Pay Your Rent

Chapter 2: Arabella

I pressed my back against the door frame and slid down, feeling the earlier discoveries of the day press down on my shoulders. I would def have to call management. My right hand instinctively lifted to tuck a few stray strands of my brown hair behind my ear, and I let out a long sigh, trying to shake off the stress. The moment the sigh escaped my lips, though, my phone started ringing.

Crap. I suddenly remembered I'd thrown it during my ridiculous stand-off with a mouse. With another sigh, I forced myself to my feet, scanning the room for where the phone might have landed.

It only took a few seconds to find it, and when I picked it up, I groaned. "Fuck," I muttered under my breath as I stared at the fresh crack running across the screen. Perfect.

Still, I answered with a forced cheeriness, "Helloooo."

"Hey! Did you make it?" Sarah's familiar voice piped up from the other end of the line. Her excitement was contagious, but I felt a twinge of guilt for not texting her sooner.

"Oh god, Sarah, I'm so sorry. I totally forgot to let you know I got here safely. There's been... a lot." I mused, glancing around the still-empty apartment.

"Ooo, do tell! But I'm glad you made it safe at least." She sounded gleeful, eager for details.

"Well," I began, sinking back down onto the floor, "First, I get here and get *attacked* by a mouse. Like, I screamed, obviously. Then my neighbor—who I haven't even officially met—pounds on the door to yell at me for screaming. So, there goes making a good first impression. Then the place? Totally different from the photos. Oh, and after my little battle with the mouse, which I won, by the way, I dropped my phone. Now I have this huge ass crack in the screen. Just my luck on the beautiful day huh?" I huffed, putting the phone on speaker so I could glare at it properly.

Sarah's laughter erupted through the speaker. "That's what you get for leaving me!" she teased between giggles.

I couldn't help but smile despite the chaos. "I'm sorrryyy! You know I had to get out. And besides, you can always visit." I tried to empathize.

"Yeah, yeah. Maybe once you're all settled in. Has your stuff been delivered yet?"

I glanced around at the completely empty space. "Nope. The moving company said they'd be here later today. It's not a lot, but I couldn't fit anything in my car." I twirled a strand of hair absentmindedly.

"Well, good luck with that. Send me pics of the place when you can!" she added, her voice still light with amusement.

After agreeing and saying our goodbyes, I hung up. The quiet that followed was strange, almost too still. I could hear muffled voices from the neighbors, but being alone in this unfamiliar apartment was... unsettling. I would have to change it by getting a tv and having it play in the background or something.

I didn't have much furniture yet, just a few boxes and my bedroom set that were en route. In the meantime, I decided to be productive. I dug through my suitcase, pulling out my laptop and setting it up on the floor near the only available power outlet.

I powered it on and waited as the screen booted up, my thoughts drifting to the new job I was starting tomorrow. It was hard not to feel a little anxious. Tomorrow, I'd be meeting my new coworkers at one of the biggest real estate companies in New York. I would also be working on the financial side of things. Sure, it was mostly bookkeeping—probably boring to most people—but I'd always liked numbers. Weird, I know. Math had always made sense to me, so making it my profession seemed like a natural fit. So yeah! Lots of pressure to make sure things go right.

A few emails popped up in my inbox. Scrolling through them, I was pleased to see that my start time was around lunch. "Sweet," I thought to myself, happy that I'd get to sleep in a bit. I made a mental note to set my alarm later than usual. At least I had one saving grace.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed when the door buzzer suddenly sounded, startling me. I scrambled to my feet and raced to the intercom. The delivery crew was here.

"Finally!" I muttered, buzzing them in. I grabbed my keys and hurried downstairs to meet them. Watching them haul in box after box, along with my few pieces of furniture, I started to feel a little more at ease.

As the movers brought in the last of the boxes, I stood in the doorway, half-heartedly directing them. My small collection of furniture was nothing fancy—just a bed frame, a mattress, and a dresser. Still, seeing it all here, in my own space, felt surreal.

"That's everything, ma'am," one of the movers said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Thanks," I replied, forcing a smile. After they left, the silence of the apartment hit me again. Just the little buzz of voices from the neighbors, but no humming from any electronics. Just me, standing amidst cardboard boxes in an empty space.

I stood there for a moment, trying to decide what to tackle first. My eyes landed on the kitchen, its outdated appliances and questionable tiles staring back at me. I sighed, knowing that organizing the kitchen could be the first step, but feeling completely

Instead, I flopped down onto my mattress, still wrapped in its protective plastic. I hadn't even bothered to unbox my sheets yet. Lying there, staring up at the ceiling, the reality of the move started to sink in. This was my new life. No mom downstairs, no Sarah a short drive away. Just me. I had craved this independence for so long, but now, in the stillness of the moment, it felt a little overwhelming.

Maybe Sarah was right. Maybe leaving everything behind so abruptly wasn't the best idea? But deep down, I knew it had to happen. I needed this—my own space, my own decisions, my own life. I had to push myself out of my comfort zone. Even if it came with cracked phone screens, rodent battles, and judgmental neighbors.

I rolled over, grabbing my phone and pulling up the camera. "Might as well send Sarah some proof I survived," I muttered, snapping a quick photo of the chaos. Boxes were scattered everywhere, the furniture still stacked awkwardly, and my suitcase was half-unpacked in the corner. I texted her the photo, adding a simple caption: This is what it looks like.

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed with her response: Looks more like a disaster, but you do you, babe.

I chuckled, sitting up. She wasn't wrong, but I had a feeling that once everything was unpacked, it would start to feel like mine. This was just the beginning, and I was determined to make it work. I just had to call the landlord first for the rodent problem and do some heavy cleaning.

With a renewed sense of purpose, I got up and started unpacking. One box at a time, this place would become home. And tomorrow, when I walked into my new job, I would carry this same determination with me. Maybe things weren't perfect right now, but they were mine. And for the first time in a long time, that was enough.