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“Friends?” she laughs, the word coming out like it got stuck in the back of her throat. “You really think we’re friends? Oh, bless you, Anna. You’re so naïve. We’re not friends.
“I took you in because the government paid me to do it. I got your half of the rent and I got the other half paid by Uncle Sam. I got to live there for free. That’s why I wanted you to move in. Money is what matters in this life, not friendship.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because now Gary moves in. You move out. I get the happy life I deserve, use the money you gave me to pay the deposit on my own place. You get to crawl back into the gutter where you belong.”
I manage to stop the tears, swallowing them down just as they’re about to come out. “Why are you so cruel?” I ask. “What did I ever do to you?”
“Gary told me you came onto him. Told me you tried to seduce him and he had to stop you. You think friends do that to friends, Anna?”
“And you believe him?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
I sigh. What’s the point? Men get believed. I don’t. “I hope you’ll be very happy together,” I say as I walk away from her.
I make it to the bus stop before I start crying. I genuinely thought we were friends. I really did. Two years in her apartment and she never once mentioned that she minded me sitting in my room, sketching. Not once.
I get a hold of myself before the bus pulls in. I climb onboard, sitting and staring out of the window, thinking about what the hell I’m going to do next.
Two
Anna
* * *
Iget home to find Larry standing outside my apartment, an envelope in his Cheetos stained hand.
“One hour,” he says, shoving the envelope into my hand. He walks away without another word, leaving a cloud of nicotine smoke and sweat behind him.
I tear open the letter addressed to me in scary red ink. Eviction notice. My eyes scan the words, taking them in, but not understanding them yet. Then it hits me. Employment is a specified condition of my tenancy, etc. No job equals no room. She must have planned this whole thing.
All because I tried to protect her from that asshole.
Gary told me a couple of nights ago that he was moving in soon, whether or not I approved of it. Had this great big smirk on his face, staring at my tits the entire time. Marie was in the bath and he was leering over me, same as every time he comes around.
Same as all men. Assholes, the lot of them.
They’re all a Gary or a Frank.
I only have to think about the way Frank said we could come to a deal and I feel ill. Him touching his crotch while he said it, making the open mouth gagging gesture that couldn’t mean anything else.
As if I would ever do that. I’d rather live on the streets than degrade myself like that. Which is convenient, because I’m about to live on the streets.
Maybe I should have swallowed my pride and swallowed him. At least I’d still have a roof over my head. A roof and a paycheck. Or let Gary move in. Maybe I should just give up on my moral standards. Can I afford to have any right now?
No, I’d never do that. Not for anyone.
I swear, I’m never having a relationship. Marie is the perfect example of what happens when you let a man into your life. You get blinded by love and let all the bullshit slide.
She couldn’t see beyond her need to get some approval from a father figure. Gary even looked like her dad. How Freudian is that?
Not me. I’ve got my dream and that’s all I need. Don’t laugh. One day I’ll have my own cartoon in a newspaper, syndicated ideally. Already thought it through. Called Cally. Named after my mom.
All my dreams in pen and ink, reaching into the heads of millions of readers, making them laugh for a few seconds, forget all the bullshit in the news.
That’s for later. For now, according to the letter, I’ve got one hour to pack. Anything left behind goes in the trash.
