“You were going to tell me about your conversation with the landlord,” Liz reminded her.
“Right.”
“Let me tell you, I’ve never had such a bad landlord,” Liz began. She had a long list and was determined to enumerate each item on it. The run in Lorna’s stocking took off every time she moved. Her perspiration reached a code-red level, and she wished she’d taken that offer of water.
Liz’s complaints were all legitimate, of course. There were so many items on the list for repair: leaks, holes, nonworking appliances and lights. But somehow Lorna went from adamantly agreeing that things needed to be done to explaining possible reasons Mr. Contreras hadn’t done them. She pointed out that the house was expensive and costly repairs would result in costly rent. “It’s simple math.”
“Well, sure,” Liz said. “Big repairs are going to cost. But we should see some repairs before we start paying more in rent. Like, the more immediate problems. If we pay more rent before they are fixed, we run the risk they will never be fixed.”
Lorna couldn’t disagree.
“So what did he say when you called him?” Liz asked eagerly.
“Umm...” She surreptitiously wiped a bit of perspiration from her temple. “That he wants to sell the house. But if he can’t, he’s going up on rent because he’s hardly breaking even.”
Liz snorted. “Did he at least seem like he might be willing to work something out?”
“I didn’t ask him, to be honest. I agreed with him that this is a money pit.”
Liz was silent for a moment. “Excuse me? You did what?”
Too blunt!“I agreed that he should probably sell it, because that is the only way he might get back what he put into it. That’s what I would do. And really, it should be a single home.”
“Oh hon,” Liz said, and smiled sadly at Lorna, as if she pitied her. “But it’s not a single-family home. Not anymore.”
“Okay, but hear me out,” Lorna said hesitantly. “It makes senseto me because he’s only got four units. He could go up a thousand dollars a month on each unit and probably still wouldn’t be able to collect what he needs to make major repairs on top of paying taxes and upkeep. The house never should have been split up.”
“Yes, but again, that train has left the station,” Liz said. “And we’ve all made this our home. If he really intends to sell it, we should have enough time to find other living arrangements. A serious amount of time, too, because there is hardly anything affordable in Austin anymore. And what about Bean? He already lost his mother, and now he’ll have to change schools?” Liz shook her head.
Lorna winced. If anything would make her give up her idea, an appeal to Bean’s best interests might be it. But then again, she couldn’t be such a softy about this. She’d been planning this a long time. It was her turn now. She deserved it.She deserved it.
“I don’t want to move,” Liz insisted. “This house is the perfect location. It’s central to everything.” She looked at Lorna. “Doyouwant to move?”
“No! I belong here.”
“Exactly,” Liz said.
Lorna’s palms were perspiring now, and she quickly debated telling Liz the truth. She swallowed down her guilt and fear and the overpowering need to have this house. It was inexplicable.Shewas inexplicable. So there was no sense in even trying to explain it.
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Liz hopped up and went to open it. “Martin!” she said cheerfully.
“Hi, Liz. Oh, hi, Lorna.”
“She brought brownies,” Liz said, hurrying to fetch the tray. She held it up to Martin, who took one and bit into it.
“That’s dope,” he said.
“Bean made them,” Lorna said, and stood. “I have to run. I’m watching Bean today.”
“No worries!” Liz said brightly. “I’ll fill Martin in. Thank you for coming up. Come anytime! I’m always here.”
Lorna nodded and slipped out past Martin as he took another brownie. “He should be a baker, that kid,” he said as the door closed behind her.
Lorna ran downstairs. Maybe one day she would tell them. She didn’t even know the words she would use, but one day, she might say it. Maybe she’d go up to Liz’s apartment for an afternoon just to hang out, like women did, and tell her.
Then again, maybe not.
Once she was safe in her apartment, she looked down at herself. The run in her stocking now disappeared into her shoe. Her skirt was covered in cat hair. She was still perspiring, and she felt like a gargoyle. She felt entirely at odds with herself, like pieces of her were not fitting together.
