"That's fine. Once he's here, you can add him to the lease." She reaches into her desk drawer. "Here are your keys. Two sets. Move-in is available immediately."
I take the keys from her hand. Two small pieces of metal that somehow represent everything Jay and I have been working toward for months. Years.
"Thank you," I say.
"You're very welcome. Welcome to Maple Creek Apartments."
I walk across the parking lot to Building C. It's a quiet complex, well-maintained, with mature oak trees shading the walkways. The kind of place where families live. The kind of place where you can build a safe life.
Unit 207. I slide the key into the lock and push the door open.
The apartment is completely empty. Just bare white walls and beige carpet and afternoon light streaming through the windows. It smells like fresh paint.
I step inside and close the door behind me. The sound echoes slightly in the empty space.
The living room is small but has big windows that let in tons of natural light. There's a coat closet. An archway leads to the kitchen. I walk through slowly, running my hand along the walls, trying to imagine what it will look like with furniture.
The kitchen is galley-style, narrow but functional. White cabinets. Laminate countertops. An older stove and refrigerator that work. I open and close the cabinets, picturing Jay's coffee mug next to mine in the morning. Making breakfast together on weekends.
The first bedroom is big enough for a queen bed and a dresser. I stand in the doorway and imagine waking up here with Jay beside me every morning. Not in a motel room with water-stained ceilings. Not in Rosalyn's house. Our own place in our own bed.
The second bedroom is smaller. But it has a window that looks out on the trees, and at first, I can't decide what we should do with it. Then I think about the kids and suddenly I can see it as an extra bedroom with a couple of small twin beds where the kids can sleep when they visit.
I can't believe this is ours. The beginning of an actual life together. Not visits on weekends. Not phone calls late every night. Actually, living together. Building something real.
I pull out my phone and start taking pictures. The living room from multiple angles. The kitchen. The bedroom. The second bedroom. The bathroom. Even the little balcony.
I send them all to Jay with a single message:Signed the lease. It's ours.
My phone rings thirty seconds later.
"Are you there right now?" Jay asks, excited. "Are you standing in it right now?"
"I'm standing in the living room. It's completely empty and it's perfect."
"Show me the kitchen again. I couldn't tell from the picture how big the counter space is."
I switch to video and walk him through slowly, holding the phone up so he can see everything.
"That's bigger than I thought," Jay says. "We could fit a little table in there, couldn't we?"
"Yeah, I think so. Or we could eat in the living room if we want."
"No, I want a real table," Jay says. "A place where we sit down and eat dinner together like normal people. Like a real couple. Besides, Rosalyn would be horrified if she found out we were eating on the couch every night."
"You're right. We need a table."
I walk back into the bedroom and look out the window. "I can't believe this is actually happening. It's almost too good to be true."
"I keep waiting for something to go wrong," he says.
"Maybe there isn't another shoe to drop this time. Maybe we just get to be happy."
"Two more weeks," Jay says. "Then I'll be there and we'll be living together."
"I can barely think about anything else. What about the meetings? Did you find ones up here?"
"There's one every night at a church about ten minutes from the apartment. Different time than I'm used to, eight o'clock instead of seven, but that actually works better. Gives us time to eat dinner first. I'm trying not to screw this up. I've never had something I was this scared to lose."
