13
Moving Out
Natalie
As the two weeks my landlord had given me drew slowly by, I found myself wondering whether this was really my life or an illusion, a cosmic prank intended to test my character. But as the days unfolded, it became all too apparent this was really happening. One morning, as I was cleaning the kitchen, Derek left empty boxes on my doorstep, knocked on the door to announce their presence, and fled before I opened it. I caught a glimpse of him turning the corner. He was too ashamed even to face me, and yet, he was evicting me, nonetheless.
But finally the day arrived, and I notified my parents of the situation. I hadn’t told them, for fear of worrying them, but the short notice and anxiety that crept into my tone as I called to tell them had the opposite effect, they were mortified. In a panic, they transferred $200 into my account, insisting I use the money to rent a U-Haul and bring all my things to their house, where I could store them in the basement. And, of course, Sophie and I could stay with them for as long as we needed. I was reluctant at first, but realizing I didn’t have any alternative options, I complied.
I rented the U-Haul early that morning, just after sunrise, and by the time the sun had reached its peak I had managed to pack more than half of my possessions into the boxes Derek had left for me. I didn’t have much furniture, but what little I did have—two armchairs, an L-shaped couch, and two beds—wouldn’t fit comfortably into the car, and so Sophie and I went to drop off a first load. My parents offered to help with the rest of the moving, but I insisted I had it under control. I didn’t want to inconvenience them more than I felt I had already.
It was as I pulled back into the apartment complex for the rest of my things that I saw Lucas, who was pulling in just behind me. I panicked, he knew nothing, or at least very little, about the extent of my financial troubles, and I didn’t want that to change. I knew he could help me easily, if he wanted to, but I couldn’t ask him to. I just couldn’t. And so, when he saw me emerge from the U-Haul, squinting his eyes to see whether it was really me, and asked what was going on, I embellished the truth.
“My parents want me to move back in with them,” I told him, which was true. “They officially retired, and I want them to spend more time with Sophie,” I also told him, which was not.
He shook his head sympathetically. “Oh, Natalie, I’m so sorry. Really, I am.” He smiled softly, in a comforting way, and for a brief moment my heart broke, and I considered telling him the truth. But then the feeling passed, and I remembered I had made it this far on my own. I wouldn’t ask for help unless it was absolutely necessary; for the time being, it wasn’t.
“It’s alright,” I said. “I appreciate it.”
“Well, hey, you’re not done packing yet, are you? Let me help you out with the rest of it, it’s the least I can do.”
I opened my mouth to protest. Then, realizing I did in fact need help—I had only rented the U-Haul until 6p.m. and already it was pushing 3p.m.—I nodded tentatively. “Yes… I’d like that a lot, actually. Thank you, Lucas.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, smiling, and I felt my cheeks flush. Embarrassed, I turned away, leading him and Sophie up the stairs to the apartment.
“Alright, so I’ve already taken most of the stuff—”
“I helped, Mommy!” interjected an indignant Sophie.
I looked at her, smiling. “Yes, that’s true—we’vealready taken most of the stuff, but still need to take the furniture and some of my paintings.”
Lucas arched an eyebrow. “Ah, the famous paintings. Finally I get to see them!” He grinned then, as though genuinely excited to see them. I wanted to tell him they weren’t that good, and besides, I hadn’t painted anything in the past couple of years, but I didn’t want to detract from his excitement. It felt nice to have someone want to see my art, especially when that someone was Lucas.
“Right,” I said. “Well, let’s start with the furniture, we can save the best for last.”
He nodded, and we went about moving the furniture—Lucas and me carrying, Sophie supervising—which, with two people, had taken less than an hour. As we packed away the last bed, Lucas turned to me and smiled.
“Now for the moment of truth,” he said.
I felt nervous, suddenly. Nobody had seen my art in a long time, and I wasn’t sure if Lucas would even give me his honest opinion. He would find something nice to say—praising the concept, or the technique, or some minor detail—and I wouldn’t know whether he actually enjoyed the art as it was. Not that it mattered, really. Only it did. To me, just then, it did.
“Right… the moment of truth,” I echoed. “Right this way.”
I led him into the apartment and prompted him to wait in the living room, while I ran into the bedroom, which was now just a room, and dug the paintings from my closet.
“Alright, now close your eyes,” I instructed him, and he did. Carefully I carried the paintings past him, arranging them across the living room floor as if it were a gallery wall. There were more than I remembered, and I felt a sudden twinge of sadness—I had loved painting, more than anything, but circumstances hadn’t allowed for it. But then I realized what was happening, I was having my first art show, and my audience was someone whose opinion I respected.
“Alright, now open them,” I said. And he did.
For a moment he was silent, his eyes gliding thoughtfully across the canvases, some of which were framed, others of which were mere canvases.
“Natalie…” he began, and I held my breath. “Natalie, these are spectacular. I mean it, really.”
I exhaled, almost too loudly, and felt as if I were going to cry. I didn’t know why his approval meant so much to me, but it did. “Thank you, Lucas,” I managed quietly. I looked at Lucas; he looked at me. I wasn’t quite sure what I was feeling, or what he was thinking, but I knew we were having a moment.
“Wow!” shouted Sophie, disrupting it. “Good job, Mommy!”
Lucas laughed, and I suddenly looked away. “Thank you, honey,” I said, picking her up. Then I turned toward Lucas. “I wish I could say I’ve been keeping at it, but it’s been a few years since I did anything serious…”