Just North of Whoville by Turiskylie, Joyce (free children's ebooks pdf .TXT) 📗

up my stuff and take it down to her place? She’s in 3A.”

“Okay. Sure.”

As I walked in my apartment the evening, I saw Heidi’s tail slide under the bed. Poor thing, between Alex and the roof repair she had to be a nervous wreck. She’d become Sasquatch Kitty----the only evidence of her existence being a foot print, a tuft of hair, and a blurry black and white photo.

But if nothing else, I was finally getting rid of an unwanted houseguest. I packed up a box and an old suitcase full of Alex’s things and began hauling them down to 3A. Just then, the door to 3C opened and out stepped Nate.

“Dorrie!” he said as he eyed the box and suitcase. “You’re moving out?”

“Well,” I said uncertainly as I looked down at Alex’s things, “sure looks that way.”

“Let me give you a hand with that,” he said as he grabbed the box. “I’ve got my car here, if you need a ride.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I’ll be fine.” For once I was happy I had a habit of first refusal. It was about the only honest thing I had going.

“You’re not taking a taxi, are you?”

“No. I’ve got a friend coming to get me. Me and my stuff.”

“Well, I think it’s going to be the beginning of a great new journey for you,” he smiled. “If you need something, let me know. I’ll be here for a bit. Some business…” he seemed to wonder whether to go any further. “Do you know the guy in 3C?”

“No. I don’t know anyone in the building.” Truer words had never been spoken. I had been extremely careful not to cultivate any sort of relationship with my fellow tenants. You never knew who was going to rat you out for a dishwasher or the permission to have a dog.

“Well, it turns out he was an illegal sublet. Three years. I’m in big trouble at work.”

“Wow. That stinks,” I said, as I saw the lids on the box of Alex’s things start to mysteriously pop open revealing his Facial Cream For Men.

“Yeah. Really stinks. My boss said I should have been paying more attention to the units. But it’s so hard. They’re hiding from you. What are you going to do? My uncle used to own the company. It was different then. It was a great job while I was writing. But last year, my uncle retired and sold the company to Herb---that’s my boss. The whole housing situation is different now. They’re serious about getting the old tenants out so they can go in there and gut these places and then quadruple the rent. I might lose my job over this.”

“Oh, I’m sure that won’t happen.”

“Well, according to Herb, I cost him forty thousand dollars. Plus the money he had to spend hiring a private detective.”

“They hired a detective?”

“Oh yeah. Pretty standard in Manhattan once you suspect something’s up.”

I immediately began to wonder what my dossier looked like.

11:06 a.m. Suspect enters building with a large bag of what appears to be cat litter. Unusual, as no cat appears to be on the premises.

My plan was to just sit on the front stoop “waiting for my friend” till Nate left, then I’d drag the stuff upstairs to Tanya in 3A, and then sneak back into my apartment---the “my” looking more and more precarious every minute.

As I sat outside shivering in the cold, my cell phone rang.

“Dorrie? It’s Timmy,” he said in a shaky voice like a four year-old who’d been crying. “I tried to call you and work, but you already left and…and…and…” he sniffled. “I’m sorry,” he started to bawl. “I feel so bad. That was a violation of your person!”

“You didn’t violate my person, Timmy. I’m fully intact,” I said as I saw Nate coming out of the building.

“You still here?” Nate asked as Timmy sobbed into the phone.

“I need to see you and apologize,” Timmy begged.

“Is that your friend?” Nate asked. “I can drop you off at home. Where do you live?”

I suddenly had an idea.

“You live in Coney Island?” Nate asked as we drove across the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Yeah. I guess I do. Sorry about that.”

As we drove all the way out to Coney Island with Alex’s belongings in the back seat, I just wanted to curl up and die. This super nice guy had taken the time out of his day to drive me all the way to Brooklyn. For what? Absolutely nothing. I felt horrible. And I felt even worse as we drove down the street and I tried to pretend that everything was absolutely familiar.

“Which building is it?”

“Hold on,” I said as I rummaged thru my bag pretending to look for something, all the while keeping an eye out for Timmy standing on the curb. About halfway down the block, I spotted Timmy waving frantically in the air.

“Right there,” I quickly pointed out.

“You mean the little guy with the big head?”

“Yeah, just pull up here.”

We got out and took the suitcase and box out of the back seat as Timmy looked on with concern.

“Hi, I’m Nate,” he introduced himself to Timmy who was clearly intimidated by this other man. “Are you Dorrie’s roommate?”

Timmy, clear on his instructions, looked to me for the answer.

“No. He lives down the hall. My friend Timmy.”

“Hey,” Nate shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, as well,” Timmy said lowering his voice a bit in an effort to appear buff. “I’ll take that, little lady,” he said as he grabbed the suitcase and then toppled under its weight.

“Well…” Nate seemed as confused about Timmy’s sexuality as I was, “are you okay from here?”

“Yeah, perfectly fine. Thank you so much for your help,” I said as I leaned in