Did you survive? If so, come meet some of us at Dolphin’s Fin around six. Half-price pitchers.
Relief floods my soul. I didn’t screw everything up with my weird kiss. At least it would appear that way.
Knowing my housing dilemma, my supervisor lets me cut out early. I walk to Housing and find a heavy-set, middle-aged lady sitting at a front desk, typing on her keyboard, not giving me a second thought.
“Hi,” I say.
She turns slowly and meets my eyes with a hint of unwarranted incredulity. “Yes?”
“I’m Kylie McBride. I started work here today. On Friday afternoon, Lauren gave me this key card for 1624, but it’s occupied.”
She takes the card and sets it down on the counter then keys something into the computer. “Yes, that one’s taken.” She turns back to me with raised eyebrows and her lips tight in a thin line.
I’m teetering on being put out, but I’m trying to keep a positive attitude. “Can I get the card to the one Lauren intended to put me in? I’m sure she just keyed the wrong number in.”
Another girl in her mid-twenties plops down in the chair beside this woman and takes a sip of a cup of steaming-hot something. She winces and scrunches up her face.
“Too hot?” I ask, hoping to open a friendly dialogue.
“God yes. I think I burned my tongue.”
“I’m Kylie McBride. I started here today.” I point to the lady next to her. “I was just telling her that Lauren gave me the wrong key card on Friday.”
The girl rolls her eyes. “I hate to say this, but I’m so glad she’s gone. She made a mess of our system. She wouldn’t listen to me. Every time I’d try to train her on something, she’d just hold her hand up and say, I got it, so finally I was like fine. If you got it, then go ahead and mess everything up and see if I care. It’s not my butt on the line.”
I dig deep to exercise patience. “Right. So I was wondering if I could get the key card to the correct housing unit.”
She sits up straight, poised in front of her computer, all business. “Name?”
“Kylie McBride,” I say, not mentioning I just said it a second ago when I introduced myself to her.
The girl types. “One y?”
I think about that a minute, not sure where she thinks the y should go. “Yes, in Kylie.”
She types quickly and then hits the return button with finality. Then she repeats the pattern. The furrow of her brow does not set my mind to ease.
“This is weird,” she says, then types more…lots more. After a few moments of this, she meets my gaze, her expression taking on a contrite manner that I really wish it did not. “So, I’ve got some bad news.”
No, not that. Anything but that.
“The housing that Lauren placed you in was occupied as of last Sunday.”
I smile through gritted teeth. “Yes, I do realize that. I’m here now to get the key to the correct housing.”
“We’ve got quite a waiting list for housing.”
“Yes, I was told that during the interview process, but I got the email last Friday that said my housing had been accepted.”
“Oh, yeah, that went out by mistake to all employees. We sent a second email retracting it.”
My patience is wearing about as thin as a thread. “I did not receive a second email. Had I received a second email, I would have made alternate plans.” I leave out the fact that, had this housing not gone through, I would never have been able to come here. I would have kept my plans quiet until I figured something else out.
She squints at me, pointing at my phone. “You should check your spam folder. Did you set us up in your address book as we strongly suggested in our original communications?”
I exhale a deep breath. “No, because I was receiving those emails just fine.” I go to my email on my phone and look in the spam folder, and there sits an email from Destiny Dunes with the subject line RETRACTION. My heart sinks all the way to the ground, and I could collapse right here in this business office.
I close my eyes and then open them slowly. “So there are no openings in any other housing units?”
“No. Sorry,” she says, looking not sorry. “But you are on the waiting list.”
I stare at her for a minute longer, and when she starts typing into her computer again, clearly not on my case, I finally turn and walk out.
I spend hours on the couch at the business center, scouring websites for a place to stay, but it’s hopeless. Everywhere I’ve called or checked out needs first and last month’s rent, and I just don’t have it—not even close. I can’t bring myself to ask Samantha for more money. She’s already done so much for me. And I’m damn sure not going to ask Joshua.
The problem is I’ve got to have somewhere for the night. I can’t just keep staying here with Brett. He’s only offered me a place to stay through the weekend, and time’s up.
Something’s gotta give. I simply don’t have money and I don’t have a credit card, or any credit, actually. I want to pull my hair out for fluffing through life up until now, relying on someone else to support me. As much as I hate to admit it, I’ve been a carbon copy of my mother. I thought I was so different from her because I wasn’t going to let myself
