You Should Have Been Here Yesterday

Movin' Out... Involuntarily

Joey and I made our way warily back home to the apartment.  There was another letter on the door.  They were coming by at five o'clock tonight to kick us out.  We've got just under an hour to pack our shit.  We were both to our wits' end with stress, and were therefore very argumental over every little thing.

        "Gin, just lemme pack my shit and you pack yours– whaddya wanna do with the furniture?" he asked.

        "I don't know," I said, trying to throw together all my records in a box.  "Is this James Brown yours or mine?" I asked.

        "It's mine," he said.

        "I think it's mine," I replied.

        "It's mine," he said.

        "I don't think so..."

        "It's mine!  Take it outta the fuckin' sleeve if you have to–my name's on the A-side label!" he said.

        "Okay fine," I said.  "I believe you."

        "Whatever."

        "Whatever."  I put the James Brown record in a separate pile, and finish my sorting.  I had my records and almost all of my clothing packed by the time there was a knock on the door.  I guess that's really all we had: records and clothes.  I had my record player and Joey had his, but that was about it, I guess.  "Joey, get the door!" I yelled from my room.

        Joey answered the door.  I could hear his shaky voice say, "Hello..."

        The woman with the short, mousy hair and grapefruit-pink skirt-suit sat poised on the ratty chair, trying to cross her legs.  "Mister Kramer," she said professionally.  I had joined them, sitting close to Joey in the middle of the couch.  "Missus Kramer."  Joey and I almost choked.

        "Ramone," I said.

        "My apologies," said the woman, sounding bored.  "You've received our notices of eviction, yet you still refuse to pay.  I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask you to leave.  You are violating the contract."  As if to prove a point, she pulls out a piece of paper I remember signing awhile ago.

        We sat there staring at each other for an awkward moment, until I came to my senses.  "You mean now?" I gulped, suddenly faced with the reality of the situation.

        The woman smoothed her skirt, pursing her lips.  "Um, yes," she said.  "Now.  You seem to be packed..."

        In all truth, the living room was looking no different than it had before we started packing.  The only things that had really changed were my room, and Joey's clothes were now in a box, not spilling out of the box.  "Er, yeah," Joey said.  "But we haven't got anywhere to go..."

        "You don't?" the woman challenged, like she knew that we did actually have somewhere to go–we just weren't invited.

        "Not really, no," Joey said.

        "Not really," the woman repeated.  "No friends?  Nothing?"

        "Well..."

     Correction: Joey's got somewhere to go.  I haven't got anywhere to go.  Sure, I'm more than welcome over there at any time, but do the five... Well, six, with Brad... of them really want me living there constantly?  Do I want to live there constantly?  Has Brad even moved in yet?  Is Brad moving in?