Dear Ms. Harper Stevens,
Multiple warnings have been issued in regards to late
payments. Your contract clearly states that rent must be paid before
the 31st of each month and failure to do so will result in
eviction from the premise.
Due to the lack of cooperation on your part to uphold
the agreement of your rental, Los Rios Valley Apartments has no
choice but to submit this letter of eviction. You must vacate the
property before: 12 PM on February 19th.
You have
been granted a total of 3 (three) days to submit your payment,
totaling $1,940 dollars. Failure to submit payment within the
allotted time will result in legal action, including physical removal
of all tenants from the apartment and the property.
If you
have any questions regarding this issue, please contact the rental
office and ask for Linda Benson.
Sincerely,
Linda
Benson
Property
Manager
This was
just what I wanted, rain on my last day in Los Angeles. I'd spent so
many relentless years trying to make it in this city and yet here I
was standing in front of my beat down Civic waving a white flag. I
couldn't have looked more pathetic with my car practically bursting
at the seams with my belongings.
It took a
while, but I finally came to terms that we just weren't meant to be.
“Fuck you, L.A!” I crumpled up my eviction notice and tossed it
over my shoulder. The sky lit up as a shard of lightening raced
across. It was enough to send me to my car in a scramble. The low
rumbling of thunder ending in a piercing crack was like some sick
twisted metaphor. This bitch didn't play.
“Harper!”
I heard a muffled shout from outside. I peeked through the fog
covered windows to see Celeste, my best friend, standing across from
my apartment in her doorway. “Harper!” She shouted again. Celeste
was wrapped up in a fleece robe frantically gesturing for my
attention.
“No time,”
I shook my head and tapped my wrist. She furrowed her brows and put
her fists onto her hips. I've never seen her so angry. I held up my
hands in defeat. “Okay! Okay!” I sighed as I took my key out of
the ignition, covered my head with the hood of my jacket and ran out
of the car.
“Harper
Marie Stevens” It almost made me laugh to hear Celeste's soft
melodic voice so firm and filled with rage. “Were you really about
to leave without saying goodbye?”
It wasn't
that I was trying to avoid her. I was just really bad at goodbyes,
especially to those that meant the most to me. Celeste had been by my
side the moment I met her three years ago. Literally and
figuratively.
I still
remember the day I drove into L.A. I was so young and hopeful and
ready to make my mark on the city. That morning I grabbed the keys to
my apartment and ran right into Celeste. We shared the same porch
that led to our apartment doorways. She was a little too chatty for
my taste, but it eventually grew on me.
It turned
out that Celeste was leaving that morning to go to work at a local
coffee shop that she owned. Needless to say, I took full advantage of
the free Wi-Fi and coffee offers, spending most of my days posted in
the corner of her shop.
Celeste shut
her apartment door before I could even answer her question. “No,
no, no!” I tried to stop her. “I can't stay long. I have to go,
Celeste.”
“You're
not going anywhere in this rain.” She firmly planted her hands on
my shoulders as she turned me around and sat me down on her couch.
“Vanilla or hazelnut?”
“Celeste.”
“Vanilla
or hazelnut?” She asked again this time with her arms folded.
“Hazelnut,”
I sighed.
She smiled
and pranced into the kitchen with a twinkle in her eye. I unzipped my
wet jacket and shimmied it off of my shoulders and onto her coffee
table.
That's when
I noticed the book flipped over on her table. Celeste was always
buying books for her coffee shop. Sometimes she'd leave a few at her
place to read beforehand. I never really paid attention to the
copious amount of books overflowing from her shelves, but this one
caught my eye. I picked it up and ran my finger over the binding. It
was still firm and bound which meant it was a more recent buy. Twenty
One Questions for Finding Love, I
grimaced as I read the cover.
Here
I was spending my days and nights writing about the growing effects
of Global Warming and the downfall of the American dollar without any
interest from a single publication and yet an entire book dedicated
to something so...so ridiculous
seemed like such a waste of paper.
