Monday began before sunrise.
Marcus had ironed Daniel’s blue shirt using a towel on the kitchen table because the temporary apartment did not have an ironing board.
The result was imperfect.
So was everything else.
But at six-forty, when he emerged wearing the shirt, dark work pants Thomas had advanced him money to purchase, and his cleaned boots, he looked different.
Not transformed.
That word would have been too easy.
He still limped.
The brace still showed beneath his trouser leg.
His beard remained uneven.
But his shoulders were no longer folded inward.
Liam noticed too.
“You look taller.”
Marcus looked down.
“I am the same height.”
“No. You look taller.”
I understood.
Marcus did too.
He looked away.
Breakfast was eggs.
Real portions this time.
Marcus ate without trying to save half.
I noticed that more than anything.
At seven-fifteen, he stood by the door.
“First day.”
“Trial period,” he corrected.
Liam rolled his eyes.
“You really need to stop saying that.”
Marcus looked at me.
“He’s aggressive before school.”
“He gets it from his mother.”
“Correct,” Liam said.
I handed Marcus a travel mug.
“Coffee.”
He accepted it.
Then hesitated.
“I’ll bring the car back tonight.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I’m not keeping your car.”
“I mean Thomas said the property office is near the bus line.”
“I’m not taking your car after today.”
“Fine.”
“Seriously.”
“I said fine.”
“You say fine like you’re planning to ignore me.”
“Go to work, Marcus.”
He smiled.
Then he left.
Liam watched through the window until my car disappeared.
“He’s nervous.”
“Yes.”
“Are you?”
“For him?”
Liam nodded.
“A little.”
“He’ll do good.”
“I think so.”
The knock came twenty minutes later.
I assumed Liam had forgotten something outside.
Instead, Mr. Perkins stood in the hallway.
He carried an envelope.
Of course he did.
“Morning.”
“That depends.”
His mouth tightened.
“I need to give you this.”
I accepted it.
NOTICE TO CURE RENT DELINQUENCY.
My eyes moved down the page.
Seven days.
Pay the outstanding balance or management could begin termination proceedings.
My throat tightened.
“You’re giving me this now?”
“It’s standard procedure.”
“My apartment is currently torn open because management failed to repair a leak.”
“Your rent delinquency predates the remediation.”
“You knew there were maintenance problems.”
“Those issues are being addressed.”
“After Marcus forced you to address them.”
Perkins sighed.
“Ms. Bennett, I’m not here to argue.”
“That would be a refreshing change.”
He glanced toward Liam.
I lowered my voice.
“How much exactly?”
He showed me.
The number was worse than I expected because late fees had been added.
“Remove the fees.”
“I can’t.”
“Then ask someone who can.”
“I don’t control accounting.”
“You represent management when you want rent.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’ll ask.”
“Put that in writing too.”
Something about Marcus’s insistence on documentation had apparently infected me.
Perkins nodded.
Then he left.
I folded the notice before Liam could read it.
Too late.
“What does cure mean?”
“Fix.”
“What are we fixing?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“That’s what you said last time.”
I crouched.
“Liam.”
He looked at me.
“We are not sleeping outside.”
The fact that I had to say those words frightened me.
He nodded.
“Okay.”
I drove him to school in a borrowed car Denise had lent me.
Then I went to work.
My shift became twelve hours.
Of course it did.
Two aides called out.
Mrs. Cohen refused medication.
Mr. Alvarez’s daughter complained that nobody had returned her call.
By lunch, my feet hurt and my phone had three missed calls.
One from Daniel.
Two from an unknown number.
I called Daniel first.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“Hey.”
I hated the casualness.
“You’re six weeks behind.”
A pause.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Chloe, don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything. I’m asking when you’re paying child support.”
“I’ve had expenses.”
“So have I.”
“I’m between contracts.”
“You told Liam work was going great.”
“That was before.”
I closed my eyes.
“How much can you send?”
“I don’t know.”
“Daniel.”
“I said I don’t know.”
“You have a court order.”
“And threatening me helps how?”
“I didn’t threaten you.”
“You always make everything sound like a legal case.”
“I am twenty-four days behind on rent.”
Silence.
That finally reached him.
“What?”
“Our apartment had mold. We’re temporarily relocated. Management gave me a seven-day notice.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I laughed quietly.
“Because I’m telling you now.”
“No. About the apartment.”
“You call your son. You don’t call me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither is disappearing for two weeks and then arriving with promises.”
He exhaled.
“Is Liam okay?”
“Yes.”
“Can you cover the rent?”
“Not all of it.”
Another silence.
“I can send three hundred Friday.”
“How much do you owe?”
“You know how much.”
“I mean total.”
I told him.
He swore softly.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“No. Tell me what you will do.”
“Three hundred Friday.”
“Thank you.”
It wasn’t enough.
But it was something.
After hanging up, I called the unknown number.
A woman answered.
“Ms. Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“This is City Housing Compliance.”
