“Everything will be fine,” he said softly, feeling around for my hand.
“I know,” I told him.
And in silence, I prayed that I really did.
10
“And here’s the bathroom. It’s a little small and doesn’t have a window, but for a shower and a dump, you don’t really need much else, right?”
I looked at the guy and blinked in a state of utter shock. He was wearing a pair of tighty-whities and a sleeveless shirt that clearly hadn’t seen the inside of a washing machine in ages. A joint was hanging from his lips, and the scent of it was making me sick to my stomach. He smiled and scratched his temple. I glanced around again at the mildew on the walls and in the gaps between the weird, yellowish tiles. It looked like no one had cleaned in months. And the stench…
I wanted to puke.
And yet, it was the nicest apartment I’d looked at so far, and more importantly, I could afford it. As long as I could learn to hold my breath the entire time I was there, it would be all right.
Behind me, Matías must have sensed that I was getting close to saying yes, because he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back, saying, “Thanks for showing us around, pal. We’re going to think it over and we’ll let you know.” His tone was chipper as he dragged me toward the door.
“Let us know soon, dude,” the guy said. “There’s a lot of people interested.”
“Right, no problem,” Matías said.
We made it to the landing and Matías tried closing the door three times before managing to get it all the way shut. He walked me quickly down the four floors, and once we were outside, he gave me a serious look.
“Have you lost your mind? Are you actually thinking of living in this place? It’s a trash heap, and that guy…”
He shivered with disgust.
“Matías, we’ve been looking at apartments for two days and this is the only thing I’ve found that I can afford. I hardly have any savings, I don’t have a job, and tomorrow I have to leave my home forever. I can’t afford to be picky.”
“You can stay with me until you find something.”
“Your bed’s too small.”
“Take the couch. No, I’ll take the couch.” It was funny how quickly he changed his mind.
“And see Antoine every day? I don’t think so.” I leaned against the wall of the building and rubbed my face. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Matías grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him, walking off.
“For now, we’re going to eat something. Then we’ll cross our fingers and look at the other three apartments on the list.”
When I got back home in the early evening, I could feel my heart cracking inside. The living room and hallway were full of boxes. Andrey had tape and a marker and was sealing and labeling all our possessions. For the first time, I truly knew the nightmare was real. That the only family I had was abandoning me when I needed them most.
I ran to my room and shut the door. On top of the bed were a bunch of empty boxes. Very subtle.
I threw my purse on top of the dresser and took off my shoes. There was no point in drawing this out, so I gathered my things, starting with the books that filled my shelves, then the clothing, then the shoes. With every drawer I opened and shut, a deeper anxiety overtook me. I still didn’t have a place to live, and time was getting away from me, and I didn’t know what to do.
I hadn’t gotten lucky with any of the apartments I looked at. One of the rooms was already rented; the second one wasn’t even a real room, just a bed out on a glassed-in balcony someone was trying to charge three hundred euros a month for; and the third I rejected outright when I saw a falling objects warning in the doorway.
One of the women who lived there told me, “It’s termites. But I’ve been here for ten years, and nothing’s ever happened. It is noisy, though…”
I sat on the bed after taping the last box shut. My knee hurt, so I grabbed a painkiller from the box on the nightstand, chewing it up and trying to keep a clear head.
My phone screen lit up with an Instagram notification. The company had tagged me in one of its posts. I opened it, feeling anxious, and saw a photo of one of my rehearsals taken just a few days before last Christmas. A few days before everything fell apart.
Goodbye, Maya. You’ll always be dancing in our hearts, the message read.
“I’m not fucking dead,” I murmured.
