Nick & Finn

Prolog

Ah, summer! That glorious time of year when rent is half as much for BYU students. The time when you don't have any classes, or at most one or two; the only time during your college career when you have time to catch your breath and catch up a little on the business of actual living. I had several summers in Provo, but there was one in particular that I will never forget.

It started out as the worst summer of my life. What had initially seemed like a promising relationship had fizzled suddenly and acrimoniously a few weeks before; not to mention that my ex inherited our group of friends at church, leading me to seriously ponder the need for a change of scene. In addition, one of my roommates was controlling and verbally abusive―this had been barely tolerable all year until I made the mistake of getting sick of it and standing up to him, at which point he became overtly malicious and sought to undermine me at every opportunity. I had a good setup for the following school year with some old mission buddies of mine, but as the summer approached it became clear that I needed to get out of that rapidly deteriorating situation as well. I had to adopt a new rule of thumb for apartments: when your roommate stresses start to affect your digestion, it's time to move.

So I found myself in the unenviable situation of needing a place to land with only days to go in the semester. Getting out of my old apartment was out of the question; apartments don't fill in the summer in Provo, and I couldn't in good conscience sell my contract to anyone I knew. To cancel the contract would have cost almost as much as the rent for the summer. I was left to find a cheap enough place to actually live so that the combined rent of both apartments wouldn't capsize my tenuous student budget.

The best balance of "Is Cheap" and "Is Not a Complete Dive" I found on short notice was a little place called Blue Arms, a three-story brick apartment building containing BYU-approved housing for single men. I found the listing in an online search with few details other than the price and that my particular set of chromosomes would be allowed in; but when I paid it a visit I saw that it would do. I walked straight up to the door of the rental office and basically said "Help!" to the smiling man who answered the door.

"You're in luck!" he beamed. "We had someone back out just this morning. If you had come here this morning we wouldn't have had anything for you. It must be meant to be! Hallelujah!"

I stifled a laugh, but I was so relieved to meet someone so sincerely, unequivocally friendly that I signed a contract on the spot. I walked home with a new spring in my step from the knowledge that I would at least have somewhere to go for the summer until I could move in with my friends.

So of course things got worse. The night before I was supposed to move I got into a protracted argument in which my roommate basically took it personally that I was moving out, and I basically told him that he should. I finally interrupted him mid-monologue to start carrying my belongings out to my car; he ended up yelling at me for the better part of an hour until all my things were packed. I slammed the car door shut and drove off while he was still yelling at me. For all I know, he's still yelling at me, and I don't care.

I drove to Blue Arms and knocked on the apartment manager's door again. "I know I'm not supposed to move in until tomorrow, but it would be really nice if I could crash here tonight. Look, I can pay you for the extra night; I can crash on someone's couch, it doesn't even have to be my room . . . " In spite of myself, I started bawling in front of him.

The manager's normally eager eyes opened wide in concern. "Um, are you okay? Do you need help?"

"I'm okay, I think," I sputtered. "I mean, I'm not hurt or anything. I'm just . . . I'm just getting out of a really, really bad place tonight. Look, I'm sorry, I'll go―"

"No, no, look, I can get you the key!" He said quickly. "You should've come over sooner. The guy who was in your spot moved out, like, three days ago for a study abroad. You can move in tonight―as long as everything's all right."

If this was true it was the first thing going right for me all day. "Thank you so much. I'll pay you for the extra night, I promise. Thank you. Thank you."

"Dude," he said earnestly, "please don't worry about that." He went out of the room and came back with a box full of keys. "This is the one. Look, you need anything, come back and see me, okay?"

"Okay. Everything's fine," I unconvincingly assured him. "Thank you."

I collected myself and left, the property manager still bewildered at what could have been going on in my life to make me burst into tears in front of him. I went to the car and grabbed a backpack and a pair of small boxes. I was suddenly filled with a wave of dread―what if my new roommates were just as bad? Please, Lord, I prayed, let my new roommates be nice.

Still filled with trepidation, I walked up the two flights of stairs to the top floor of the apartment building, found the right number, and tried the door. It was locked, though the light was on inside. I stuck the key in the lock.

Here went nothing.