Page 67 of Breaking Away

Back in the present, I absently highlight the gig a few times before shutting my screen off. Tyler is right. It’s not worth the judgment. Nobody in my life, especially my parents, would approve. It would make everything worse.

Getting up, I stretch around my apartment. An attempt at yoga is made.

Mid-downward dog, my phone rings again.

Forcing myself to look, I see it’s my landlord calling.

Odd. He never reaches out.

I’m homeless.

Technically, I will be in a week. My landlord is selling the unit and I have two weeks to leave. And since a friend of Tyler’s owns this place, I couldn’t push back. We never signed a proper lease.

My lungs stop working all of a sudden.

He wouldn’t…

That would be going too far…

This can’t be Tyler arranging this. What would he gain from kicking me out of this place? I mean with two weeks notice, I might need to move in with my parents where?—

They lecture me about giving Tyler another chance?

I’m shaking so hard I’m the last spin of a dryer cycle. Why does my gut think this eviction is happening because of Tyler?

In my head, I write him a text.

HEY. IT’S ME. I’VE NOT ANSWERED YOUR CALLS BECAUSE I’VE BEEN BUSY.GETTING BUKKAKED BY SO MANY MEN IT LOOKS LIKE I’VE GOT A HALLOWEEN MASK ON GOING AS SOME SORT OF SCARY SLUG CREATURE.IF YOU DID WHAT I THINK YOU DID, YOU ARE BEING PETTY. MEAN. WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE THIS? I FEEL LIKE I DON’T KNOW YOU.

I don’t send anything, but get to work trying to find another place to live.

After a few days of searching, I’m slumped over on my couch. There are no rentals in my price range. Through Tyler’s connection, my rent here was so subsidized, but checking my current bank account?—

I drop my face into my hands.

I can’t afford to pay more.

Kavi Basra… has accomplished nothing for herself.

I didn’t go to college, even though I’ve thought about it often. See, after Tyler got drafted to the league, it felt like my responsibility to help him transition into this big career, and then it was about supporting his rise to becoming captain. And when my dad started working for the Blades, he was giving me tasks to do and paying me for them. I kept helping.

Between all that, whenever I had spare time, I watched photography tutorials, read up on composition, and practiced editing. Just to be an informed hobbyist, I kept telling everyone.Obviously taking photos of sweet sixteen parties wouldn’t pay all my bills. Not when half the time these gigs offerexposureinstead of real money.

Now here I am.

My account balance is depressing.

Not knowing what else to do, I call my landlord again. I tell him it’s not fair to kick me out so suddenly. He tells me there’s no other option. We didn’t sign any paperwork. I have to move out.

My eyes well up.

Going back to that photography website, I book as many jobs as I can get. And I agree to do the sweet sixteen one for less than minimum wage plus exposure.

What else can I do? This time, I search the rental market for roommates. There are options, but having no regular income makes my anxiety roil.

I need a job with a dependable paycheck. Unfortunately, my resume is pathetic. Empty.

All I want to do is sleep, so I go to bed. It’s past midnight, anyway.

---