Page 69 of The Humiliated Wife
Fiona
The hallway smelledlike cigarettes and industrial cleaner, with an undertone of something Fiona couldn't identify and didn't want to.
She stood outside apartment 3B. This was it—the studio she'd found online, the one that was exactly forty percent of her take-home pay instead of the recommended thirty, but still the most affordable option within reasonable commuting distance of her school.
The landlord, a man in his fifties with grease-stained fingers and eyes that lingered too long, jangled his keys impatiently. "You coming or what? I got three more showings after this."
"Sorry," Fiona said. "Ready."
He unlocked the door and gestured her inside with a flourish that seemed wildly optimistic given what she was looking at.
The apartment was... small. Aggressively small. The "kitchen" was a hot plate, a mini-fridge, and eighteen inches of counter space. The "living area" could maybe fit a twin bed and a chair, ifyou were creative about it. The single window faced a brick wall so close she could probably touch it if she opened the glass.
"Cozy, right?" the landlord said, like he was showing her a penthouse. "Perfect for a young lady starting out."
Fiona almost laughed. She didn’t feel young and she didn’t feel like she was starting out. She felt like she was starting over, which wasn't the same thing at all.
"The bathroom's through there," he continued, pointing to a door that looked like it had been painted over so many times the edges were rounded. "Shared with 3A, but they're quiet. Hardly ever see 'em."
Shared bathroom. Fiona's heart sank a little further.
"What's your situation?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe in a way that blocked her exit. "Divorce?"
The question hit like a slap. "Excuse me?"
"Just trying to get a sense of things, you know? Young woman, looking at a place like this..." He shrugged. "Usually means relationship trouble."
Fiona felt heat creep up her neck. "That's really not?—"
"No judgment," he said, holding up his hands. "Happens to the best of us. What's he do for work? The ex?"
"I don't think that's relevant to?—"
"See, here's the thing." He stepped closer, and Fiona caught a whiff of stale coffee and something medicinal. "I gotta know you can make rent. So if there's alimony coming in, or child support, that's something we factor in."
"There's no alimony," Fiona said quietly. "No children. Just my salary."
His eyebrows shot up. "Just teaching? Honey, you sure you can afford this place?"
The condescension in his voice made her jaw clench. Honey. Like she was a child playing house.
"I've done the math," she said evenly.
"Have you though?" He shook his head. "First month, last month, security deposit. Then you got utilities, internet, groceries..." He was ticking items off on his fingers now. "Cell phone, car insurance, gas, clothes..."
Each item on his list felt like a small stone dropping into her stomach. She'd calculated most of this, but hearing it laid out like this, by a stranger who clearly thought she was in over her head, made it feel overwhelming.
"Teachers don't make much, do they?" he continued. "My wife's cousin teaches elementary. Always complaining about money."
Fiona wanted to disappear into the grubby carpet. When she'd lived with Dean, money had been abstract. She'd contributed her paycheck to their joint account, but the big expenses had never felt like her responsibility. Dean had handled the "real" bills. She'd bought groceries and school supplies and thought that was enough.
Now, standing in this depressing box that she might not even be able to afford, she realized how insulated she'd been. How naive.
"Look," the landlord said, his tone shifting to something that might have been meant as kindness, "maybe you should thinkabout getting a roommate? Or finding something further out? I got a place about forty minutes from here, much cheaper?—"
"I want to be close to my school," Fiona interrupted.
"Right, right. Well..." He scratched his belly through his stained polo shirt. "Tell you what. You seem like a nice girl. But I'm gonna need two months' rent up front instead of one, given the... situation. Just to be safe, you understand."
