The Dream House
With limited resources, I had to produce the best possible result — which was why I had already spent hours poring over real estate listings online, tapping away at a calculator.
The funds available to me amounted to little more than the $1,400 that had been tied up as my security deposit, plus three months' rent — $3,500 in total.
Until I returned to work in March and started drawing a salary again, my only fixed income was Luca's childcare subsidy. And the superintendent job currently covering my living expenses would vanish the moment I left this apartment.
My income was monotonous; my expenses, anything but.
In this neighborhood, this apartment was about as livable as it got — which meant vacancies were practically nonexistent. Everyone here was in more or less the same financial boat, and once someone moved in, they didn't leave unless something forced them out.
"…'Couldn't leave' is probably the more accurate way to put it."
Myself included. We were people who lived month to month, even if we weren't quite living day to day.
Still, just in case, I decided to call Anastasia, the office worker whose doorknob I had fixed not long ago.
"Hello, Anastasia? This is Jun — I fixed the office doorknob a while back. Yes, yes… Ah, the reason I'm calling is, are there any vacant units in the complex? My landlord suddenly told me I have to leave, so I need somewhere to move."
"Sounds like you're in a tough spot."
Along with her words came the clatter of a keyboard. A moment later, Anastasia spoke again, her voice apologetic.
"I'm afraid there aren't any vacancies in our complex right now. The next lease openings aren't for a few months…"
"…Ah, I see. Well, thank you for checking."
"Oh — but my relative who lives in Old Town is looking for a tenant in a hurry. Interested at all?"
"Isn't the rent in Old Town a lot higher than here?"
If the rent is too high, my salary alone won't even get me past the application…
"Well, yes. But they're a bit desperate right now… I'll give you the contact info either way — look into it later if you want."
I thanked her and hung up.
Setting down my pencil, I buried my face in both hands.
"Where the hell am I supposed to go?"
There was nothing comparable in this neighborhood, and pushing farther out to the suburbs wasn't realistic either. Heading into the city, on the other hand…
Of course I wanted to go toward the city. Desperately. Truth be told, I had wanted to move from the day I first brought my child into this place. But this had been the best I could afford, so we had stayed.
If I had to move anyway, I wanted out of this neighborhood. I wanted somewhere a little brighter, a little more alive. Somewhere Luca could meet kids his age at the playground once he got a little bigger. Good schools. Close to the office…
But living near both a good school and the company meant moving closer to downtown. Rent for a one-bedroom apartment of this size in the city center ran at least $1,300 a month. Security deposits were typically two months' rent, so getting through the door alone would cost a minimum of $2,600.
If I found somewhere now, I would have barely $900 left — and I would be in the red starting the very next month.
There was also the option of putting Luca in daycare and going straight back to work.
"Hoo…"
That would bring my fixed monthly income, including Luca's subsidy, to $2,300. After rent, I would have $1,000 left for groceries, transportation, phone bills, diapers…
"…If I really tighten the belt, maybe."
It would be tight, but possible. One unexpected expense, though, and I would tip into the negative. Of course, the Manito App and its point system were already helping me stretch the household budget further than I otherwise could, so things were a little better than they looked on paper.
Paying twice my current rent would never have been an option I even considered before — but somehow, it felt like it might just work out.
I opened the real estate app again.
Today was the day I was supposed to tour places with a real estate agent.
With a downtown budget of $1,250 to $1,400, the options turned out to be even scarcer than I had expected — but I had scoured every online listing like a man possessed and managed to narrow it down to three candidates.
Seeing them in person, however, was a different story. I did my best to be diplomatic.
"…The photos and the real thing feel pretty different, don't they?"
Nearly two hours had already gone into viewing just two places. At one of them we had waited forever for a tenant who never answered the phone; midway through, the baby had suddenly started crying and needed soothing; then a diaper change had eaten up even more time.
After all that hassle, neither place appealed to me. One was far dirtier and more run-down than the photos had suggested. The other was equally filthy, and the soundproofing was nonexistent. Both needed actual renovation work — well beyond what a thorough cleaning could fix.
If it had been just me, maybe. But I was not putting Luca to sleep in a moldy room.
"Well, the next place won't be all that different from what you've already seen. With a limited price range…"
The agent trailed off, shot me a sidelong glance, then added:
"Would you consider stretching the budget a little? There's a place in Old Town listed well below market. Just a few hundred more a month."
"Ah…"
"Just a few hundred more." I'm already pushing it hard just looking at these.
"If you put in about what that cardigan of yours costs every month, you could find a much cozier space. Downtown prices jump hard the second you add even one more room — but Old Town doesn't work that way."
Ah. So that's it. This cardigan must be from an expensive brand.
I had liked the style online, looked it up, and made one myself. I couldn't even remember the label. No wonder he had looked me up and down the moment we met.
Wait. Is that why he never once showed irritation when the baby cried or needed a diaper change?
I had taken him for a patient soul. More likely, he had mistaken me for a young dad with money to spare. Being misread as affluent was a hundred times better than being looked down on for my clothes — but it still left a faintly bitter taste.
Either way, if the next place was no different from the last two, it would just be a waste of time. And since I might end up looking outside the city after all, I decided to at least see the house.
