#good old ern never put her rent up either

[takivvatanga]

a new home.

“Ern here.” The phone is answered much faster than she had anticipated. Two rings. Only two rings. She’d hoped for more. Some time to get the words into order in her head, to try and remember how to breathe. Assire tenses, her free hand pressed against the cool glass of the phone booth. She opens her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. 

“Hel-lo?” The male voice on the other end of the line rise a little. Harsh. Irritated.  You can do this, she tells herself, desperately. You have to do this.  “I-” “Who is this? Speak up, I can’t hear ya.” “Good morning.” That’s a good way to start, isn’t it? Only it’s not morning at all, it’s barely still afternoon! This was a mistake. He’s going to hang up on her, surely, take her for some kind of prank caller, a waste of his time. Assire pulls the folded piece of newspaper out of her pocket, unfolds it awkwardly, squints at the notice that she has circled in red marker. 

FURNISHED ROOMS FOR RENT NO BOND REQUIRED SHORT OR LONG TERM CALL ERN 

“Listen up, I ain’t got no time to muck about. You gonna tell me what you’re after or not?” Is there a hint of amusement there? Assire doesn’t like being laughed at, but it’s still better than having someone, even if it’s a total stranger on the phone, angry with her. Her hands are shaking, her heart is beating quickly in her chest. I can do this. “I’m calling because of the room.”  

It’s a seedy part of town. Dark and damp and crowded and somehow menacing. Dirty streets, dirty windows, dirty houses. Graffiti scrawl, broken bus stop benches, debris collecting in the gutters. A couple of men sitting outside a derelict house drinking cheap beer and smoking cigarettes. Assire feels their eyes on her, speeds up her steps.  “Wanna make some pocket money, sweetheart?”, one of them hollers, and Assire feels a little bit sick. “Please don’t”, she whispers under her breath as she clutches the straps of her backpack more tightly. She doesn’t like to be seen, especially not like this. 

The sidewalk is still slick with this morning’s rain. Water seeps into her shoes through the cracks in the worn rubber soles. Her feet are cold and damp. Horrid. She needs new ones, badly. If only she could afford them. There’s a pair she loves in the window of a shop she passes on her way to school every morning. They are yellow, bright, shining yellow, with little patent leather bows across the toes and the most delicate, most elegant little heels. They cost more money than Assire would ever dare to dream of having, let alone spending, and they are terribly impractical. But she adores them nonetheless. One day, she tells herself, one day I will be able to get as many shoes as I want. I’ll have a whole wardrobe full of them. My feet will never get wet again.  A good thought.  She can do this. 

The building is old, peeling plaster and faded glory, with big windows, most of them either haphazardly curtained or blind with dust. It looms above the street corner like a silent sentinel. It might have been glorious, once - but whatever allure it once held has long dissipated, like a dream in the pale morning light. The door is dark green, the paint peeling, the heavy handles shiny with use. A man stands outside, leaning up against the wall, his face indiscernible beneath the shadows of his cap, his coat collar pulled up against the cold and damp, slowly smoking a cigarette. Assire raises her hand, gives a little wave, forces a smile. She doesn’t know what else to do. At least she’s on time. That’s something, at least. The man looks up, pushes back his cap. His eyes are small, placed a little too close together in his jowly face. He looks like a man who has seen things. Assire wraps her arms around her body, bites down on her bottom lip. “What do you want, girl? Nothin’ to see here.” “No, I’m… I called, yesterday. For the room.” “You? You’re a bit young, chicken. I don’t rent to kids. Although I might as well given how some of the people here behave.” He spits on the ground, and Assire barely suppresses a shudder. “I’m almost seventeen.” “Almost seventeen, eh? Still too young. Go home, girl. Back to mum and dad. They’re probably worried about you. Playing runaway ain’t what it’s cracked up to be.” “I’m not.” Assire’s voice is surprisingly forceful as she says it. Determined. Why do people always have to judge, make assumptions? She’s been on her own for months now. She can’t go back, and even if she could...she’d rather die. Life is hard, sure. Much harder than she could have anticipated. But it is her own. Out here, drifting in this big, dirty, damp old city, she and only she decides her fate.  Even if it ends badly. I want to live my life my way. Mine.  “You’re not what?”  There’s amusement in his voice, a twinkle in his eye. He hasn’t chased her off, yet. That is something, at least. Assire can’t quite work him out, but that doesn’t mean much - she can never quite work anyone out. She’s trying, though. She’s always trying. 

