Page 3 of Surrender

“Be safe. Love you too. Bye!”

Feeling much calmer than five minutes ago, I tap the end button and return my phone to my pocket. I didn’t need a phone call to convince me not to cave and take this place, but I did need a friendly voice to soothe my frustrations.

I round the corner into the kitchen, outfitted with white appliances yellowing with age and carpet from the seventies. I thank the stars above that while I am desperate for a new beginning, I’m not this desperate. And if I wasn’t convinced enough, the fat brown bug scurrying across the countertop absolutely settles it.

Blegh.

I meet the eyes of the landlord when he enters through the door to the attached garage. A plume of hazy smoke follows him, filling the air with the acrid smell of cigarettes.

“I’m going to pass.”

His eyes turn hard, and his mouth snaps shut on whatever remark he had prepared. “Look, I get it. This place might not be what you’re used to wherever you’re from, but you get a lot of square footage for the price.”

“It’s certainly not what I was expecting. Thank you for your time.”

“I’ll drop the rent by fifty bucks.”

“No.”

“A hundred.”

“Please get out of my way.”

He doesn’t budge, forcing me to look around for another exit. The front door is somewhere behind me, but moving deeper into the house to find it seems like the plot to an episode of Law and Order SVU.

“I’ll throw in snow removal and lawn services in the summer, but that’s it.” He waves his hands between us. “You wore me down, but I can’t go any lower than that.”

“You’re mistaken if you think I want to bargain with you. This place isn’t suitable for my children. Frankly, it appears to be a health hazard, and I’ve spent more time than I care to standing around breathing this air. It’s a hard no, sir. Now, please get out of my way.”

He moves to the side with a huff, giving me enough space to squeeze through.

“Fucking city bitch,” he mumbles loud enough for me to hear as I pass.

A small town of five thousand is hardly a city. My spine snaps straight. A retort tickles the tip of my tongue, but that little voice in the back of my head says it’s not smart to tussle with unpredictable, strange men.

Memories surface of Devon’s associates coming to visit with a list of demands, and his warnings to give them whatever they wanted.

I’m no longer scared, and Devon is no longer alive.

I shiver and move swiftly to my car, fighting the urge to glance back the entire way.

The drive to the daycare center only takes a few minutes. Another bummer that the house fell through. The location would have been perfect for busy mornings or walking to pick-up the kids in the summer months.

Rather than rush inside for my babies, I force myself to sit and enjoy the silence. This might be the last shred of time to myself for a while. My iced coffee melts in the center console. I slurp down the remnants and tear into a bag of M&M’s leftover from our drive.

Find housing returns to the top of my mental to-do list. I can stay at the motel for the foreseeable future. I sold our house in Arizona before the move, and the money from the sale is enough to keep us afloat for a while if I budget. Devon also had a sizable life insurance policy that I’ve put aside to save for the children but could be accessed in case of emergencies.

Despite the housing issue, I’m ready to settle into the life I’ve always deserved, and I want to do it now.

Things weren’t great between Devon and me. They hadn’t been in a long time.

From what I’ve pieced together since his death, he had gotten into some shady business dealings. A year ago, they began to spill into our personal life. Men dropped by for money at all hours of the day. They would park at the curb, waiting for Devon to return home while the kids and I were inside. Every confrontation I had with Devon turned into a fight. He poured on heaps of mental abuse until I was confused and convinced I was the crazy one.

Overreacting.

Unstable.

Dramatic.

---