Sometimes I wonder why we, as humans, are so quick to try to placate others when we’ve received bad news. Like, in all honesty, this isn’t okay. It’s not fine. This is my job, my livelihood, and now I’m supposed to what? Find something else…in this economy? Sure, should be easy peasy.
After my boss—ex-boss now, I suppose—has me fill out all the necessary off-boarding paperwork, including the document listing myvery small severancepackage, I’m on my way. In the parking lot, I sit behind the wheel of my beat-up Civic that’s seen better days, staring at the side of the building, unsure how to feel.
I know the panic is coming, but it hasn’t hit me yet. I feel…numb, almost. Like this is all a bad dream that maybe I’ll wake up from soon. Just to be sure, I pinch at the skin above my wrist, the pain that wells up from it telling me this is very muchnota dream, but instead my shitty, unfortunate reality.
“Goddamnit,” I bite out as I put my car in reverse and speed out of the parking lot toward my tiny and too-expensive studio apartment. The apartment I won’t be able to afford for much longer in the city I can barely afford, even with a full-time job.
I moved to Portland a couple of years ago after I graduated from the University of Oregon. My parents warned me about how high the cost of living was in Oregon compared to Wolf Creek, the small town my family has lived in since I was a teenager in Texas, but it was what I wanted. Having grown up in small southern towns my whole life, I wanted to experience the beautiful Pacific Northwest. Experience the coast and the mountains and the different way of living that you just don’t see in places like Texas.
Up until now, I’ve done okay for myself. I’ve made ends meet, even though I don’t really ever have money left over for anythingnon-essential. My bills have been paid and I’ve had food in my belly, so I’d like to think I’m doing alright. Not great; I’m not where I want to be in life, but that’s okay. I’m only twenty-five, and honestly, how many twenty-five-year-olds have their lives all figured out by now?
Probably not many.
But now my life is even less figured out than I thought.
And to think, a mere two hours ago, I felt pretty good about how my day was looking. I had woken up early, walked down to the park by my complex, enjoyed some yoga as the sun rose, and then was able to shower and savor a cup of tea before having to head into work. It was supposed to be a great day.
Now it’s just shit.
Pulling into my assigned parking spot, I turn off my car and climb out. Once inside my apartment, it hits me. Emotion wells up behind my eyes and tightens around my throat. The reality of my situation overwhelms me until I’m fumbling to grab my phone out of my pocket, finding the one number I know I can call when I know I need to be talked down from an anxiety ledge.
It rings a couple of times; she’s probably at work by now, but luckily, the line connects after another ring.
“Hey, Ash. What’s up?” The soft sound of my twin sister, Violet’s, voice is like a warm blanket on a chilly day. It wraps around me.
“I lost my job,” I blurt out, my voice cracking at the end.
“What?” she hisses. “What happened?”
I run through everything my boss told me, and it’s a miracle I don’t burst into tears by the end of it. My throat aches and the tip of my nose burns, so I know it’s coming.
“Oh my gosh, Ash. I can’t believe that.”
“Yeah, me neither. I loved that job.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
Dropping onto my couch, I blow out an exasperated breath. “That’s the million-dollar question,” I mutter. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Vi. I don’t have any money in savings, and the money I’m getting from my last check will only get me so far. Rent is due in a couple of weeks; that’ll basically wipe me out. And the job market is trash. Even if I found something, I doubt it would pay enough to cover all my expenses.”
That truth hits me square in the chest, knocking the wind out of me.
“I’m going to lose my apartment,” I croak, an edge of hysteria creeping into my voice. Pressure builds behind my eyes, and nerves clutch at my chest. “I’m going to be homeless. I’ll have to live in my car.”
“Okay, calm down,” Violet cuts in, probably sensing my rising panic. “You’re not going to be homeless.”
“Yes, I am, Violet.” Raising off the couch, I pace in front of it, one hand tugging at my hair, the other holding the phone to my ear. “My rent is almost two grand a month, so unless I find a job, like, tomorrow, or resort to selling feet pics, I’m fucking screwed.”
Violet scoffs into the line. “Why is your rent so expensive? Mom and Dad didn’t even pay that for the old four-bedroom rambler we used to live in before graduation.”
“Well, Wolf Creek is infinitely cheaper than Portland, Violet.” Then it hits me. “Oh, god. I can’t even move back home with them! And your apartment is the size of a shoebox. What am I going to do?”
Last year when my dad retired, my parents decided to sell their house and travel the country in an RV. Some dream my mom had since me and Violet were little. Last I talked to them, which admittedly isn’t as much as I should, they were up in Maine. And Icannotlive with my sister. Yes, her apartment is small, but I also just…can’t. It’s not an option.
“Okay, first of all, that’s rude,” my sister mutters. “My apartment is adorable, and at least it’s not two thousand dollars a month.”
“Wow, way to pour salt in the wound, you asshole. I have no job, and soon, I’ll have no place to live. Are you hearing me?”
“Ash, will you please take a deep breath and calm down a little? You’re jumping to the worst possible scenario here. I have an idea, okay?”
