by T. J. LONG
A thought interrupts me. If I take the job, will Julia and Mark hear about it and think I ran away? Am I running away? I scratch my chin. “Ah shit, I don’t know.”
As I go to bed, that question spins in my head with no definite answer coming to mind. The job sounds incredible, and like a smart move, but I’m afraid I still might not be thinking clearly and I don’t want to make any rash decisions. I pray that when I wake I’ll have a better idea of what I should do.
***
The next day, while shoveling the last bit of Chinese food into my mouth, my phone rings. I look down to see Uncle Bill’s name on my screen. I clear my throat and pick up.
“Uncle.”
He laughs into the receiver. I’d never tell him this, but he reminds me of Santa because he's always jolly and laughing.
“Well, I haven't heard your voice in ages.”
I shake my head in disappointment. “I know. I’ve been busy,” I lie knowing that he knows exactly why I've been distant thanks to Mom and her gossipy mouth.
“I’m calling because your Mom told me she emailed you about the job opening here and I haven’t heard anything from you. Did you have a chance to read over everything?”
“She did. I read the email. I’m just stalling, deciding, but everything looks incredible.”
“Well, Son, I don’t mean to put pressure on you, but your mom sent that email close to three weeks ago if I’m not mistaken.”
I silently laugh into the receiver. “She did. I wasn’t sure if it was the right move for me, but I’m coming round to the idea that it may be just what I need.”
“We have a few professors interested, so if you want it, I will need to know pretty quickly.”
My bottom lip goes to the side. “How soon?” I say nervously.
“Well,” he laughs, “right now would be good.”
My head falls back and I mouth, “Fuck me.”
“You don’t need to interview me?” I ask, hoping that’ll buy me some time.
He lets out a full belly chuckle. “Being headmaster means I have the final say, and I know you’re fully qualified, Joshua. You have the degree, and with all of your volunteer work, you’ve proven you can handle yourself in a multitude of situations. And you’re family; it wouldn’t be right to not help you out. Plus, we both know your mother would put my head on a stick if I didn’t offer you the job first. Do you want to keep letting all of that college education go to waste, Son?”
“Um…” Shit, do I take it or not? I didn’t wake up feeling any more certain about what I should do, despite my late-night prayer for clarity. I take a moment to close my eyes and think about what my life could be in California. Visions of a mega-watt smile on my face while doing what I love most, helping others, loom in my head, and before I can comprehend what I’m doing, I say, “Yes, I want the job.”
“That’s great news. I’ll start on the paperwork tomorrow, so look out for my email. And get back to me more quickly this time, please.”
“Sounds good,” I respond, but I’m still in a daze and unable to think of anything else to say. I can't believe I just took a job across the country.
“Oh and, Josh, if you're interested, Carli’s friend is a realtor. I’m sure you’ll want to start looking for a place soon, and I hear she's the best in the area. I can email you her details.”
“Sure. That works. Thanks.”
“I guess I’ll see you soon.” He sounds hesitant, like he knows my decision hasn’t quite sunk in yet and I might need a minute for my brain to catch up and sort out any additional questions.
When all I can do is awkwardly say, Yup,” and let out a nervous snicker, he tells me to follow up if I think of anything later and hangs up the phone.
My first thought is to call my Mom and tell her everything. The phone rings in my ear as I wait anxiously for her to pick up. The nerves of having to pack up and move and the excitement of starting over are coursing through my body, making my skin tingly.
“Hello, my boy,” she sings.
“Hey, Mom. I have some news.”
She breathes in. “What?”
“I just got off the phone with Uncle Bill.”
"… And?” she asks impatiently.
“I took the job.”
“That’s great, hunny. You have always been your happiest when helping people and now that’ll be a constant. I am very proud of you.”
“I’m nervous,” I let out in a huff.
“Of course you are. You’re picking up your life and moving across the country. Anyone would be nervous. But you'll be fine. Better than fine.
Mothers know best, right? I’m counting on it.
“Thanks, Mom, I was needing some assurance. I think it will be a good move. It’s about time something went right.”
“Everything will be perfect. Plus, you’ll be closer to me and Dad.”
“That's the one big perk.” I smile into the phone.
“When are you going to start looking for a place to live? I’m sure you’ll want to settle in before work starts.”
“Soon. Uncle Bill says Carli’s friend is a realtor, so I plan on using her. Hopefully, I find something quickly. This is crazy.” I shake my head in disbelief.
I gaze around my post-war apartment, at the exposed pipes on the ceiling and the German smear brick walls. I sure will miss this place. I got into a bidding war with two other interested parties and barely won. I was thankful I could dip into my trust fund to buy it. I’d rather not sell it until I know for sure that California is the right place for me, but anywhere is better than here. I know what will happen if I stay, or if I leave and come back. Even after the black cloud that’s been looming over my heart dissipates, seeing them with their child would drudge up bad feelings again. I need a clean slate. Moving to a state where no one knows me or my shitty relationship history is a win, even if the job doesn't work out.
“Without risk, there's no reward. This move will be good for you, you’ll see.”
