March 5, 2003
Nicky,
I was surprised to call my brother and learn that you moved out of his apartment and dropped out of Pratt. My check that was meant to cover your tuition cleared. Is that the money you used to get into your own apartment? Don’t you think that’s something we should have talked about first?
I suppose it’s too late for me to reason with you, but I’m very concerned about the choices you’re making. I assume you’re getting a job and suggest that if you plan to return to school in the fall, you save enough to pay your tuition. I’m not going to give you money again unless you can prove that you’re more responsible and committed to your education.
Dad
3
The Sodom and Gomorrah Show
The beauty of working as a housekeeper for I Dream of Cleanie was that I usually didn’t have to work until after 10:00 AM. The downfall of living in a microcosm with three other people was that my roommates made a lot of noise in the morning. Because my room was off of the kitchen, I heard it all. I lay in bed and listened to the same dialogue each morning.
“Can’t I go first?”
“I’ll be five minutes. Ten, tops.”
“Hurry up. Don’t use all the hot water, like yesterday.”
“Give me a break, Morgan. When you get out of the bathroom, it looks like a steam room.”
“At least I hang up my towels.”
“At least I don’t hang my panties to dry over the curtain rod.”
“Where do you dry your panties, Roberto?”
“Shut up.”
Roberto slammed the bathroom door behind him. I finally got out of bed just as Morgan turned her wrath on Kendra.
“Is that my cereal you’re eating?”
I pulled back the sheet in my doorway and saw Kendra perched on a stack of boxes in the corner of the kitchen. She sat cross-legged, a bowl of cereal in one hand, a spoon poised midair between the bowl and her mouth, looking guilty as sin. Through a mouthful of cereal she mumbled, “No.”
Morgan, her back to me, folded her arms and said, “It is. Why are you eating my cereal? I clearly labeled everything that’s mine.”
“It’s mine,” Kendra insisted.
Morgan opened a cupboard and pulled out a Raisin Bran box. She shook it for dramatic effect and said, “This is your cereal. The one with three flakes and a raisin inside.”
“Sounds like our apartment,” Roberto yelled from the bathroom.
Morgan ignored him and said, “Mine was practically new, but now it’s half-full.”
“Or it’s half empty,” I said, moving past her to make toast. “Depending on your worldview.”
“Stay out of this,” Morgan demanded.
“Don’t mind me. I’m just waiting for my toast. Carry on with your interrogation.” Morgan sneered at me and over her shoulder, I could see Kendra cringe. I added, “Do you have time for this? Don’t you have to be at work soon?”
“I can manage my schedule on my own, thank you,” Morgan said. She turned to Kendra, glanced at the clock on the wall, then made a noise of exasperation as she went into her bedroom, obviously giving up.
“Thanks,” Kendra whispered.
“Don’t thank me. I just want peace and quiet. I don’t know why I have to wake up to this insanity every day.” My toast popped up and I caught it before it hit the counter. Even though I bleached it daily, I knew the counter was a roach playground in the middle of the night. When Kendra hopped from the boxes to the floor, I pointed at them and said, “I thought you guys were going to find a place for all your crap.”
Kendra rinsed her bowl in the sink and replied, “We will.”
“That’s what you said last week.”
“Most of it’s Morgan’s. You try getting her to do anything.”
“You got me there.”
Roberto passed through on his way to our room, a towel barely wrapped around his waist. “Yo.”
“Yo,” I replied to his retreating backside.
Kendra blushed, stammered something about it being her turn, and scampered into the bathroom. I took my tea and toast to the living room, the best place to avoid the others’ morning routines.
Roberto poked his head into the room, tossed my cell to me, and said, “Your phone just vibrated. I think you have a message.” While I listened to my messages, I heard the front door slam. A few minutes later, as I was dialing, it slammed again. Kendra meandered into the room and sank to the floor in front of me. She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off by holding up my hand.
“Benny, it’s Nick. I got your message. I’m sorry, but Chelsea? I don’t think I can—”
“What do you mean? Nick, I need you. Deshaun is sick. He covered for you when you were out sick. Besides, weren’t you the one who was begging me for more hours?”
“I wouldn’t say I was begging,” I protested.
“I’m really in a bind, Nick,” Benny whined. “I know you don’t like to work below Fifty-seventh Street, but there’s literally nobody else who can do this job. Anyway, the client’s a neat freak. You’ll hardly have to do anything. A little dusting, that’s all.”
I knew that was bunk. While it was true that our more anal retentive clients had cleaner apartments, they were also far more demanding. The smallest spot on a water glass, or a speck of dust on a bookshelf, sent them into fits of rage. But as a substitute, I wouldn’t have to break my back. If my work wasn’t up to snuff, Benny could apologize and promise I’d never darken their doorstep again.
“This is a one time thing, right?”
“Of course. You can fit him in between your ten and four o’clock clients. Please, Nick. You have to do this. He’s a very important—”
“Fine,” I relented. “I’ll do it.”
Benny gave me the address, and I groaned after I disconnected the call.
“Bad news?” Kendra asked. I’d almost forgotten she was in the room. Before I could answer, she said, “Roberto and Morgan are gone. Call in sick. I don’t want to go to my classes. Let’s goof off.”
“I can’t afford to goof off. I have bills to pay. So do you.”
“They don’t pay me to go to class,” she said. “Besides, I’m just talking about ditching class. I’ll go to work this afternoon.”
“Let me get this straight. You want me to miss work and not get paid, so I can keep you company and entertain you. But later, you’re going to ditch me, so you can go earn a living?”
“Uh, yeah,” she said.
“Nice try. Go to class,” I said. “I have to get ready for work.”
By the time I arrived at the temporary cleaning gig in Chelsea, I was already exhausted. My ten o’clock had been a single mother, which meant several loads of laundry. Of course she didn’t have a laundry room in her building. I had to schlep everything three blocks away, running back and forth between loads to wash dishes, vacuum, dust, and bleach everything her precious baby could possibly put in her mouth. Right before I left, there was a diaper