I
tossed the book back onto the coffee table when Celeste walked into
the room. She was holding a couple of mugs in her hands. The rich
aroma of fresh coffee beans and hazelnut filled my nostrils. Don't
get me wrong, I may have been hesitant to stay at first, but I love
Celeste's coffee. Her shop's most generous Yelp! review was written
by me, after all. I was eager to whisk the mug from her hands and
take a big gulp of my scorching hot drink with zero regards for the
taste buds I was about to lose.
“It's
about Alexander Nottingham's 21 questions.” I looked up at Celeste.
Her eyes were set on the book with a crooked smiled on her face.
“Alexander
Nottingham?”
Her
crooked smile quickly turned into a full grin causing the slightest
indentation of dimples on her cheeks. After years of rolling my eyes
at her poor choices in books I had finally expressed an interest. I
wasn't sure why I did it, maybe it was because I knew that this was
all she wanted. To somehow distract me from leaving. Or, maybe, I
just wanted to have one last pointless conversation with my best
friend. Either way, I really didn't want to leave, but I had no
choice. My bank account was drier than the San Fernando Valley and I
was shit out of luck.
“He's
a psychology professor at Columbia University. Most of his work is in
intimacy of interpersonal relationships.” She continued as she
snuggled into the corner of her over sized couch. “Basically, he
used the popular game of 21 questions and combined it with his
extensive research to create a way for couples to build mutual
vulnerability with one another.”
I
stuck my finger in front of my mouth and made a gagging noise. “You
aren't seriously buying into this bullshit, are you Celeste?”
“The
man is a Brit with a PhD, of course I believe him!”
“What
a waste of an education.” I mumbled.
“Come
on, Harper. You can't possibly be that shut off to the idea of love.”
“And
you can't possibly be that naive to believe that the idea of finding
love isn't just a way for main stream media to subliminally project a
false necessity in order to fund a billion dollar market.”
I
immediately regretted my words as they left my mouth. I had done it
again, unintentionally killed Celeste's spirit. I didn't mean to, but
we were two completely different people. She always saw the glass
half full while I saw it completely empty.
Maybe
that was the reason she was able to score more dates than I was. Not
that I was counting or anything. She had a charismatic charm about
her. I noticed it the first time she dragged me away from my laptop.
There was a new bar in town just west of Hollywood that we decided to
check out. I remember how every guy that sat next to me at the bar
ended up on Celeste's side by the end of the night. I couldn't help
it, cheeky pick up lines make me question a guy's intelligence. So
what if it hurt their feelings? Sure, I could have played dumb like
Celeste did just to score a casual hookup, but I didn't have time for
such foolery. I moved to L.A for one reason and that was to build my
career as a journalist.
Or
maybe I was putting up walls because I knew I couldn't be as
charming. I won't lie, watching a man's attention divert from me to
another women is a major blow to the ego, even if I pretended like it
didn't bother me. Why couldn't I just find someone who liked me for
me...sarcastic personality and all?
“I'm
sorry...” I sheepishly whispered as I stared down at my coffee. I
tried to bring the conversation back around hoping I hadn't
completely brought her down. “Has any one even tested his theory?”
She
gave me a half smile. “I was thinking maybe you could.” I cocked
my head and gave her a look. “I know you better than you know
yourself. I know you try hard to pretend these things don't matter to
you, but you're never going to find The One if you don't open up
more.”
“Okay,
okay!” I swatted my hands around as I set my empty mug on the
coffee table. “Enough about that. Right now I just need to focus on
getting back home and figuring out where the hell my life is going.”
“Harper,”
Celeste grabbed my hand from across the couch. “If money is the
issue, I can help you out for a while. Just until you can get back on
your feet. You could even stay in my apartment if you wanted.”
“That's
sweet, but I'm pretty sure Linda would evict you too if she found out
you were harboring me.” We both laughed as we imaged our old,
smoker voiced landlord poking her head around Celeste's apartment.
She really had it out for me.“Besides, I already owe a hefty loan
to my parents for these last few years. And, I'm hoping the East
Coast has more to offer in the career department than L.A did. Who
knows, maybe a change in scenery may bring me some better luck.”
“Or a change in mindset.” She shrugged. “What?
Trust me, your life will change the moment you change your mind.”