“Okay, Mom, I’ll let you go. I just wanted to call and tell you I took the job.”
“Well, let me know what’s going on. Don’t leave me in the dark, Josh. I love you.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I get more details. I love you too.”
***
The following day I get an email from Bill with more details on the start date and a code of conduct that he’d like me to sign and fax back to him as soon as possible so he can get my profile and clearances ready.
I grab my laptop and get comfortable on the couch. Now is as good a time as any to browse apartments for rent in the LA area. My google search turns up five thousand results. I narrow the search so I can only see properties within a ten-mile radius of my new job’s address. I prefer to be close to work because, as of late, I haven’t been an early riser and LA traffic is said to be a bear. I feel myself getting overwhelmed; even with the limited search area, there are still too many listings to go through.
I open Uncle Bill’s message where he gave me Sarah the realtor’s details. I draft a new email and introduce myself. I make sure to mention that the job I’m moving for doesn't start until the end of August but that, as soon as I find an available place, I have no qualms with moving immediately. I send the email and feel a smidgen of stress leave me. Knowing I’ll be working with a professional takes the pressure off.
My phone chimes with an alert a few hours later. I open it to find a response from Sarah. She says she’d like to call me to discuss what exactly I’m looking for. I give her my number and let her know I am looking forward to working with her.
The next day when my phone rings and I see it's Sarah, nerves course through me. It’s happening. I rub my palms together in anticipation before picking up.
“Hello?” I say anxiously
“Hello, Mr. Bailey, it’s Sarah. How are you doing today?” She sounds cheerful. I wonder if that cheerfulness is from all the extra vitamin d she gets.
“Doing great. Thanks for askin
g. How about yourself? How’s the California weather?”
She laughs into the phone. “I’m fabulous and it’s a beautiful, warm, and sunny day here. What’s the weather like where you are?”
“Not as nice as yours, that's for sure. Another chilly overcast day.”
“No worries; we’ll get you moved here to the sunshine soon enough.” I appreciate her enthusiasm. “Why don’t you tell me a little about what you’re looking for?”
“Well, I’m leaning toward a two-bedroom apartment, but If I really like the place and the square footage is good enough, I can probably make a one bedroom work.”
“Okay, great. And what is the ideal square footage you’re looking for? I’ll warn you, the more affordable apartments aren’t going to give you a lot of space.”
“Right now I’m in 1,100 square feet and it works well for just me. I’d prefer to stay around that. Is that doable? Also, I’m not too concerned with the price.”
She makes a noise. I wonder if she’s curious as to why price isn’t an issue for me. Being a trust fund baby isn’t a fact about myself I enjoy throwing around. I know the assumptions that come along with that title and I’m none of those. I’ve worked hard my whole life and so did my parents.
“Um… I can definitely find something. Let’s talk about parking. I’m not sure what it’s like for you in Philadelphia, but here in LA, parking spots are hard to come by and you will most likely have to pay extra for the complexes that have garages.”
“It's about the same here. I’m fine with that,” I tell her.
“Do you have preferences on appliance colors or carpet versus hardwood?”
I cock my head to the side to think. “I’m partial to hardwoods and updated appliances would be nice.”
“Excellent. Well, I think I've got a good start here. I’ll go through some listings and email you the ones I think you'd be interested in and we’ll go from there. I’ll be in touch soon. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Short and to the point, just the way I like it. I’m so used to being the boss, it's a pleasant switch-up to put this task in someone else's hands.
When we hang up, I feel excited and hopeful. Though there was a small amount of anxiety that resonated in my body during the call, it didn’t show through. I’m good at relaying the image of a confident businessman after handling contracts and managing projects for the foundation for years. The anxiety I feel stems from knowing that this decision will end my world as I have known it. Sooner than I can even fathom I’ll be in California with a whole new life, a better one. Even if it’s scary to imagine, I know I’m making a good decision. This is a huge change, but thankfully, for the first time in a long time, the good is outweighing the bad.
***
When I wake up the following morning—err, I guess twelve-thirty isn't technically morning, but it's better than the two and three pm “mornings” I was having during my bender—I reach for my phone and check to see if I have any emails from Sarah. I do. She has sent me a handful of listings, prefacing the links with a message that reads: “Hey, Mr. Bailey, here are a few listings I found that have recently come on the rental market. Let me know if any of them interest you ASAP because they will not last.”
I click on the first listing and am shocked. It's like the one I’m in now. The transition would be easier if I could go from this apartment to one that looks so similar. The square footage is smaller, at 900sqft, but it’s not a drastic difference. I grab a pen and paper so I can write down the address.
The next listing is just as nice, but I can’t help noticing a trend. She wasn't lying when she said you pay for square footage. The apartments are expensive. I don't have an issue paying the rent, but it seems idiotic to spend so much on rent when a mortgage would be the same price or less. Buying would take more time though and I’d prefer to get this whole process over with as quickly as possible. I’ll have to settle on renting for now.
