Page 15 of The Rent Just Went Up

“It is,” Caroline agrees. “But he says he has great intuition when it comes to people, and he just wants to make sure—I guess—that I haven’t missed anything.”

Caroline is already pulling her phone out and sending a text, presumably to the landlord of the building. Just another scum of the earth asshole, I imagine—that is if he’s anything like Malcom. At least he keeps his building in tip-top shape.

Caroline’s phone vibrates, and she smiles.

“There we go. He says he’ll be right down. Five minutes tops. You know, if I were you, I’d just start bringing your things in now.”

“Really?” I ask. “But you said–”

“He’ll love you,” she says, squeezing me on the arm. “I just know he will. And if he doesn’t? Then I’ll help you bring your things back out to your car. How’s that sound?”

Honestly? It feels like I could jump up and down and squeal with glee. A fantastic unit all to myself, with its own laundry, showing up on the day just before I’m about to be shit-outta-luck and have to go retreating home to my parents? “It sounds amazing.” I smile, staying on my feet.

Caroline and I go out to my car and start grabbing things. I have basically everything packed already, knowing that if this didn’t turn out to be the place, I was going to have to head home to my parents’.

I drag my suitcase into the bedroom, which comes with its own bedframe (and takes an enormous amount of stress off of me), drop it by the closet, and unzip it. Caroline comes in behind me and sets a small box down.

“Ithinkthis has hangers in it?”

“Yes, it does.” I smile. “Thank you so much. This is a huge help.”

“Not a problem,” she replies. “My mom says I’m a natural helper. I just like helping people—just like her.”

I mirror her smile, but it’s hard as a picture of their idyllic family pops into my mind, as if taunting the one forever staining mine whenever I think about how I grew up and how things are whenever I am forced to go back home for a visit.You all just get along so wonderfully, don’t you? They raised you so well, didn’t they?

I’m jealous of her, but I learned long ago not to let my jealousy turn into resentment. Caroline has been nothing but nice to me. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have this apartment. And although she’s dressed in a swanky dress, she’s lugging my boxes inside for me. Her mom clearly raised her well.

All of a sudden, from behind her, I hear the sound of the front door opening. No knock beforehand, no doorbell. The door simply opening followed by the sound of clearly masculine footsteps entering the apartment.

Caroline’s eyebrows raise, and she whispers, “That’s him. Come with me.”

She turns and steps out of the bedroom. I take a deep breath before I follow after her.

I’m nervous. I shouldn’t be. She just assured me he’s going to like me and everything’s going to go just fine, but still. What if it doesn’t?

One more deep breath, and I make my way out of the bedroom and into the living room and am instantly frozen as a javelin of pure panic pierces me straight through the chest.

There, standing beside Caroline, dressed in business casual, cell phone in hand, looking handsome as ever, is Malcom.

Some kind of recognition registers on his face, but I can’t tell quite what.

Caroline turns and raises a hand towards me. “Malcom this is–”

But before she can finish, Malcom smiles and nods.

“Yes, we’ve met,” he says. “Hello, Erika.”

9

Malcom

I never understoodthe effect my parents’ divorce had on me until I was older—until I fell in love for the first time. I was eighteen, and her name was Tina. We did all the things a teenage couple does when they’re in love: We went to the movies, we drove around in cars and parked, we went to homecoming, we went to prom—I even bought her dress for her with the extra money I was making on the side landscaping. It was fantastic.

We never really fought. All my friends were jealous because they all thought she was “so damn hot,” and when it came time to plan which colleges we were going to go to, we decided to go to UCLA together. It would be a nice change from New Hampshire, and we wouldn’t have to miss each other or worry about the other one. That was when my issues reared their ugly heads.

But what if things don’t go as planned? What if one of us meets someone we like better? It’s a big school; how could we possibly know what’s going to happen in four years? What if she changes a lot in her freshman year? Everyone says that’s what happens when you go away to college. What if we decide we don’t love each anymore?

All my worries hit me like a truck. So what did I do? I broke up with Tina, withdrew my entry to UCLA, and went to Dartmouth instead.

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