In the meantime I lived with a lady named Madeline and her four kids her many roaches and mice, was left behind by my cousin Tati, was kicked out by Madeline and taken in by my cousin, who again left me first alone in a rat infested apartment and then kicked me out in earnest because it was, “her decision”.
At this point I was renting from a guy named Jay and his girlfriend Sandra. They never missed an opportunity to remind me that I was there by their good graces and I had to respect their rules to the letter, reasonable or not.
The last incident involved me being kicked out for being too loud on the phone on Christmas night. No, “Hey can you talk a little lower?” or “Or we can hear you in the next room” or even, “Hey, you’re being mad loud right now.” Nope. It was pack your bags, I don’t want you living here anymore.
You might wonder why by this time I didn’t just pack my things and drove right back to Hartford. The short answer is, there was nothing to go back to. I had left everything. Yes, my job at Nord- er, The Big Fancy was waiting for me, and I could’ve gotten my old apartment back (the landlord loved me) but then I would’ve been stepping back in time instead of going forward.
And going back would’ve been giving up all the good things that had happened too. Todd had invested a lot of time and money on helping me build a life here. I had made friends with the twins and got a job at Dance Manhattan. Also: baklava, all you can eat sushi, Kalustyan’s, Arthur ave. cannolis, Indian takeout and fresh homemade dal… I just couldn’t turn my back on all that.
Leaving simply wasn’t an option.
On the morning after Christmas I had an appointment to see The DJ to view his apartment. I knew that continuing to live with Jay was going to bring more problems. He had issues with boundaries, constantly roping me into long conversations when I was supposed to get ready for work and going into my room when I wasn’t around and without my permission.
To say that I had no privacy was an understatement, the cameras guaranteed that, but I had no rights. Every violation of privacy, every outburst was a reminder that I didn’t belong. That while my money was good and Jay needed to fill the rooms in order to make the rent, he didn’t particularly like having other people living there.
I wasn’t even allowed to get mail there and Sandra rarely communicated directly with me. The environment was tense for no reason and while I preferred to stay locked in my room anyways, it didn’t shield me from their crap.
I stepped out of my room that morning to get ready for work. Jay was already waiting for me. He was all apologies, but that wasn’t the significant part of the conversation. Apparently, Jay’s idea of apologizing was to stand in front of me in an untied bathrobe with no clothing on underneath. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Jay believed that the best way to show he was sorry was to offer me his cock.
It made it really difficult to have a serious conversation. At first, he did make some effort to at least cover his package, even though grabbing his dick through the cloth of his bathrobe and leaving everything else uncovered still drew the attention directly to his dick. I didn’t even peek. I talked about how his outburst was completely inappropriate and how he had embarrassed me in front of Ceasar.
But as the conversation continued he made less and less effort to cover himself, until he was standing in front of me in the kitchen giving me a full frontal. I stated up at the ceiling. I had absolutely no curiosity over his package and quite frankly the entire ploy was making me nauseous.
He mentioned that Sandra wanted to make it a rule that I should clean my room three times a week to their satisfaction.I laughed at his face and told him I wasn’t their child. My room was the only place in that apartment where I could retreat, and as long as I wasn’t inviting vermin in, they had no right to dictate how I decided to live in it, let alone set foot inside without my permission.
But Jay wasn’t listening. He was so focused on convincing me that he wasn’t paying attention that I’d made up my mind. It didn’t matter that he was all apologies. He was dead serious the night before when he kicked me out. It was only because I was making it clear that I wasn’t going to put up with that crap that he decided to backtrack.
He didn’t want me to leave. He wanted me to grovel.
After I was done trying to make it clear that I was leaving I went back to my room to get ready for work. Jay knocked on my door.
Can I eat your pussy?
No, thank you.
It’s just that I haven’t eaten pussy in so long, ma.
I’m not interested.
This girl man, she’s so uptight she won’t even let me go down on her.
Umm that’s too bad.
So can I go down on you?
(More begging, and then finally) I guess I’ll leave you alone then.
Once he was back in his room I got the hell out of there.
That night after work I met with The DJ at a Subway sandwich place near his apartment. We talked for a little bit and he showed me the building, first the terrace and then the gym, both selling points for me, and then the apartment.
The apartment was small and dark, the size of my bedroom in my mother’s basement. My room would really be a section of the room partitioned by curtains and foam. It didn’t look like an upgrade, In fact, it looked like rock bottom, but it was cheaper, it was walking distance from work, and I would be between 5th and Madison Avenue. Simply put, the apartment was shit, but the area was gorgeous beyond belief, and most importantly, The DJ seemed nice and he wasn’t “offering” to fuck me.
I didn’t have much else to lose at this point.
I agreed to move in and told Jay that night. He took it in stride and agreed that it would be cheaper for me. When he started mourning that I was leaving again, I reminded him that it had been him who kicked me out.
He cut me off with an, “I know, I know,” and asked me to at least keep his phone number in case I needed anything in the future.