My One Night Alone with The Boss

I woke up with a terrible headache, with tears in my eyes. I knew crying wouldn't help me right now in this situation. I had to face the cruel reality of my dire circumstances that I had been left alone in New York City. I didn't know anyone here and was embarrassed to call home and ask for help. But I barely had enough money to pay another month's rent. My body, mind, and heart were painfully exhausted, but I had to force myself to think. Repeating over and over, I wasn't going to cry.

Instead, I climbed out of bed. My throat felt painfully dry. I went to the refrigerator, and staring back at me were one bottle of water and half a carton of eggs. I opened the cabinet, and they were empty except for dry seasoning. All I had now was a half-empty apartment that would keep me off the streets for the next month. But nothing else, no electricity, no food, no money, and no job. Shaking away the tears, I asked myself how I got into this situation.

I went into the bathroom and took a hot shower. A few minutes later, I patted myself dry, wrapping the towel around my aching body. Then, I began combing the fingers of both hands through tangled hair. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes and holding back the burning tears behind my eyelids. I brushed my hair several times to remove the evil thoughts from my mind. I eventually secured my hair at the crown with several large pins.

My eyes finally made a connection with the mirror over the bathroom sink. It had been days since I looked at myself. I had been too ashamed and hurt. I noted the swelling and dark rings that had developed around my eyes. I thought about how people always made remarks about my looks. I'm sure they would notice the

slightest puffiness under my eyes. My first instinct was to open my makeup bag. To cover my shame and pain. Shaking away the tears, I thought about what had happened. But I still couldn't believe it. I had been so naive and gullible.

A few weeks earlier:

I took a deep breath before turning the doorknob to the apartment manager's office.

'Please let this work,' I uttered as I opened the door and entered the office.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am... My name is Sinclair Martin. I'm Mr. Johnson's roommate from apartment C."

The lady looks me up and down suspiciously. I stood there trying to look pleasant. I planted a smile on my face because I didn't want to remove my sunglasses. I couldn't let her see I was on the verge of falling apart and had been crying for days.

"Yes, he told me about you. You're the young lady from Florida. How have you been enjoying your stay here in New York?"

"It's been nice; I love New York. It's very different from Florida. I'm considering making New York my home. I'm on the verge of getting hired at a very elite company in Manhattan, VW International Inc."

She was immediately impressed. But I couldn't reveal to the apartment manager that I had only sent a resume to that company and had yet to hear from them. So, I stretched the truth a tad. But it was all part of my scheme to keep a roof over my head. I refuse to go back home a failure. So, I had to learn how to start looking out for myself.

"Wow! That's great! Only a few women get that opportunity to work at a company like VW. But, of course, they've been around a long time. I heard they were from overseas, had opened a new office, and planned to open some stores here in New York. But congratulations to you, so how can I help you?"

"Thank you." I clear my throat. "I know Mr. Johnson has a lease on this apartment in his name, and I don't know if he's made you aware of it yet, but he doesn't have intentions of renewing it."

"No, I have yet to hear a word from him. It's in the lease agreement; he must let me know at least two weeks in advance. You know, so I can get things ready for the next tenant."

"Oh really! He hasn't mentioned it at all to you. Well, I know he's planning on moving in a few more days, and he mentioned to me just today that he wasn't interested in renewing his lease. So, I was wondering, since I love this place so much, if, Ma'am, you would be interested in renting the apartment to me."

"Well, Miss, I still need to hear from him that he intends not to renew the lease agreement and is moving out. So, I can't just rent the apartment to you without his verification."

"Hmmm. Is a note or letter enough verification? And you can compare the writing to the lease agreement's signature."

"I guess that would be sufficient, and if need be, I can call him."

"Look, I have this note from today. Confirming that the current tenant plans on leaving as soon as tomorrow."

I showed the Landlord the note he had left me. Then I proceed to persuade the Landlord further, saying.

"Ma'am, if you just call him, I'm sure he'll confirm this note and his intentions regarding moving."

