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"Jaruzelski," the handyman helped me out.
"Mr. Jaruzelski," I repeated. "That's really nice. It's great that you could come so quickly too." For that, however, I had to pay an express surcharge, which wasn't exactly small. The few dollars I would save because the repair had gone faster than expected were insignificant in comparison.
I sighed.
Money seemed to be slipping through my fingers these days.
"You'll need to pay right away, please," Mr. Jaruzelski said.
"Now?" I was horrified.
"Of course. That's why it's so cheap." Mr. Jaruzelski shrugged at me. "We agreed on this over the phone. Cash in hand."
Cash in hand? I must have missed that in my excitement. And why was that? Why no invoice?
In the same moment, I understood.
Under-the-table work.
Of course, I didn't say the word out loud. Firstly, I was grateful for the lower prices, and secondly... I couldn't change anything about it now anyway. Even if I had been against under-the-table work, I had already hired Mr. Jaruzelski. I had gotten his name from a business card in the kitchen drawer. Owen had put it there, as he always used to handle hiring handymen. Since he moved out, I'd been trying to do most things myself, more or less successfully. For other things, I had no money. But I couldn't fix the lock myself, so I remembered the address in the kitchen drawer. Owen had apparently hired under-the-table workers.
"Just a moment, please," I said to Mr. Jaruzelski and thought frantically. What should I do? I didn't have that much cash in the apartment.
More precisely: I had no money at all. Nowhere. Neither in the apartment nor in my bank account.
"Please come with me," I said to Mr. Jaruzelski. He obediently followed me down the hall to Hayley's apartment door. I rang the bell. When Hayley opened, I whispered, "Can you lend me 300 dollars? It's really urgent."
Hayley looked at me with a furrowed brow.
"For the handyman," I added.
"No problem," she replied. "I just had to think for a moment if I even had that amount in the house. But you're in luck. I was going to buy that used laptop and withdrew some money for it yesterday." With these words, she disappeared and shortly came back with some bills.
"Now you have to give up on the laptop because of me," I said, feeling guilty.
"I'll still get it. Don't worry about it."
I would have preferred not to take the money, but Mr. Jaruzelski's heavy breathing behind me left me no choice. The Eastern European handyman impatiently snatched the bills from my hand as soon as Hayley had given them to me. In the last few minutes, he must have started to doubt whether I could actually pay the bill. His friendliness, which he had shown just minutes ago, had vanished. He suspiciously counted the money. When he saw that the sum was correct, he said goodbye with a grunt and disappeared as quickly as he could, taking the elevator down.
I thanked Hayley once again.
"Don't mention it," she waved it off. "But now I'm afraid I have to kick you out. I have an urgent appointment soon and need to get ready."
"No problem," I assured her and went back to my apartment.
I had to borrow money. I hated that.
I never wanted to be in such a situation again.
Never again.
Never again should someone have to give up on a purchase because of me.
That was even worse than being the black sheep of the family.
I reached for my phone to make the call I had been putting off since this morning.
As it rang on the other end of the line, I felt my heart beating faster.