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My heart ached at the thought of everything I’d lost, even if giving it up was the smartest thing I’d ever done. Leaving home when I did, I had never been quite sure what my future was supposed to look like, but I’d never expected this.
“This is yours.”
I glanced over to see Joy holding a muddled-brown key that was probably supposed to be gold. It was hanging off a loop meant for a keychain, and I slid my finger through it, pressing the biting metal against my palm. Taking a breath, I opened the cab door and stepped onto the street, bracing myself against the cold wind that rushed past us like it had somewhere to be.
My eyes stung, and I wondered if this was some sort of warning or sign of what was to come, but I didn’t want to think that way. I couldn’t. If I did, I’d lose it, and there wasn’t much further down I could tumble.
Squaring my shoulders, I moved to the trunk to pull out my cello—the most priceless and yet expensive thing I now owned. I kept it close to my body with the long strap and grabbed my suitcase while Joy hovered behind me, and somehow, I made it up those four steps.
Like the person before us, the lock stuck, and it took me three tries before it turned. The door opened with an ominous creak like the hinges were about to rot off, and I was immediately met with the scent of mold and age. I think the place once had a lobby with an attendant, but now it was just an open square of space with mailboxes lining the far walls and two sets of doors. Neither shut properly, so I could see one went up—and up, and up, and up… and the other went down.
My heart sank when Joy reached for the one on the left.
I would be underneath the city walkway.
So yeah, I guess I did have a bit further to go in my fall from grace.
“It’s just one flight,” she explained, clearly reading my expression. “Yours is the only apartment down here. It used to be for the super, but Uncle Raymond doesn’t use one anymore.”
Of course he didn’t.
“I’m guessing there’s no building maintenance here either.”
“I wouldn’t know,” she said as the door swung closed behind me. Of course she didn’t. She didn’t have to rent from Uncle Raymond. “I’m sure if there’s something wrong, he’ll fix it for you.”
Thefor youwas emphasized to remind me that he wasn’t exactly a kind landlord, and it was foolish to assume otherwise.
I tried not to think about my financial situation as we made our way down to the dark corridor lit by one of those endless LEDs that gave me a headache if I stared at it for too long. My apartment door—0A—was at the far end next to a creepy looking, rust-covered metal door set into the stone wall.
I didn’t bother asking what was behind it. I didn’t need to know, and I didn’t want to.
Joy dug into her pocket for the second key, and instead of handing it over, she turned it in the deadbolt slot, then pushed the door open and stepped in.
The place was dim and cold, the only light from a window at the very top near the ceiling, which showed the street at ground level. There was a gauzy curtain that covered it, but I could still make out the occasional leg of a passer-by.
I felt strange and unwanted there in that little hole.
It was about as tiny as a London flat, but something about it seemed more constricting. The living room bled into the dining room, the kitchen a small nook, the bedroom only slightly longer than the width of my arms. I saw another door in the back, which I assumed was the bathroom, and I didn’t bother hoping for a tub. Hell, I’d be happy with a toilet and a sink.
I jolted back to the present when Joy dropped the keys on the table and let out a sigh, shrugging before shoving her hands into the pockets of her trousers. She and I shared a fashion sense—loose, comfortable clothes that looked more expensive than we could actually afford, only hers fit her life a bit better than mine did.
Everything I could call my own was carefully packed away in the hard-top suitcase now sitting by the door next to my cello.
My throat got hot and tight again.
“I put a couple meals in the freezer for you,” she said, not looking me in the eye. “You can pop them in the toaster oven. I don’t know if you know how to work one of those—”
“I was in London, not on the moon,” I said softly.
She gave me a flat look, then shrugged again and took a step back. “If you don’t need anything else, I’ll head out. I have to get the kids from Georgie’s mom and get dinner going. I’ll come by and take you shopping tomorrow, though.”
I shook my head quickly. She’d done enough, and I wasn’t sure if she understood the position I was in. When I said I was broke, she probably thought I was broke the way we were as kids. We ate cheaply, store brands and sale items.
I was not that kind of broke.
I was worse, and I didn’t want her to spend any more on me. I had an interview at a music school in the morning, and with any luck, I’d have a handful of students by the end of the week. I could get by on thirty-five-cent ramen until then.
I just didn’t want her to know that.