The Landlord pulls up his lease agreement and gives him a reluctant call. I smiled reassuringly at the lady. So, the Landlord decides to call him to confirm the note, especially with a potential tenant standing right before her. I pulled out a wat of cash! $2000.00 I held in my hand, counting it before the Landlord's face. I knew she wanted to rent the apartment.

"Yes, Mr. Johnson, this is your Landlord. Do you have plans to renew your lease? It's about to expire in two days?"

"Uhm...no, ma'am. I was going to contact you tomorrow morning to inform you that my roommate and I will be moving out and that I would pay the late penalty."

"Okay,

I'm glad I called. But, unfortunately, there is a late deposit penalty for not giving me two weeks' notice.

"How much is the penalty, ma'am?"

"Thirty percent of the deposit amount."

"That much! Alright, okay, alright..."

"Have a good day, sir, and I will deposit the remaining balance into your account."

I stood there, trying to contain my tears of hot anger even more. 'That dirty dog had the nerve to answer the phone for a landlord and not me!' I was so angry as I stood there as my fist began to ball up. But I had to remain calm.

The Landlord asked, hanging up the phone. "So, ma'am, are you interested in renting the place? He said that both of you would be moving out."

"Yes, ma'am, I want to rent the place. I'm not moving. I have my first month's rent, and can I pay in advance and sign the new lease, too? Correct?"

"Yes, sure. But the new lease doesn't go into effect until tomorrow."

"That's fine...Thank you, Ma'am."

I got the new lease and asked for a copy. Then I went back upstairs with thoughts of doing all sorts of things I had never thought of ever doing before. So, I quickly changed into one of my jogging suits and tennis shoes.

There was no time to waste. The clock was ticking, and I knew he would be home soon after receiving that phone call from the Landlord. But what I was about to do next was shocking even to me!

After getting dressed into something more comfortable, I jumped to my feet and quickly wiped away the dampness from my lashes. Then, I walked through the dark apartment void of electricity.

How could someone be so heartless and do this to another human being? What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment? Had I been too nice? Was I too forgiving? Was I not pretty enough? Was I so in love that I forgot about my well-being? Maybe I had, and l was taken for granted. But you can push a person only so far before they break! I can't let myself be pushed around anymore!" So why am I sitting around taking this lack of love and awful treatment as if I couldn't do better for myself? I'm smart, and I know love doesn't feel like this. So why am I subjecting myself to this kind of constant pain? Fool me once. Shame on you. Fool me twice. Shame on me! And I'm not nobody's, fool!"

I told myself as I went into the kitchen pantry. I pulled out several large trash bags. Then, I marched back into the bedroom.

Teeth clenched, battling tears and anger, I looked at his clothes and snatched them off the hangers, shirts, name-brand jeans, jackets, ties, whatever my hands could grab. I threw an armload of shirts, suits, jeans, underwear, and t-shirts. Jamming the material into the large trash bags I had gotten from the kitchen pantry.

Uncaring of wrinkles and the cost of the clothes, I added more, pushing the material from the tops of the bags, stuffing them without even bothering to close them. The large bags I struggled to drag the to the front door. Finally, I opened the door and tossed them out into the hallway.

I dragged out furniture and all his appliances, the toaster, blender, and coffee maker, and put them out the front door. Then I dragged the mattress off the bed: all its covers, two chairs, and a lamp. I was shoving all out the Front door into the hallway. Clothes and shoes, deodorant and underwear, CD players and speakers were in trash bags, and any other items I could find that belonged to him! I tossed them out of the apartment into the hallway.

Then picked up my cell and called a company called Best Locksmith.

"Please, it's an emergency! But, Sir, can you come sooner than an hour?"

"Uhm, it's already after ten at night. I'm the only one on this route. I have two more stops ahead of you."

"Look! I'll pay you $50.00 extra if you come to me. First, this is urgent. Please."

"Alright, I'll be there in 20 to 25 minutes."

"Thank you, thank you."

I looked at the clock, realizing I didn't have much time to drag the rest of the things out of the apartment and simultaneously push his favorite chair out the door. I could not believe who had opened their door: Ms. Kate, the nosy neighbor in the building.

I know she thought I was crazy, mumbling to myself. "What are you staring at? Please go into your apartment and mind your business."

