It took some time to find the street in Everett where the kid’s apartment was. I had driven down some sketchy streets in Lawrence, but this was a whole other level of industrious sketch – the place looked like everyone was running an auto repair shop out of their house. There were cars up on blocks in the tiny front yards, and up on blocks out in the narrow streets. Good thing my car is tiny, nothing bigger would have been able to pass through all of that. I pulled up in front of a yellowish house with the aluminum siding falling off. There was a bathtub half buried in the front yard, wherein there probably once stood the Madonna or Jesus, but now there housed a golfing monkey statuette. Christmas lights and decorations were hung up everywhere on the porch and low roof, and clearly had been there for decades.

Macaroon was skittish and emitting low growls as I picked her up – she didn’t want to leave the car. With the dog in my arms for both of our protection, I cautiously walked up the front steps and rang the first door bell. After a minute or so shuffling could be heard on the other side of the door and an annoyed raspy voice calling out “Be right there!” The door opened and in the dim light of the house I could make out a woman, not much older than me, also dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants and slippers – except her blond hair was clearly a wig (mine is still 100% real – but more about my magnificent hair later….). “Hiya – that’s a real cute dog,” the woman said cheerfully. “Reminds me of mine – had to put her down last month.” I expressed my condolences, but she just shrugged and said “What can you do?”

I explained that I was looking for the young men renting an apartment in the building. “Oh, you must be one of their Moms!” she exclaimed, and pointed to the second floor doorbell. “Which one is yours – that curly haired one with the nice smile or that dark haired boy with the manners?” “Oh, I’m just a….friend of theirs,” I said blushing. A look of disbelief, followed by shock, followed by disgust moved slowly across her wide doughy face. It was like I told her I was a hooker there to make a house call. “Ohhhhhh,” she said, giving me a knowing side-eye, apparently everything now crystal clear. “Well, when you see them – tell them the rent’s passed due by three days,” she said, giving me the once over again for good measure before shutting the door.

It took a a couple of times of leaning on doorbell number two before I heard someone bounding down the stairs. The door opened and a tall curly haired young man with a soft, smooth face and large sleepy, stoned eyes blinked in the sun. He was about 25 and lanky, and had to peer down to see me on the doorstep. “Hi – I’m here about the room you guys have to rent,” I said, at the same time trying to quiet Macaroon who had begun to barking ceaselessly. “Oh, yeah….” he said and turned around and motioned for me to come in.

Inside the house it was dark, blinds closed and no lights on. I held Macaroon to my chest and could feel the frantic beating of her little heart – scared, too. The entrance hall to the house opened onto the even darker living room where a formless shape lay covered up on the couch. The kid saw me squinting at the form and just said “…..Rolando….” He then motioned for me to follow him up the staircase at the middle of the house. A dirty window at the top of the stairs let some light into the scene, which did not help my comfort level with the situation. Trash bags were piled on top of each other, with clothing and bedding and God knows what else spilling out of them. “Uh…..storage area…..” the kid said motioning towards the bags. He pointed to a room at the right of the staircase. “This is it….the room….and that’s the bathroom,” he gestured towards a closed door across the hall. “Skyler is probably in there getting ready for work.” “Skyler,” I said, “He is the one who is renting out the room.” “Yeah,” the kid said directing me towards the vacant room.

I gingerly pushed open the door. Inside it was surprisingly bright and a painted a nice yellow color. The room was empty except for a couple of boxes of books and some giant dust bunnies. The kid stood looking at his socked feet, face tight, suffering greatly with awkwardness. Here he was stuck talking with some old lady he didn’t even know who was going to move in. Suddenly the door pushed open and another young man entered with wet hair and a towel around his neck. “Hey I’m Skyler,” he said and shook my hand with Macaroon barking madly again. “I’m Linda – Linda LaRosa,” Barbie’s friend. “Yeah Barbie – you know I’m friends with her son Taylor – said you were coming. Bummer your husband kicked you out like that.” My husband kicked ME out?!? What?!? But before I set him straight, I paused just in time, realizing what it might sound like to them – a woman leaving her family. “I like the room – I’ll take it.” The other boy immediately took the opportunity to slink off. “I’ll go get my things out of the car.” Skyler paused for a moment and turning beet red said looking at the floor “Ah…you know this is temporary right? Like a few months?” I said yes, I knew. Then he clasped his hands nervously, glad to have the conversation over. “Alrighty then – I’m off to work. Let’s talk about the details tomorrow.”

Once alone, I laughed out loud in the empty room at the ridiculousness of the situation. Macaroon was wriggling in my arms and I put her down. She chased a dust bunny that was bigger than her for a moment, then sat quietly waiting for the next thing to happen.

I moved my few belongings into the room and happily discovered the kids actually had a broom and dustpan in the kitchen, so swept the floor. My phone was blowing up with text and calls from my husband, kids, their significant others, coworkers, Barbie…..what to do about all of that I had no idea. But then realized that on top of having no money and the credit cards almost maxed out, I had nothing to sleep on. There was a phone call I had to make – the one I least wanted, but needed to most. I called my mother.

“You finally walked out of that hell hole?!” she crowed when I told her what happened. “Only you are about 35 years too late!” My mother had never been a fan of my husband, and took any opportunity she could to bring it up – and this was a doozy. “Yes Ma, but I don’t know for how long. I just need a little breathing room.” “Breathing room? You need an iron lung to recover from that!” she shrieked. Knowing the shit storm that was about to rain down I told my her I needed money. There followed a lengthy pause….one thing my mother did not like to do was part with money. “Whaddya mean you need money?” I told her that I had rented a room in an apartment, leaving out the specifics. “Jesus Christ after all these years you don’t have anything to call your own? How have you been so stupid?” there followed several heavy sighs on the other end of the line. “Ma I need money to get an air mattress or else I am sleeping on the floor. Also I gottta pay rent for the room – $1,000 a month.” Grudgingly she said okay, as I knew she would. Somehow, despite everything, she was always there when shit hit the fan. “Okay we’ll send it through the bank – your sister will help me do it.” I knew she was throwing this in as a dig – my accomplished, successful sister would, of course, help with the bank transaction to bail my ass out.

Macaroon and I drove down the street to a strip mall with a Target and a CVS. With the last amount I could squeeze out of my credit cards I bought an air mattress, a cheap set of sheets, a blanket and a pillow. I bought a couple of Light and Lively frozen dinners, a box of orange juice, some bananas and yogurt and a bag of treats for Macaroon.

Back in my room I ate my microwaved dinner, and Macaroon ate her treats while we sat on the air mattress. Before the room grew too dark I rummaged around in one of the boxes of books, and pulled out Heated Rivalry. Great- a book about hockey to put me to sleep.