Chapter 12 - The Truth in the Foyer
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The thirty days leading up to the closing date were pure comedy.
My mother was forced to look for rental apartments for the first time in decades. She was utterly shocked to discover how expensive rent was in the real world.
"Do you know how much a simple two-bedroom apartment costs every month?!" Linda cried over the phone.
"Yes, Mom," I said.
"I manage commercial property leases for a living."
"It's absolute robbery! You're ruining our lives!"
"You lived rent-free for five years, Mom," I reminded her.
"That was a gift, not a permanent law of nature."
I offered to pay their rental security deposit and their first month's rent. I didn't do it out of guilt; I did it to guarantee they would actually pack their bags and leave before the closing deadline.
However, my mother rejected the first three apartments I found for them.
"This place is tiny!" she complained about a thirteen-hundred-square-foot unit.
"This one doesn't have a kitchen island!" she whined about another.
Linda cooked about four times a year. Her requirement for a kitchen island was purely so she had a place to stack her unopened mail.
Meanwhile, my father demanded that I give them free rent in one of my other investment properties.
"I am not becoming your landlord again, Dad," I stated firmly.
"You're holding a grudge!" he yelled.
"No," I replied.
"I'm establishing a boundary."
Tessa's situation was even worse. She couldn't afford an apartment on her own because her "accessory business" barely made enough money to cover her phone bill.
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She was forced to rent a small one-bedroom unit on the third floor of an old building.
It had no elevator.