My stomach tightened.
“We’re following up on the inspection at your apartment.”
“What happened?”
“The inspector documented significant moisture intrusion and evidence that the leak likely existed before your tenancy’s recent complaint.”
I sat straighter.
“What does that mean?”
“We’re reviewing prior maintenance records.”
Marcus’s situation flashed through my mind.
Hidden reports.
Missing complaints.
Buildings seemed to produce paperwork only when somebody forced them to.
“Can I get copies?”
“Yes.”
“Please send everything.”
The woman paused.
“Your inspector also noted unresolved ventilation issues in the bathroom.”
“I reported that fan twice.”
“Do you have records?”
“Emails.”
“Keep them.”
Something about her tone mattered.
“Why?”
“In case there is disagreement about responsibility for the moisture.”
I understood.
Perkins had already tried blaming condensation on me.
I wrote everything down.
When my shift finally ended, I found Marcus waiting outside the nursing home.
My car was parked behind him.
He was smiling.
Not broadly.
But genuinely.
“How was it?”
He opened the passenger door for me.
“Get in.”
“That good?”
“Get in.”
I did.
He drove.
I watched him.
“Well?”
“The boiler at Maple Court has been making a noise for six months.”
“And?”
“Everyone thought it was the circulation pump.”
“But?”
“Air separator.”
I stared.
“You understand that sentence means nothing to me.”
“It means I was right.”
“You fixed it?”
“Contractor will replace the part tomorrow.”
“You diagnosed it?”
“Yes.”
His smile widened.
“Thomas had three different contractors look at it.”
“And you found it?”
“Twenty minutes.”
There he was.
The man from before the staircase.
Maybe not exactly.
Maybe better because he now understood what losing that identity had cost.
“I’m proud of you.”
The smile disappeared.
Marcus looked through the windshield.
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough to be proud of what happened today.”
His hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“Thank you.”
We drove another block.
Then I remembered the notice.
The happiness drained from me.
Marcus noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Chloe.”
“Perkins came by.”
His jaw tightened.
“What did he want?”
“Rent.”
“How long?”
I looked at him.
“How do you know there’s a deadline?”
“Because landlords don’t personally deliver friendly reminders.”
“Seven days.”
Marcus was silent.
“How much?”
“No.”
“Chloe.”
“I told Liam you don’t owe us.”
“I don’t.”
“Good.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t help.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Why?”
“Because your first paycheck belongs to you.”
“I don’t get paid until next Friday anyway.”
“Then the argument is irrelevant.”
He thought.
“Thomas could advance me.”
“No.”
“Chloe.”
“No.”
“You gave a stranger your couch.”
“And?”
“Let me return something.”
“You already did.”
“What?”
I looked toward him.
“You found the wall.”
He shook his head.
“That doesn’t balance anything.”
“This isn’t accounting.”
He laughed once.
“That is exactly what someone drowning in bills would say.”
At the temporary apartment, Liam greeted Marcus with a handmade sign.
FIRST DAY SURVIVED.
Marcus stopped in the doorway.
The sign was written in green marker and decorated with badly drawn tools.
He stared.
Liam became uncertain.
“It’s stupid.”
Marcus shook his head.
“No.”
He took the sign carefully.
“It’s perfect.”
Dinner that night felt almost celebratory.
Until my phone rang.
Mr. Perkins.
I answered.
“I spoke to accounting.”
“And?”
“They agreed to remove the late fees.”
Relief.
Small but real.
“Thank you.”
“But the principal balance remains due.”
“I understand.”
“There’s something else.”
I looked toward Marcus.
He noticed my face.
“What?”
Perkins hesitated.
“Management received the city’s preliminary report.”
“And?”
“They’re disputing portions of it.”
“Which portions?”
“The suggestion that the moisture problem predates your complaint.”
My grip tightened.
“Why?”
“They believe tenant behavior contributed.”
Marcus stood.
I raised a hand.
“Do they have evidence?”
“That will be discussed.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
I looked at the clock.
“Discussed with whom?”
“Management counsel.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why does your management company need a lawyer to discuss mold?”
Perkins did not answer directly.
“Ms. Bennett, I recommend you bring copies of any maintenance requests you submitted.”
The line went quiet after he hung up.
Marcus stared at me.
“What happened?”
I placed the phone down.
“They’re bringing a lawyer.”
His expression hardened.
“For the mold?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have your emails?”
“Yes.”
“Photos?”
“Some.”
“Lease?”
“At home.”
“Get everything.”
I looked at him.
“You sound like Thomas.”
“No.”
Marcus picked up the folder containing documents about his own accident.
“I sound like someone who learned what happens when records disappear.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: The Meeting About My Overdue Rent Became Something Else When Marcus Recognized the Company Name Printed Across the Lawyer’s Folder
I Had Barely Enough Food for My Son, Yet I Couldn’t Walk Past the Man Freezing Outside the Grocery Store
Part 7 of 28
