COVERT : Spencer Reid (II)

02

The hallway echoes too much. I don't like it already. There's a balcony, in-unit laundry, and three bedrooms. It's a skeleton though. The kitchen's been gutted, the ceiling cracked, and there are bulbs hanging in every room rather than light fixtures.

"This is a shithole," I look over at Estelle.

"Your shithole," Estelle grins, looking over her shoulder as she taps the wall.

When Estelle wants something, she gets it. Maybe it's my chance to put my foot down. There's a Global Recession. I don't think Estelle could have picked a worst time to get in her mind that we need to own homes, but as we approach thirty closer and closer every year, she is getting less flexible. Our landlord won't let her renovate the kitchen. She wants a new oven more than a condo, I think.

"The mortgage is ridiculous," I point out.

"Your salary just increased," she counters. "You didn't have any investments beforehand, which I would say is silly of you, but the way things are now your lack of financial know-how makes you lucky. This is maybe the cheapest you'll ever pay for a home. The down payment is so low."

Ridiculous mortgage aside, I could put down double the down payment. The people who lived here before gutted the place, selling everything they could to try to keep it, rather than let the bank take it.

"It's morbid," I grimace.

Estelle sighs, "you're right. But we could paint it. Put up photographs and art, and a cool backsplash. If we don't make a happy home out of this miserable place, some rich banker is going to get it, and that's even worse, I think."

She's sold on the place. From what I hear, no one else has toured it. I was just starting to like our last home, which we've lived in for less than a year. I was supposed to stay put. I suppose this is one way to do it, but an aggressive one.

"I'll think about it."

Estelle glares at me, "just like you're thinking about applying to Georgetown?"

I cross my arms over my chest. She pulls herself back from the wall to stare at me.

"They aren't accepting part-time PhD applications," I gesture to the apartment. "If you want this palace, you need me to bring in the money."

Estelle nods, moving around me to look at the bare kitchen. Her PhD programme will be finishing in the next two years, and she doesn't know where she will say. We've agreed that if I get this place, she'll pay utilities, shared household items, and the bulk of groceries. We'll split the renovations fifty-fifty. Estelle got a sizeable grant this year, so she's got more money to throw around. I keep the house at the end, since she's putting nothing towards the mortgage nor the down payment. If she's only got two years left for her PhD, I don't really understand why we can't slum it in shitty student accommodations for a bit longer. I'd rather be a co-signer for Caro, since both my brothers never have more than six hundred dollars between them.

It's Estelle though. And she's standing where the fridge will be. I imagine her smiling in the white light, peeking through the ingredients. I can see our radio on a cheap counter, playing a song. If I hate it, buying it now is a good idea. Once the market is back to normal, it will only be worth more.

"Is it closer to Reid's place?" Estelle looks at me, cocking an eyebrow.

I sigh, "that's not really a deciding factor for me."

"If we're closer maybe he will come over more."

I look at her and she shrugs, a sneaky smile on her lips. There's no need to rehash this conversation again and again.