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I smiled. “Perhaps.”
With a smile of his own, he waved at Ralphie. “Bye, Ralph.” Then he turned to me and said, “I’ll see you Friday, Ms. Melrose.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Bardot.”
19
Birdie
Confession: I try to help other people solve their problems, but I have no idea what to do with my own.
I kept a closer watch on Ollie that day. Meandering the halls was part of my job, so I made sure to do a couple of rounds past his locker, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary. At lunchtime, he sat with a couple other girls and guys from the school orchestra, but he seemed reserved, his eyes slipping out of focus when his friends didn’t notice.
After school let out, I closed my door and dialed his mom’s number. Audrey Howard. She was no longer in our system as a Bardot, which made talking to her while having feelings for her ex-husband a little easier.
She picked up the phone, and I said, “Hi, Ms. Howard. I’m Birdie Melrose, the guidance counselor at Ollie’s school.”
“Hi there,” she said. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m not sure. Ollie’s missing several assignments, and we’ve noticed he’s been a bit withdrawn lately. I was wondering if everything is okay at home?”
“Oh no,” she said, seeming concerned. (I couldn’t say that for all the parents I called with this kind of news. Half of them got frustrated by the inconvenience and half didn’t even care.) “We went out of town last weekend and he was okay then. Spent most of the time on his phone, although that’s not completely abnormal. My ex has him during the week, so he deals with most of the homework, and I usually don’t have to remind Ollie about it on the weekends, but I’ll give him an extra nudge on Saturday.”
“Okay,” I said, disappointed there wasn’t a clear problem with a solution I could find. “Will you let me know if you think of something?”
“Of course,” she said. “Hopefully we can fix whatever it is soon.”
I hung up, feeling dissatisfied. I hated it when my students were hurting. Especially hated when I didn’t know why or how to fix it.
With the call over, I got up and began gathering my things to go. I had an appointment to look at some apartments in Seaton. They were well under my budget, and if I liked them alright, I hoped I could even save some extra money to put toward a down payment on a home like Mara had.
As I drove across town, I pictured myself on this commute. It was about thirty minutes. Not too bad, but I’d definitely like living closer if I could.
The farther I got from the school, the shabbier the buildings looked. No doubt about it, Seaton was the poorest town in the area. We had a few students on scholarship from there, but other than that, I never thought about Seaton much, and I’d only been there a couple of times to look at the pier. But Mara and I had shared a postage stamp of an apartment in LA. I could make this work.
But even the apartment complex parking lot made me reconsider. Shards of broken glass littered the asphalt, glinting in the sunlight. Ripped up furniture sat haphazardly by the dumpster. And beyond that, there was a deadly silence to the area that was unsettling. Even the children outside were quiet, nervous, like they were waiting for something bad to happen.
I pulled in front of the main office and turned off my car, breathing deeply. Maybe this was just my upbringing rearing its ugly head. I’d been conditioned to think of poor as bad, and that wasn’t always true. I owed it to myself, and my budget, to give this place a chance.
I got out of my car and locked the door, then walked a few steps into the lobby. A fly strip hung over the reception desk, dotted with black carcasses, and a girl with inch-long fingernails sat at the desk, clacking on old computer keys.
“Hi there,” I said. “I have an appointment to tour an apartment.”
“Right.” She clicked on the mouse and stood up. “Come with me.”
I followed behind her, carrying my purse in front of me with both hands, as we walked toward the U building.
“Laundry is in the D and Z buildings. So you’ll have to walk to wash it. I recommend staying there until it’s done. If you have pets, you gotta pick up after them or you get a fine. Utilities aren’t included. Gotta set them up with the city...” She reached the building and swung open the door. The hallways were dimly lit with what looked like emergency lighting and painted a shade of lime green I’d never seen inside a building before. As we passed other tenants’ doors, I could hear the sounds of life—barking dogs, crying children, televisions turned too loud.
All the noises assailed my senses, making me feel overwhelmed and claustrophobic. Just the fact that I was here was a strong reminder of all I’d lost when Dax decided to walk away.
Dax and I had a plan—spend a couple years in the townhouse, buy an historic home in poor condition, and fix it up to be the one-of-a-kind home of our dreams where we’d live happily ever after. But that future was fiction, and I had to keep my mind in reality.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, and paused behind her as she took a key from her ring and shoved it in the lock. Just like at my office, she had to jiggle and shake it to get it to turn, but the door opened, and she led me into an apartment.
Believe it or not, the shade of dingy yellow on the walls was worse than the green in the hallway. The carpet had been stained and rubbed raw in places where an animal clearly used to scratch, a cat by the look (and smell) of it.
The kitchen was small with basic cabinets and black and white appliances. Stained laminate countertops. And the single bedroom was small with a simple closet. The bathroom had a pedestal sink and no room for storage.