“I’m not playing. And I can’t go back.” “Proper little runaway then, eh? Sorry, girl, can’t have that kind of thing here. Probably got the cops looking for you. Unless your folks don’t want you home. But you don’t look like that type.”  “Please.”  Assire starts to rummage through her backpack, quickly, anxiously. She pulls out a folder of documents, holds it out to him with trembling hands.  “Everything is in order. I have...papers. To say so. To prove that… I can be on my own.”  I exist. I have papers to prove I exist. To say I’m real. 

She has never had papers before. Now she has too many of them. Letters and statements and declarations, all stamped and signed and terribly official. Unsupported Youth, not a Runaway. There’s a difference. The man - Ern - takes the folder out of her hands, flicks through them briefly. “So you do. So you are. Bit early, to be out on your own at sixteen. Sad.” “Seventeen”, Assire corrects him. “Well, almost. And it’s not sad. It’s not anything. It just is.” “Accommodation supplement payment, I see. No job, I suppose. Probably not going to school, either.” “No, that’s not true. I do both.” There’s pride in her voice as she says it. Those two things, going to school, to a proper school, with proper science and a library full of books, and her part time job are her biggest achievements to date. Neither are easy, but she is managing. Assire is getting by, all on her own. No matter how tired she gets, no matter how little she has to show for it all. One step at a time. 

“Do you, now? An enterprising little runaway, then. Listen, you're not doing anything illegal, are you? I mean, not like I can stop you, but just… don’t make it harder than it already is, yeah? Think about the future, stay on the straight and narrow. You’ll thank yourself for it, one day. Trust me. There you go, bit of free life advice from old Ern, how about that. Now, let’s show you the room, eh?” 

 It isn’t much, but sometimes it doesn’t have to be. Sometimes, not much is better than nothing, and that is enough. Even if it’s dingy and has the musty smell of having been closed up for too long. Even if there’s mold blooming in the corners of the ceiling. Even if there are cracks running down the windowpane. Even if there’s barely enough room to turn around, between the narrow bed and the rickety desk and the wire frame clothes rack. 

“It ain’t no mansion, but it’s not too damp and all the light switches work. Shared bathrooms down the hall, shared kitchen downstairs. Parking can be a bit of a problem but you don’t have a car, do you now, little runaway?” Assire shakes her head. Her eyes are bright, even here, in this tiny, dark, desolate space. Full of possibilities. This isn’t where her story ends, that much she knows. No. This is where it starts. 

“Don’t get me wrong, this place can get a bit...rough. Some of the other tenants - not the kind of people I’d want sharing a house with my daughter, if I had one. But if you keep your head down and stay quiet and keep that door locked nice and tight, you won’t have a problem. And if you do, well, give me a call. I’ll sort it out. So, what do you reckon? Good enough for you?” Assire nods enthusiastically, covers her mouth with her hands, hiding a smile that is slowly growing wider. 

I did it! I really did it! A room all to myself, I can get out of that awful emergency accommodation finally. My own room! Assire, all of almost seventeen years old, has never had her own room before.  “More than good enough. Thank you. Oh, Thank You.” “Nevermind, girl. Someone gotta watch out for little runaways like you. Might as well be old Ern here, eh?”  “Thank you. So much.” 

Assire steps towards the window. Halting, hesitant, tentative. Something inside of her shifts, falls into place. Outside, it has begun to rain. Inside, it’s starting to feel like home.