Room For Rent

Chapter Two

My mother and I spent the whole night making a sizeable dent in my parents' junk food supplies. It felt good to cry over all that I lost and to lose myself in romantic comedies. By the end of the night, I resolved to put this whole thing behind me and start looking for a new place.

The following day came, and with it, the deep feeling of betrayal that was caused by two of the people I should have trust the most. I turned my phone back on and tentatively skimmed the text messages from both Eric and Emily. Both provided apologies that I had found out the way I did, but they felt measly at best. As I had suspected, I had left broken beer bottles by the door that I had left wide open. It didn't take a genius to piece together what had happened.

Eric's only response to me picking up my things was: K. I'm so sorry.

After that, all attempts at communication ceased from both of them.

I went with my parents to pack up my things. I had been living by myself for years before I even met Eric, so most of the furniture and items in the house were mine or were bought by both of us. I wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible, so we left all but necessities and my personal items.

The broken bottles of beer were still by the door, and evidence of Eric's and Emily's sexcapades littered throughout the room. The sheets were in complete disarray, and panties that clearly belonged to Emily were left lying on the floor. Multiple condom wrappers were left on the bedside table.

My dad turned around and began angrily shoving my books into a box while my mother rested a reassuring hand on my shoulder and directed me towards the bathroom.

"I've got the bedroom. Let's hurry up so that we can go get pancakes." My mother, the queen of comfort food.

In the bathroom, I couldn't help wondering how many times this had happened and how long this had been going on. If I had not come home early, would I ever have found out?

Forcefully pushing all thoughts of Eric away, I focused on getting out of this place as quickly as possible.

****

Two Weeks Later

The last two weeks have been a roller coaster of emotions. I have been so angry with both of them, then resigned, then heartbroken, then determined to get on with my life, and then I wonder if I didn't move too quickly in getting out of the apartment. Once I work through each of those emotions, I start back at the top again.

I spent almost every second of the past two weeks over-analyzing my relationships with Eric and with Emily. I first met Eric at a party thrown by my former college roommate in our senior year. Eric and I hit it off almost instantly. Our personalities were almost perfect opposites, but many of our interests aligned.

Eric was incredibly laid back while I was much more uptight; he was a people person while I was a homebody. When we first started dating each other, we equalized each other's personalities. He was able to get me out of the house and feeling more relaxed. I encouraged him to take certain things more seriously. We went together like a well-oiled machine for a year and a half. Then our personalities began to clash.

The clash was subtle at first but became more drastic once I got the job with Meyer and Meyer. We started fighting more frequently and stopped communicating with each other. It isn't a stretch to say that our relationship was crumbling. That doesn't make it hurt less to know that he cheated on me, especially when he cheated with my best friend, who had seen us at our best and our worse.

Dissecting my relationship with Emily is so much more painful. We met when we were in middle school, and while we were always unlikely friends, we always had each other’s backs. Her home life was tough when we were young, so she spent countless nights staying at my house. She was there when I met Eric and knew how I felt about him. I had gushed to her so many times about him and what I hoped my relationship with him would become.

When things between Eric and I got rough, it was Emily who encouraged me to hang in there and try to work things out. I just don’t understand after all of that how she could do this to me. Did she fall in love with him? Was this just a f**k-buddy thing?

The day after everything happened, Emily texted several apologies and then a simple: call me when you are ready. I have considered calling her more times than I can count. I’m just not sure what ‘ready’ looks like. I don’t know if there is anything that she can say that will make this feel better. It also hurt that she stopped trying so quickly.

I know that she is trying to give me my space, but it also feels that they both have moved on. I don’t know what to do with that. As much as I wish it were otherwise, I am not ready to move on.

My constant obsession over all things Eric and Emily has affected the quality of work that I am producing for Mr. Meyer, and it is beginning to show. I have kept the rigorous hours, working even longer now that it is the only thing that I have going on in my life. Unfortunately, careers are not just built on time; they are also built on effort.

Before I left work today, exactly two weeks after my world shattered, Mr. Meyer cornered me.

“Look, Natalie. I am not sure what happened in your life recently. I know that something did, and while I am sympathetic, you need to leave whatever it is at home. You are great at your job when you apply yourself, but I need to know that you will consistently apply yourself. Otherwise, you become a drain on my company. You are too good for that. So please take the weekend. Figure out whatever you need to and come back on Monday ready to show us the fantastic marketing manager that you are.” Mr. Meyer sat across from me with a stern but compassionate gaze.

His words took me by complete surprise. I have never done so poorly in a job as I have done in my last two weeks here. I was beginning to worry that I would soon be fired. I let his words sink in and determined that I would come back to work on Monday without the shadow of Eric and Emily. All of that started with getting out of my parents’ house and getting back on my own two feet.

“Thank you, Mr. Meyer. I will do as you suggested.”

“See that you do. Have a great weekend,” with that; he left my office.

I left work and headed to a mom-and-pop coffee shop a block away. After ordering a large coffee, I pulled my laptop out and started looking for a place to live.

Many of the apartments were falling apart, were much too big, much too small, or much too expensive. Then I saw it—a wanted ad for a room for rent. The poster owned a bi-level home and was looking to rent out the bottom level. The floor had one bedroom, a large communal area, and a bathroom. The kitchen was on the top level, and the laundry room was on the bottom level; both are listed as things that would be shared. Otherwise, it would basically be my own space. The rent included utilities and was less than most of the places that I was looking at. I found the poster’s contact information and immediately called to see if the room was still available.

“Hello?” A tenor male voice answered.

“Is this Connor Callahan? I am calling about your ad.”

“This is him. Are you interested in the room?” I notice that his voice has just a hint of gravel to it. Almost as if he is getting over a cold or he is creeping up on middle age. The ad didn’t provide much information on him, just on the room.

“I am. Is it still available?” I ask tentatively. I’m beginning to wonder if this is not the total steal that I thought it was. I’m really hoping that this guy is not some pervert or serial killer.

“It is. I request that all serious applicants provide a credit check and meet with me before making any offers. Are you available tomorrow?” This begins to feel like it might be happening too fast. I want to be trusting of people, but I know the world that we live in. I also know that even your best friend can turn around and betray you.

Deciding that it would be best to proceed with caution, I respond, “The credit check won’t be a problem. Do you mind if I bring my dad with me to the meeting?” I feel a bit like a child, but I also know that it is always better to be safe than sorry. I prepare for ridiculed or shot down, so I am surprised when I hear a slight chuckle.

“I completely understand. I like to meet with people beforehand to know if we will be comfortable living together. There won’t be too much cross-over, but you are a stranger that I am inviting into my house. We both need to know if this will work before documents are signed, and money changes hands.” His response reassures me a bit. We iron out the details for our meeting before we end the call.

Despite my concerns that I may be meeting with a potential serial killer, I am excited that I have taken my first step towards putting my life back together.