Ms. Kate couldn't just ignore the disaster out in the hallway. "Sugar, is everything alright?"

"Yes, ma'am, everything is fine. Just doing some extensive cleaning."

I smile, closing the door and standing in front of it.

"Yes, ma'am, I understand. All these items will be gone by morning."

"You must be getting a lot of new furniture?"

"Yes, I'm giving a lot of this to the VA charity."

"Okay, you take care, Ms. Martin."

"You to Ms. Kate."

I quickly closed the door behind me and waited. I sat on the sofa, biting my fingernail and looking at the clock. I even paid extra for the Locksmith to come sooner, and 20 minutes couldn't come fast enough.

When the locksmith gentleman showed up and stepped over all the stuff, he saw clothes and shoes spilling out of the bag in the hallway.

"Wow! What happened here," he asked himself as he hesitantly knocked on the door.

At the sound of the knock on my door, I hurried to my feet, wiping away a run-way tear. I couldn't bear anyone seeing the tears, fears, or hurt I felt.

"Who is it?" I asked cautiously, with my nerves on edge because I had never done anything like this before.

"Henry, from Best Locksmith, ma'am." He replied.

When I opened the door, I said, "Good evening, Sir. Thank God you're here. It's this lock and this one I want to change."

The man put his toolbox down. His eyes swept over the dark empty room. He could see I was out of sorts and a bit jittery.

"How long is this going to take, Sir?" I asked him nervously.

"Not very long, about ten minutes for each door."

"Mr. Henry, could you get this done a little faster? Please."

"I'll try." All kinds of thoughts ran through the man's mind. What if some man shows up and does something wild like starts shooting? It is New York, and I don't live in the best area. I paced back and forward-looking out the window several times.

The locksmith man finished in precisely twenty minutes. "I'm done, ma'am."

I jumped a little as he spoke, getting my attention. "Oh, okay. How much?"

"$250.00, ma'am."

I handed him the money; I knew he could tell how my hands were trembling that something was wrong.

"Are you going to be okay, Miss?" Henry decided to ask, hoping I would say yes.

"Yes, thank you. I'll be okay."

"Here are your keys. Have a good evening, Ma'am. Stay safe."

I close the door quickly. I ran to the kitchen drawer and grabbed a piece of white paper off the table. Finally, I take a black Sharpie, write a stinging message in large letters, and put it on the front door. Now all I could do was wait, so I lay on the sofa, exhausted. My eyes couldn't stay open. The next time I woke up, it was a loud banging noise at the front door. I grabbed the only heavy object I had found earlier in the kitchen that I had laid by the sofa as I slept. I grabbed the hammer and looked at the time.

I sighed in relief as I prepared and waited for this moment. It was the moment that would end my turmoil. I walked into the living room, ready to dial 911. Instead, I was startled by another loud bang! So loud I thought the door might come crashing in! Out of fear, I dropped the phone.

My heart was racing. Gripping the hammer as I collected my nerves, ready to swing!

When his key wouldn't open the new locks, he said. "Come on, Sinclair opens the door; we must discuss this. He said in a calm voice.

But I remained quiet. I felled so many times for the smoothness of his voice. So I kept telling myself not to fall for it. His true nature will show soon enough.

"I know you can hear me. This is embarrassing, and all the neighbors are staring at me. You're always getting emotional and overreacting! Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. But, But, Sinclair, open the door! Why are you being so vindictive? Why did you change the locks? Open the door so we can fix the problem!"

I refused to open the door. He started banging on the door and jerking the doorknob again like a madman. But a few minutes later, the knocking stopped! I was so relieved things didn't escalate further than they already had. I didn't want to call the police, which would have attracted more attention to the apartment. Instead, I walked over to the window to see if he was truly gone.

I watched from the window my ex loading everything in his sports car. Admittedly, it felt good, for once, to see him struggling to put that mattress on top of his hot, smoking red sports car that he loved so much. Then, when he couldn't fit into that small trunk, he pushed all that stuff into the back seat of his car.

He looks up at the window and shouts.

"This is not over! No one double-crosses me and gets away with it!" Then he got in his car and drove away. Was I worried by his words? Yes, a little, but I was far more relieved than anything else that he was gone from my life! It was over.

