“Your friend is probably right,” Max said. “In most parts of the city, the words ‘rent-control’ bring about fits of disbelieving laughter.” He grinned. “And then crying.”
“Then I won’t tell you what my rent is.”
“Bless you.”
“So when you’re not spending every waking hour being my sponsor, what do you do?” I asked.
“I’m an ER nurse at UCSF.”
“Really? You weren’t kidding. You are an around-the-clock lifesaver.”
He shrugged nonchalantly, but his smile told me he liked hearing that. “And what about you? Do you have a job lined up?”
“Indeed,” I said. “Massage therapist by day…”
“Yes?” Max said into my silence. “Usually there’s another half of the sentence.”
“I used to dance,” I said slowly. “In my old life, if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” he said. “Old life, drug life, new life. The life cycle of recovery. So did dance survive the drug life to re-emerge in the new life?”
“That remains to be seen,” I said with a small smile. “But I have hope.”
Max nodded. “Sometimes that’s all you need.”
We walked along a row of Victorian houses, each tucked between another, in a variety of colors. I glanced down at the address on my hand, then up to a cream-colored three-story wedged between a smaller, beige house, and one the color of old brick.
“That’s the one,” I said, pointing to the cream-colored.
“You’re kidding.” Max stared. “You’re going to live there? By yourself?”
“The studio on the third floor,” I said, hefting my backpack. “It’s really pretty, isn’t it?”
“Really pretty?” Max gaped. “That house is rent-controlled?”
“There’s that word again. Are you going to laugh or cry?”
“Cry.” He whistled through his teeth. “What you have here is a unicorn eating four-leaf clovers while shitting rainbow turds in the shape of winning lottery numbers.”
I laughed. “Well, it’s only for six months, and then I have to give it back and find a new place.”
“That’ll suck,” Max said. “After this Shangri-La, you’re going to be shell-shocked at how the rest of us plebes make it in SF.”
“That’s easy, I’ll just shack up with you.”
He laughed. “Maybe. But I could be outta here in a few months. Maybe sooner.”
I sagged. “What? Noooo. Don’t say that. I like you too much already.”
“Nothing set in stone, but I have a potential job transfer to Seattle in the works.” Max smiled down at me with warmth in his clear blue eyes. “I like you a lot, too. I don’t think I’ve ever made a friend faster.”
“I don’t like to waste time,” I said with a grin. “Want to come check out my unicorn?”
“So I can be more jealous? Some other time. In fact
...” He pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and checked the time. “Oh shit, I gotta run. My shift starts in twenty,” he said. “But I’ll take your bag up.”
“Nope, I got it.” I took it off his shoulder and dumped it on the sidewalk.