, I stood frozen for what felt like an eternity. I agonized over the choice in my head. I extended my hand and took a deep breath. I couldn't let things end with so much unsaid, I just couldn't.
But, just as my fist was about to rap on the door, I stopped, slumped my shoulders, sighed, and skulked away. I just couldn't face her.
I trudged down the stairs feeling like it might be the last time I'd ever be there. It wouldn't, of course. I was certain I'd come to visit Chris, but it sure felt final. I stopped on the way down the hall when I saw Jenkins mopping the floor. He glanced up and smiled when he saw me.
“Young Emerson! Well, how are you doin', boy? That's a big ol' box ya got there. Is it heavy? Need a hand?”
“Nah, it's just a bunch of clothes.”
“Oh, off to get some laundry done?”
“No,” I admitted. “I'm moving out, actually.”
Jenkins looked surprised. “Movin' out? Why?”
“Remember you warned me that one of the neighbors would call the cops if we kept on making a racket?”
“Uh-huh?”
“We kept on making a racket.”
“Ahhh. I see.” He leaned on his mop and shook his head. “I'm sorry it came to that,” he replied. “Guess this means the cops showed up?”
“They did.”
“You boys get busted? Have to pay a big-ass fine, permanent record?”
“No, thankfully just got community service. I mean, we got a record, but it'll be erased after six months if we pull our community service and don't commit any other offenses.”
He nodded. “Lucky kids. Well, I expect you'll at least come 'round to visit your friend Chris, won't ya?”
“I will.”
“Good, then this won't be the last I'll see of ya.”
