RoboNomics

Chapter 43

I grasp the knotted top of the last trash bag and walk out to the curb with it. I drop it onto the sidewalk.

It’s a balmy Friday afternoon in June. It’s been two weeks since Elizabeth came to visit. Usually on a day like today, everyone on our street would be out in their backyards or on their front porches. The sounds of children playing and adults laughing would carry down the road. But not this year. This year, I only hear birdsong. The curbs are lined with foreclosure signs in bright red and white. Lilly, our next-door neighbor, has already left with her family. We kept waiting for the day the bank would take our house, too. And now that day is here.

When I enter our little wood-paneled front hall with its crooked shoe rack, Austin is standing in the long hallway that leads to the kitchen. “Here, take this.” He stuffs a roll of crisp plastic bank notes into my hand. “Keep it hidden.”

“Is this what I think it is?” I haven’t seen physical money for at least a decade.

“Yeah, that’s the last of it.”

We spent the entire morning packing up the last of our belongings. We had to figure out what we need to survive and what we can leave behind. We have to be gone by midnight, when the bank takes possession of the house and everything in it.

“You sure it’s safe with us?” I stare at the cash between my fingers. I hold it away from my body as though it’s toxic.

“Better than in the bank, I guess.”

“Don’t we owe it to someone?”

“Yeah. Which is why you should keep it safe.” He looks around the back hall and kneels to check the two stuffed backpacks. “Okay, well I think that’s it,” he says. I tuck the roll of bills into a side pocket on my backpack.

“Let’s go.” Austin hoists the larger of the two bags onto his shoulders.

We’ve been searching for apartments for weeks. So many landlords in the city want a credit check and proof of renters' insurance. But we fail the check every time. So now we have to find a place to sleep tonight.

I walk backwards up the street as I take a last look at our house. The hot midday sun falls on the gables. Austin turns around too. We stop and stare at the building that was, until this moment, our home. Then he sighs and walks away. I walk beside him, but I keep glancing over my shoulder. I’m unwilling to lose sight of it, even if it’s no longer ours.

We eventually turn the corner onto Bloor Street. “So where should we start?” I try to sound cheerful and to swallow the tears that threaten to fall. “We still have the whole afternoon.”

“Basements, I guess. And I think I know where.”

#

By the end of the day, we’ve visited several neighborhoods but none of them look like the one we lived in before. We see one basement apartment that is cool and spacious, but the walls are covered with graffiti with frat boy mottoes like “no fat chicks” and corresponding illustrative cartoons. Another one, east of downtown in Leslieville, has crumbling foundations. But it doesn’t matter that I find the living spaces distasteful. We can’t afford any of the apartments we saw today.

Austin doesn’t say much to me the entire afternoon but his face is like a threatening storm. When we finish looking for the day, it’s already after dark and the temperature is dropping. We have to get a cheap motel room for the night. We find a rugged little building down College Street, far west from our usual haunts.

The neighborhood has had its fair share of fashionable and derelict eras. Judging from the shops on either side of the motel that have boarded-up windows, this is not one of the good times. The motel’s sign says “College Street Motor Inn” in black letters on white glass. It juts out from the building in a triangle. Once inside, we stand on the stained carpet in front of the reception desk. A blue and white plastic bot sits in a cage behind the desk. It’s just a torso attached to a post.

“Three hundred and fifty a night?” Austin asks of the machine. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Cheapest rooms in town,” the bot says as a rubbery grin floats on its face.

“No doubt.” I give Austin a look as I remove our roll of cash from my backpack. We pay and head up the wide main staircase to the third floor.

“Over three hundred a night? I always figured this was the kind of place that charged by the hour,” I quip.

“Yeah, well, that was before. Now there are so many people who need a room, they can charge pretty much whatever they want,” Austin says.

“How many nights can we stay?”

“Enough to find an apartment.”

I stop on the stairs. “Austin, how much money do we have?”

“Let me worry about that. Besides, there’s not much we can do about it.” He continues his ascent. “Come on, I don’t want to talk to you about money here.”

It’s a noisy place. I hear shouts and sobs as we climb the stairwell. The walls must be thin enough for our conversation to carry as well.

We open the door to our room; it’s a dingy and under-lit box. The sour tinge of mildew floats in the air and the window looks out onto a brick wall. I sink down onto the bed and hope it doesn’t contain bedbugs. Austin takes off his backpack but stands at the foot of the bed.

“What is it?” I ask.

“We’ve never been in any place like this before, have we?”

“It’s not so bad. It’s just another hotel room. We’ve been in lots.”

His head drops nearly to his chest. “I’m so sorry, Andrea. You never signed up for this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This was never part of the deal, was it? When you married me, I bet you never thought I’d take you to a place like this.”

“Hey, Austin,” I go to the end of the bed on my knees and take his hand. “I didn’t marry you for what you could provide me with. I never loved you because you were a doctor, remember? This is me, the person who married you because she loves you.”

“I know. I’m just –“

“You’re just hurting in your pride area?” I say with a smile, trying to make him laugh.

“No. I’m just not sure how true that will be once the money runs out.”

“You’re not sure what’s true? You’re not sure that I’ll love you?” He doesn’t say anything in response. “Hey,” I wrap my arms around his thin, tall frame. “For richer or poorer, right?”

“Yeah. I guess so.” We stand, arms wrapped around each other in silence. His chin rests on my shoulder.

“Look.” He pulls away from my embrace. “It’s only seven o’clock. You want to get out of here for a while?”