I never knew I was this strong and determined. I was proud of the strength and fortitude it took to stand up for myself. But now the question was could I continue to stand up on my own two feet?

I had practically taken all the last of my saving and paid to keep a roof over my head for this month. But where will I get that kind of money again in the next 30 days? Plopping down on the sofa, I realized I only had 30 days to come up with another $2,500 for rent, plus get the electricity and gas turned on that he had turned off.

I needed to keep my only connection to the outside world by paying my cell phone bill. I had very little food in the refrigerator, a doggie bag of uneaten lunch from a few days ago. A half a carton of eggs and enough milk to eat two bowls of cereal, maybe three if I ate tiny portions.

Then I remembered the back of the closet. I had a stash of cash-a small jar filled with nickels and a few quarters. Whenever I had coins, I would dump them in a pot. So I entered the closet, opened the jar, poured the cash of currencies on the bed, and started counting. Maybe I could go to the store and get a few more things to sustain me this month. After calculating the cash, it amounted to $15.15.

It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. I dressed to go to the store and purchase some cold cuts and a loaf of bread. It was cold outside, and the store was about a mile from my place. It would be a nice walk in the spring or maybe summertime, but not in the winter. So, the quickest and warmest way is to catch the bus to and from the store. I had never ridden a public service bus before in New York.

Checking the bus schedule, I headed downstairs with only five minutes to wait for the bus, a block and a half from the apartment building where I lived. The bus stopped before me, and the door slid open.

I walked up to the driver, hoping he would pity me.

"Good afternoon...um..." I glanced at his name tag, trying to sound friendly. "Hi Troy, how much is the bus fare? I'm new to New York."

The driver coldly pointed to the sign. "Oh, $2.75 one way and $5.50 round trip," I said verbally.

I sighed heavily, whispering to the driver, smiling, and holding my hand. "I only can afford $2.75."

The driver tilted his head and looked down at my hand. Then, in a harsh tone, he said.

"Lady, that'll get you a ride one way."

I was stunned at his harsh callous remark. It was so embarrassing as the line of people behind me groaned impatiently. I didn't know what to say or do. But I know bread, cold-cut meat, and a few packs of ramen noodles will sustain me for the next 30 days.

"Move it, lady! It's cold out here!" A man behind me shouted.

"Can you hurry and pay the fair? My child is cold!" A lady with a crying baby screamed at me.

I was forced to pay one way, realizing I would be walking back home, about 15 blocks from the store, in 30-degree weather. All this made me despise my ex even more for what he did to me. Instead, I quickly searched for an empty seat on a crowded bus with all eyes on me. Embarrassed and frightened, I held my head down to avoid people staring at me. I sat, wanting to cry, but I held in my tears and humiliation.

With the few things I could afford to purchase, I pulled the coat collar around my neck and began the long walk back home; it was getting dark, and the catcalls from the group of guys on the corner made me nervous. It was the first time I had experienced something like this. It wasn't very comforting. Hence, I walked as fast as my legs could, clutching the grocery bag with a small loaf of bread and cold cuts for dear life. I was shivering to the bone as the cold air cut through my thin coat and made my body numb.

As the sun disappeared, the temperature seemed to get much colder. I finally made it inside the apartment building. I hit the switch, and nothing happened. I had no lights, meaning I had no heat.

Anyone who has ever struggled with poverty knows how costly it is to be poor. I sat at the table, wishing I was home in sunny Florida with my family. I didn't realize what poverty felt like until I hit rock bottom, and the thought of me almost being homeless made tears form in the creases of my eyes.

I didn't know what it meant to be destitute, cold, and lonely. I always had friends and family who had my back if needed. But I was just too embarrassed to tell anyone how awful things were going for me here in New York. I certainly didn't want to hear from my family. We told you so. I was exhausted by the past few days' events and the entire week. I kept wondering what I did so wrong for things to be this horrible.

What I had done was trust! Now I'm in dire straits with only thirty days to turn it around. I felt weak in my mind, heart, soul, and body. I wondered, Can I turn things around? Was there a brighter side of life out there for me?