Read Online The Saver by Edeet Ravel - Free Book Online

forever,
    Fern

Tuesday
    December 11
    Hi Xanoth,
    David called this afternoon. I was watching boring TV just to pass the time, and I jumped practically to the ceiling when the phone rang.
    He said I got the job, and could I come over tonight for instructions. I didn’t show how happy I was. I only asked when I should come, and he began muttering and mumbling and saying, “Hold on, hold on.” I guess he was checking his appointment book. Finally he said, “Is eleven too late? It’s just that I have a crazy day today.”
    I said, “No problem, Mr. Frost. I’ll be there.” He sounded relieved.
    He was late as usual, this time by half an hour. He apologized a few times, but he wasn’t really concentrating. He looked really tired and stressed.
    We went into the apartment and he gave me printed sheets with information about the vacant units. He said he’ll take the calls for the rest of the week, but if I could move in by Friday that would be great.
    He said I have to keep the building clean and shovel thesnow out front and put salt down when it’s icy. For the driveway a company comes with a machine. The driveway is where I put the garbage. The garbage has to be put out late on Monday and Thursday or before seven in the morning on Tuesday and Friday. I also have to show people the empty apartments, and if they’re interested I have to give them an application form to fill in.
    There’s a secret code for the forms. I have to write 1 if I think the person looks OK, 2 if they’re maybe OK, and 3 if they look like they’re going to wreck the place and not pay. I’m not allowed to tell anyone about the code.
    I also have to make sure everyone pays rent on the first of every month. There’s a box in the hallway, and if they don’t put their payment in the box I have to knock on their door. If I need to buy fuses or cleaning stuff or garbage bags I have to give David the receipt and he’ll pay me back.
    He showed me a cabinet with all the keys. It’s in the coat closet of the apartment. Then he showed me where the fuse box was and I pretended I knew what it was.
    The rent is free, along with heat and hot water and the phone, plus on top of that I get $200 a month. I really didn’t expect that. But just as I was getting happy he said, “This is only a trial period. We’ll see how it goes. Listen, if you find any files or papers let me know. My father’s papers are missing.”
    Then he made me sign something about my responsibility if things got damaged in my apartment. He said, “Those people gave you a very good reference.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself that he wasn’t making a mistake.
    I said, “You’ll be satisfied. I’m very reliable.” He didn’t look as if he trusted me, but he probably doesn’t trust anyone.
    So that’s it. I have to move by Friday.
    I’ll miss this place. Our building’s a dump, but the apartment is big – five rooms and a long hallway. And it has wood floors and a balcony in the back facing trees and a clothesline. I don’t know how I’ll fit our furniture into the new place.
    Or how I’ll move it all. I guess I’ll have to call a mover from the newspaper.
    I’m also worried about Beauty. She’s going to miss having lots of rooms to prowl around in, and a balcony with trees to stare at.
    I forgot to tell you, a letter came yesterday from McGill University. They thanked me for donating Mom’s body and furthering science blah blah. They said I’ll be invited to a ceremony in June to thank everyone who’s donated a body, and there’s also a monument at the Mont Royal Cemetery where they’ll bury Mom when they finish with her, and I can go visit her there. I don’t think I’ll want to go to any sort of ceremony, but I called the number on the letter and gave them my new address, in case I