On Dublin Street(7)

I wasn’t really the judging kind. “It’s your life, Ellie. You’ve been blessed financially. That doesn’t make you a terrible person.” I had a therapist in high school. I could hear her nasally voice in my head, ‘Now why can’t you apply the same thought process to yourself, Joss. Accepting your inheritance doesn’t make you a terrible person. It’s what your parents wanted for you.’


From the ages of fourteen to eighteen, I’d lived with two foster families in my hometown in Virginia. Neither families had a lot of money and I’d gone from a big, fancy house and expensive food and clothes, to eating a lot of SpaghettiO’s and sharing clothes with a younger foster ‘sister’ who happened to be the same height. With the approach of my eighteenth year, and the public knowledge that I would be receiving a substantial inheritance, I’d been approached by a number of business people in our town looking for investment and to take advantage of what they assumed was a na?ve kid, as well as a classmate who wanted me to invest in his website. I guess living how the ‘other half’ lived during my formative years and then being sucked up to by fake people more interested in my deep pockets than in me were two of the reasons I was reluctant to touch the money I had.


Sitting there with Ellie, someone in a similar financial situation and dealing with guilt (although a different kind), made me feel a surprising connection to her.


“The room is yours,” Ellie suddenly announced.


Her abrupt bubbliness brought laughter to my lips. “Just like that?”


Seeming serious all of a sudden, Ellie nodded. “I have a good feeling about you.”


I have a good feeling about you, too. I gave her a relieved smile. “Then I’d love to move in.”


~2~


A week later I’d moved into the luxury apartment on Dublin Street.


Unlike Ellie and her clutter, I liked everything to be organized around me just so, and that meant immediately diving into unpacking.


“Are you sure you don’t want to sit and have a cup of tea with me?” Ellie asked from the doorway as I stood in my room surrounded by boxes and a couple of suitcases.


“I really want to get this all unpacked so I can just relax.” I smiled reassuringly so she wouldn’t think I was blowing her off. I always hated this part of a burgeoning friendship–the exhausting hedging of one another’s personality, trying to work out how a person would react to a certain tone, or attitude.


Ellie just nodded her understanding. “Okay. Well, I’ve got to tutor in an hour, so I think I’ll walk instead of grabbing a cab, which means heading off now. That’ll give you some space, some time to get to know the place.”


I’m liking you more already. “Have a fun class.”


“Have fun unpacking.”


I grunted and waved her away as she flashed me a pretty smile and headed out.


As soon as the front door slammed shut, I flopped down on my incredibly comfortable new bed. “Welcome to Dublin Street,” I murmured, staring up at the ceiling.


Kings of Leon sang ‘your sex is on fire’ really loudly at me. I grumbled at the fact that my solitude was being so quickly intruded upon. With a tilt of my hip, I slipped my phone out of my pocket and smiled at the caller I.D.


“Hey you,” I answered warmly.


“So have you moved into your exorbitantly, overindulgent, pretentious new flat yet?” Rhian asked without preamble.


“Is that bitter envy I hear?”


“You’ve got that right, you lucky cow. I was almost ill in my cereal this morning at the pictures you sent me. Is that place for real?”


“I take it the apartment in London isn’t living up to your expectations?”


“Expectations? I’m paying through the nose for a bloody glorified cardboard box!”


I snorted.


“Fuck off,” Rhian grumbled half-heartedly. “I miss you and our mice-riddled palace.”


“I miss you and our mice-riddled palace, too.”


“Are you saying that as you stare at your claw-footed bath tub with its gold-plated taps?”


“Nope… as I lie on my five thousand dollar bed.”


“What’s that in pounds?”


“I don’t know. Three thousand?”


“Jesus, you’re sleeping on six week’s rent.”


Groaning, I sat up to pull open the nearest box. “I wish I hadn’t told you how much my rent is.”


“Well, I’d give you a lecture on how you’re pissing that money of yours away on rent when you could have bought a house, but who am I to talk?”


“Yeah, and I don’t need any lectures. That’s the sweetest part of being an orphan. No concerned lectures.”


I don’t know why I said that.


There was no sweet part to being an orphan.


Or having no one be concerned.


Rhian was silent on the other end of the line. We never talked about my parents or hers. It was our no-go area. “Anyway,” I cleared my throat, “I better get back to unpacking.”