We sat in silence for a few moments. She watched the empty space on the couch, her intense stare almost willing the backpack to return. A plan began to form in my head. A reckless plan. A stupid plan. But then, I’d played it safe my whole life and that hadn’t stopped the bad from happening. This vivacious stranger appeared to me as an answer to my problems.
“You have a car?” I asked. She turned back to me, her dark eyebrow raised.
“Shitty car,” she answered, tone suspicious.
I didn’t have a car. I came all the way on a bus. I had about thirty dollars left to my name (and I really wasn’t looking forward to hitch-hiking back home with my tail between my legs when that ran out), a fifteen hundred dollar credit limit, and no where to go. I had no friends. I was one sip of water and one more dose of bad luck away from being in her exact situation.
“I don’t have a car,” I said.
She lifted her eyebrow higher. “What, you want to take my car too?”
I shook my head. “I came all the way from Georgia. I only have about thirty bucks to my name.”
She folded her arms, still not getting where I was going. “So you want a lift to the shelter?”
“Let’s team up.”
A smile formed on her face that lit me up from the inside out. She sat down next to me, closer than strangers should sit, and reached her hand out. I noticed the bright red nail polish. “I’m Vera.”
I gave her my hand. “Grace.”
“Oh look at that one!” Vera pointed animatedly at the computer screen, her bright red nails making small dents in the monitor.
“It’s three thousand dollars. A month.”
“But it’s nice right?”
I squinted at Vera. “I’m starting to understand how you lost your backpack.”
“Okay…” Vera clicked another listing. “What about this?”
After agreeing that neither one of us were serial killers (a debate that had taken about two minutes) we hopped in Vera’s car and drove to the public library. Vera had a smart phone and was able to locate the place easily.
I didn’t have a cell phone, much less a smart one. After leaving home the only thing I had to my name was a backpack with a few change of clothes, a toothbrush, some shampoo, and some books.
I let Vera do the navigating with the computer. I didn’t grow up with them. Now, that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use them, just that I’m nervous with ‘em. I feel like a lot of people know all these shortcuts and cheats on computers, and I’m just lucky if I can get to Google without typing “Google” in to Google. Nowadays, people are really judgmental about computers. If you don’t use them well you’re an idiot. So if I’m using a computer, I’m using it privately. Maybe that makes me a coward. It wouldn’t be the worse thing I’ve been called.
Vera nudged me, prompting me to read the listing she’d brought up. Once again I’d been caught in my own thoughts. I read the listing thoroughly, but that didn’t take long. There was no picture and very little information.
“It doesn’t list the price and it already has a tenant,” I stated.
“So?” Vera shot back. “It means we can bargain and it means cheaper rent. What’s the number? Never mind I see it.” Before I could respond Vera was punching numbers into her phone. “I hate this thing it’s such a knockoff piece of—Hello? Yes, I’m callin’ bout the listing. Is it still available? Great! Me and my friend want to rent it. Four hundred for each of us? Oh, four hundred separately. Hun, that’s ridiculous.”
Mesmerized, I watched Vera work. She bargained with whoever was on the line like it was second nature. There was no anxiety in her voice and she didn’t back down once. While examining her cuticles, she cut the price in half.
“Two hundred, great. We’ll see you in a bit, Chad.” Vera hung up the phone, her cool, negotiating demeanor now replaced with bright glee. “Two hundred a month? Okay! Don’t mind if we do! Let’s go see our new home.”
Vera linked her arm in my mind and pulled me out of the chair. She led my stupefied body through the glass library doors. Vera was so full of life, so sure of herself, and she was as much foreign to this land as I was.
“What if it’s a dump?” I said, still being led like a puppy dog.
“Then we’ll look elsewhere. Still, I thought we should lock that shit down. Know what I mean?”
“Right,” I nodded, getting in to her car. “Shit and stuff.”
Vera keyed the engine and glanced at me. “You’re a weird girl, Grace.”
I shrugged. “The weirdest.”