If the move proves to be a good decision, then I can always use Sarah again for when I’m ready to purchase. She was friendly on the call and I appreciate her drive. Being the age she is and already being at the top of her field is impressive.
I go through the other three listings. They all look great, though I’m definitely not a fan of the floor to ceiling window trend they have going on in LA.
Conscientious of her request for a speedy reply, I let her know I am interested in the first one I looked at. If I’m going to be spending an arm and a leg on rent, I may as well have it be a place that feels familiar.
My phone rings thirty minutes later with Sarah’s name popping onto the screen. I get excited that she’s calling with good news, but when I pick up and she hastily says, “Hey...” I know it won’t be.
“Did someone already take it?” I ask, shocked.
“Yes, unfortunately things move fast here.”
Damn, that was more than fast.
“Did you like any of the other listings?” she asks, hopeful.
I scratch my chin in thought. “Eh, they were all decent, but I’m kind of wondering since this place didn’t work and I’m not sold on the others if I shouldn't just look into buying a house.”
“Buying is always a good option. Resale value is high here.”
Even though the brick apartment came with a ridiculously high rental price I still would have taken it if it were available. The added familiarity would have been worth the cost. However, the good news is it seems properties moves fast enough that if I did buy and things didn't work out, I wouldn't have to worry about it sitting on the market forever. “Hmm.” I bunch my lips trying to come to a decision. Rent or buy?
“It still seems you’re unsure on renting or buying so how about I send you a mix of apartments and homes. That way you can see all of your options. Just give me a few days and I should have some great places for you to choose from.”
“That sounds wonderful. I’m sorry I’m so indecisive,” I say regretfully.
“Oh, please, you are fine! And don’t worry, your dream home is out there and I will find it,” she says confidently.
“I believe you. Uncle Bill said you were the best.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet. I don’t know if I’m the best, but I appreciate it.”
“I don’t want to keep you. I’m sure you’ve got work to do. I’m looking forward to what you find for me.”
She laughs. ”Okay, no pressure,” she jokes. “We’ll talk soon, Mr. Bailey.”
Thankfully, talking to Sarah about properties this time doesn't dredge up as many anxious feelings. The feelings do come back in full force, though, when I print and begin reading the code of conduct for my new job. The code of conduct is basically just a “Do this, don’t do that” list. It seems pretty generic. No alcohol on school grounds, no smoking, no student-teacher relationships. I mean, obviously, I have no qualms with any of it. I sign my name on all the designated spots and fax it back to him.
The fact that I am moving and committing myself to a job in a new state is mind-boggling though. I’ll also be doing a job I’ve never done before. Sure, I have all the qualifications, but studying the field is different from being in the field. Would I even be good at it? I pray the nerves and inadequacy that bloom in me go away, and fast. I don’t want to disappoint Uncle Bill or make him regret hiring me.
***
Two days later, as promised, Sarah sends me an email with houses and apartments that might interest me. I take my time going through each listing. Again, the apartments look nice but the price throws me. It confuses me why anyone would pay upwards of ten thousand dollars a month for a place they don't even own.
When I look at the first house, I’m impressed. It's got a lot more space than one would find here in Philly, and because it needs updates, it’s not as expensive as I was expecting. It’s just not exactly what I envision for myself. The kitchen is closed off and needs work and there isn't a deck, which would be a perk. I can see myself coming home after a long day at work, grabbing a
beer and my Kindle and relaxing in a chair, enjoying the warm breeze. We only have a few months of warmth to enjoy in Philly, and if I am going to buy instead of renting in California, I want to take full advantage of the weather.
When I get to the second house, I’m floored. My face makes its way closer to the laptop screen. A long driveway leads to a garage, which is something you’d never find in Philadelphia. The listing says it’s newly remodeled and you can tell. There are white and grey marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, and the living room and kitchen are open-concept. And the best part: the kitchen leads out to a large wooden deck.
“I think you’re the one,” I say to my computer screen.
For the sake of due diligence, I look at the other listings Sarah sent but none come close to the marble kitchen and deck of the first house.
I shoot her a text because after the brick apartment fell through I’m scared this one will too. She messages me back immediately and tells me she’ll contact the listing agent so we can schedule a showing. Since I am across the country, she tells me we can do a FaceTime viewing. I appreciate her flexibility because flying there and back and then having to pack and return in such a short time frame would be too stressful. Just thinking about it makes my brain scramble.
As I hoped, the FaceTime viewing goes amazing. The photos didn't do the house justice. The kitchen looks even bigger and brighter in video than in the pictures and the deck will definitely act as my man cave. The upstairs has hardwoods throughout and the en suite is a dream, with a walk-in rain shower and a his-and-her vanity that I’ll get sole use of. I don't have an excessive amount of self-care items but the things I have, thankfully, wouldn't end up in different areas of the house given my single status. That was one thing that used to annoy the shit out of me about Julia. Whenever I’d leave anything on the counter, be it a razor or a hair pomade, I’d come back later to find it missing. Whenever I’d ask if she saw it she’d say “No, but if you put your things away, then you’ll always know where they are.” My guess is she was throwing my stuff away.