"Uuung…!"
Luca twisted uncomfortably in the stroller.
"There, there, baby. It's okay, it's okay…"
It hurt to see him so worn out. Exhaustion was settling over me, too. I had never expected to find a place in a single day, but the thought of hauling a toddler around like this for days made my head throb. And yet… what if this next one was another dead end?
Figuring I had nothing to lose, I pulled up the address Anastasia had given me and showed it to the agent.
"Is that place by any chance this one?"
"Oh — yes, it is. The owner is looking for a tenant in a hurry. How did you know about it?"
We reached Old Town in no time, riding in the agent's van.
Old Town had once been the heart of the city, true to its name. These days it was a quiet, clean residential district close to downtown, home to people of relatively comfortable means. The streets were wider than present-day Downtown, the sidewalks broader. Between the sidewalks and the road stood the grand old trees that earned the neighborhood its name, dense and tall.
The whole area breathed a kind of ease. Whether the word quite fit, I wasn't sure — but compared to Downtown, thrown up in a hurry, Old Town had a certain dignity.
"It's like another world…"
I muttered without meaning to.
Almost nothing rose above five stories, so the sky opened wide above us. A large cathedral stood not far off. The houses themselves were generously proportioned, nothing like where I lived now. Units weren't crammed together wall to wall, and even the multi-family villas seemed to hold only a handful of households each.
"The older buildings all have character, don't they? And the residents tend to stay put for years, so the neighborhood is very safe. Downtown places turn over tenants constantly — more of a waystation than a real home."
The agent kept up a bright stream of commentary.
"In a few years the little one will be ready for preschool. See that big cathedral? There's a preschool attached to it."
"I see."
"Most kids around here go to that preschool, then the elementary school across the street, then the middle and high school one block further. They're well regarded."
Of course the school district was good. It would have been a lie to say I wasn't tempted…
I still hadn't asked about the rent, and the agent seemed content to show me the place first, keeping the price to himself for now.
The van gradually slowed.
"We're here! Isn't the neighborhood atmosphere wonderful?"
I carefully lifted the stroller down from the van and looked up and down the street. Christmas decorations still hung everywhere. Every tree was strung with soft yellow lights. Even in the cold of winter, the afternoon sun pouring over the street made it feel impossibly warm. When I tipped my head back, the wide-open sky seemed to clear something out of my chest.
"Yes. It's really lovely."
I said it without reservation. Looking pleased, the agent led us into the villa.
Finished in a stucco style, the building held only three units in total, including the one we were about to see. Pushing open the thick glass door, the first thing that caught the eye was a beautiful staircase rising from the center and branching left and right. To the right of the entrance sat a management office and an elevator; to the left, a small antique-feeling coffee shop.
"Residents get twenty percent off at the coffee shop! Perfect for a quick breakfast before work."
Two units on the second floor, one on the third. Ours was the third-floor unit.
"Because of the building's design, the third floor is a bit smaller than the second-floor units — but being the only one up there is a real advantage. And the terrace is generous."
The first thought that struck me the moment I stepped off the elevator was simply: bright. Sunlight poured in through a round window at the end of the short hallway. Looking down, I saw a mosaic floor in quiet tones that seemed to hold the light and glow with warmth.
"You can use the elevator, of course, but I think going up and down these stairs would be wonderful, too."
The agent gestured toward the staircase beside the elevator. Unlike a typical apartment building, the way to the stairs wasn't sealed off behind a door — it felt as though we had simply climbed to the third floor of a large house.
"Shall we go in, then?"
Click.
The first thing that filled my vision was the wide terrace beyond a tall, generous window streaming with sunlight. The kitchen, dining area, and living room ran in a single open line that connected straight to the terrace, giving the whole space a sense of airiness. There was a master bedroom with an en-suite bath, a second bedroom, and another bathroom off the living room that had a bathtub.
"This is a rare listing. The owner lived here, then had to take a long-term business assignment overseas and suddenly needed a tenant."
"I see."
I answered as if in a daze, and the agent seized the moment.
"Seventeen hundred fifty a month, utilities included. That's an extremely good price for this neighborhood."
Moving into a place that cost $1,750 a month when my salary was $1,800 was pure insanity. The people who lived here earned at least twice what I did. Just putting down the $3,500 security deposit would mean pouring in every last cent I had.
"…"
I could simply turn around and leave. But walking away felt like waking from a dream and being forced back into reality — my feet refused to move.
Watching my reaction, the agent delivered the finishing blow.
"The owner wants a tenant in place before they leave the country, so if you sign a one-year lease, I believe the first month's rent can be waived."
It was an irresistibly appealing offer. But…
"Well, the thing is, on paper my monthly income is…"
The agent only smiled — the smile of someone determined to close the deal — and picked up his phone.
"If the income on paper is the issue, what you're saying is that you actually do have the means, correct?"
"Ah… yes. For now, at least."
Probably. It feels like it could work out somehow…
"This owner wants a trustworthy tenant above all else. The person who referred you is the owner's relative, correct? If you can get through the paperwork, would you be willing to sign for this place?"
I answered as if spellbound.
"Yes. If it's possible… I'd like to live here."