Conner reaches in, holding his hand out to me, and says, “Come this way.”
As I shuffle out, a thought that never occurred to me makes me realise how unrealistic this apartment plan of us moving in together can be. “I don’t have a car,” I admit. “And if I did… uh… buy a car, where would it go?” Then, I bite my lip and add, “I need to find the bus route for school.”
Conner smiles reassuringly and says, “I’ve already figured that out.”
His parking spot is near the elevator. He taps the button, and the red arrow above the elevator points downward. It is musky in the parking lot, and because it is already a humid day, being underground makes me feel stickier, and my hairline sweats.
“You will take my car to school, and I will take the bus.” I raise my hand to protest when he adds, “We will put you on the insurance in case of an accident, but it’s the best possible action. I will take the bus to the university because it’s closer, and you take the car.” He shrugs as we enter the empty elevator. “It doesn’t bother me.”
“And if I buy a car?” I ask curiously.
I might have to keep saving and get a car loan. Once I save more money, I might find a cheap car on Craigslist or Gumtree for under a thousand dollars.
I don’t want to use Conner’s car. I’m already burdening him by moving in as a roommate, unable to bring anything besides clothes. Now I’m feeling like a total weight on his shoulders that he hasn’t gotten rid of yet. When will he realise I’m not worth it?
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, ignoring my question. “You have been brooding ever since you asked that question. Do you doubt the move-in with me?”
“N-no, that’s not it,” I begin. “It’s… you do too much for me. It feels like I’m using you to escape everything bad in my life.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” he questions.
“No!” I exclaim, then flinch when he smirks. “I want to get away from everything bad in my life, but… but I’m not using you to gain it.”
“It really bothers you when I do things for you.”
“I don’t like owing people,” I admit.
Conner grunts, musing. “Would it make you feel better if we went halves on everything once we move in? Similar to how actual roommates would behave.”
“Yes,” I say enthusiastically. “That will make me feel so much better if we can do that, Conner.”
“Okay. Once we move in and work out the bills and how much to put away, we can sit down.” The doors open, and we step out to the fifth floor. “I called Tony from my old work and asked if I could pick up some shifts. Even though I know my commissions from the art I create are manageable, I’d like to pick up some more money so we can live more comfortably.”
“Oh…”
“It will help for when we travel for a year after you graduate as well,” he says, and his hazel eyes light up at the idea.
Art is part of our lives, and the thought of going on this journey with someone who understands me makes my heart flutter. I’ve already grown up paying bills and working so much to keep the broken home from crumbling. This time, though, it will be for a cause. I’m not trapped, holding the roof up, hoping I won’t hurt anymore. I’m not paying someone else’s bills, and I’m not paying for a TV I can never watch. I won’t be doing that anymore.
The corridor is brightly lit. The fluorescent lights glisten along the walls and doors in hollow holes, and no windows in sight.
We head down, nearing the end, but stop two doors short on the left. Conner inserts the card he used to get us into the parking garage, and as he opens the door, a beam of light soaks my entire body. Across the room is a kitchen, and overlooking the kitchen are massive windows showcasing the lake near the university. It’s a trendy walking spot for couples, from what Samantha has told me.
The living room is in front of the kitchen. Two two-seater sofas and a flat-screen TV hanging on the wall, and on the left side, the more I walk, stepping on the diamond-shaped grey tiles, there are three doors on the left side of the apartment. On the other side of the kitchen is a glass door that I assume leads to the balcony.
“The first room is the bathroom,” Conner announces.
I place my handbag on the table near the door. There are no windows in the bathroom, only saucer lights and a large vent in the centre. The tiles are sparkly blue and white. A shower tub is on the opposite side of the sink, and a toilet is crammed at the end of the sink.
“It’s a little small.”
“It’s nice,” I murmur.
Conner shows me the other two rooms. They already have queen-sized beds inside each, pressed against the wall. There are still no windows, but it doesn’t bother me much. Funnily enough, I feel secure that my body won’t be exposed in a place where I should be comfortable.
The next room is the same. Conner tells me to pick whichever one I want, and I immediately pick the one closest to the bathroom out of fear that he’d hear me pee if he had that room.
Conner places a cigarette in his mouth, opens the sliding door, and tells me he will be back in a few minutes. As the glass door closes, I overlook the living room again. I feel like a prop, as if I should be a lamp or part of the furniture. I don’t know what to do with myself, so I stand there awkwardly, unable to even sit down until Conner comes back inside.