Page 23 of IOU

She sighs into the phone.

She knows. If anyone on this planet can relate to this situation, it’s my mother. When she was my age, she fell madly in love and whoops, got pregnant. Her beau, we never speak his name, disappeared, transferring schools and leaving her with an unfinished degree and an infant. She dropped out of school, moved back home, and became a waitress. She never married and ended up being a jam up manager at the local diner called Mae’s.

No, she isn’t Mae. But Mae taught her everything she knows, and now Mae’s is opening another store in Atlanta. Mom’s proud to have been such an integral part of this expansion. So is Grandma, but she would never admit it.

All this to say, my mom is not a proponent of men. The only man in her life is the cutest dog ever, Opie. Together, they live a single, happy life.

“Loss, any kind of loss, is hard. Take all the time you need. Find yourself, Ainsley. The world is a vast place, and there’s no need in limiting yourself over one prick with a saggy ass.”

“Mom!” I can’t help the snort that escapes.

“You’re going to hell for saying such things.”

But it’s true. Ten billion squats could not help Tucker’s ass. It’s flat as a pancake. So flat that you can’t even see the curve in his underwear. But when you love someone, you love them for all their faults and imperfections.

“Well, if I’m going to hell, then I’ll sit by your father, so I can torture him forever.”

I smile, noting all thein search offlyers. There’s several, but they are all out of my price range.

“I think that’s the perfect punishment he deserves.”

I try not to encourage her online stalking of my father. It’s been twenty years, but I guess when you’ve been burned as she has, you want to know what someone has that you didn’t. I’ve never met or spoken to my father. He’s been a ghost in our lives, and that’s just fine with me. My grandfather was the father in my life. I never wanted for love or attention, so there was no need to seek out my sperm donor. I’d rather not know if he’s equal to or less than my thoughts of him after all these years.

I can feel my mom’s smile through the phone. I miss her crazy ass. “Are you looking for somewhere else to stay?”

I nod at the bulletin board. “Yep. I’m looking as we speak. Not much is listed that I can afford.”

The line goes silent, and I know what she’s doing. “No, you aren’t taking another loan on your retirement account. I’ll be fine. I’m sure there are rooms I can afford somewhere. I’ve only hit one board so far. There’s like a bazillion here, not to mention the ones posted online. I got this.”

She exhales a worried breath. I’m only lying a little bit. This isn’t the first board I checked. It’s about the eighth, but she doesn’t need to know that. The woman is a fixer. She’d auction off her soul if she thought I needed something.

“I can ask your grandmother for some money,” she says, her voice strained.

“We’re not that desperate,” I respond.

That gets a laugh out of her.

“I promise I’m fine. I can make this work. I just need to find the right person.” And she has to be here somewhere on one of these boards. All I have to do is keep searching.

“Okay, sweetheart, if you’re sure. You promise to let me know if you can’t, though, right?”

I nod again and realize she can’t see me some eighty miles away through the phone. “I promise.” Opie, the one and only man in her life, whines in the background. “It sounds like Opie is ready for his afternoon walk.”

She baby-talks to him, and I miss what she says, but he stops whining, so she must have assured him they were heading out soon. “Call me tonight?” she asks, as shuffling crackles over the speaker.

“I promise.”

I’m sure I’ll need some comforting when I’m sleeping in my car again. I won’t even be able to sleep at the fire station because I assured Boss I would secure a place tonight. And the whole alarm thing was awful. I just can’t do it another night.

Mom and I hang up, and I stuff my phone back into my bag. There has to be something here. I’m not picky. If I could find another part-time job, I could afford the steeper rents posted. Either way, I have options. It’s just a little slim today.

Scanning, I find listings from everything from turtle sitting (which doesn’t sound too awful) to tutoring to sharing a one-bedroom, one mattress apartment. Yeah, like that’s going to happen, Clint, whoever you are. That’s not a real listing. Our fine Clint is looking for a hook-up. You have to be careful with ads. I’ve seenSingle White Female, and if that movie didn’t teach me enough about stranger danger, then the last two years at Havemeyer and these bulletin boards sealed the horror.

Rumor has it these boards are mostly hook-up ads. Any guy looking for a roommate is a no-go. I would never want a guy for a roommate anyway. After sleeping over at Tucker’s apartment, I feel pretty damn sure that guy roommates are basically code for a free, live-in maid. I’m not about that life. I want a quiet roommate who enjoys studying and contributing to her share of groceries and cooking. Picking up after herself and a Netflix subscription is also a plus. But I’m not going to be picky. For now, I’ll settle for a roof over my head and running air conditioner.

This board scavenge has been a waste. There’s nothing here I can afford or that I want to tempt fate with and have some kind of Ted Bundy roommate. I don’t mean that to sound like this is some kind of war zone around here. It isn’t. Havemeyer is a bustling university. The problem is it’s a rumor mill of epic proportions. Half the time, I can’t distinguish the rumors from the truth. So, in instances that I’m unsure between fact and fiction, I err on the side of caution.

I’m not down to become some captive or frat girl being passed around between the guys. I just want to do my time, get my degree, and move on with my life sans Tucker and his horrific morning breath.

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