Free The Rest of Us: A Novel by Jessica Lott

wandered over to the Metropolitan Museum of Art following an urge to photograph the vendors selling knockoff artwork and mass-produced photographs of Times Square, signed and framed to look like originals. Observing a group of teenagers hesitating at a table of fake African sculptures, I felt a surge of pleasure. For the past week, this had been happening to me. I’d be walking along and suddenly feel overcome with joy. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was photographing again or because I’d begun anticipating Rhinehart’s return.
    •  •  •
    I’d also recently made the decision not to renew my lease. The rent was going up again, and there’d been a rumor going around the building that the landlord’s son was filing for destabilization based on a tax abatement that had expired. It hadn’t happened yet, but the possibility had frozen me with fear several months ago, when suddenly the rider I’d been signing all those years appeared ominous. There was a lot of nervous talk amongst my neighbors, and I becamejittery every time I received a letter from the building, until I decided I didn’t need to stay in the apartment and be at the mercy of it. Once I’d made the commitment, even privately, I felt freer. Maybe, for the first time, I was learning to trust my instincts.
    I’d delayed telling Hallie, until she asked about it over the phone. She always remembered when the lease was up.
    “Are you crazy?” she said. “Why would you move?”
    “No matter how many times I paint the bedroom ceiling the paint peels because there’s a leak somewhere in there. Two weeks ago, I was taking a shower and all these tiles fell off the wall and shattered in the tub. I’ve been calling Tony twice a day to come fix it, and he didn’t show up until yesterday and then he said he didn’t have the right tools.” Tony was our super, who was aging along with the building. “I’m really excited about moving, actually.” Looking around, I already saw myself walking away from some of the apartment’s unsolvable problems that I’d learned to tolerate, how the pipes clanged when the heat came up and made the living room stiflingly hot, the grime on the outside of the air shaft window that I’d never been able to figure out a way to clean.
    “Do you know how expensive the city’s gotten? You’re not going to be able to find the same deal.”
    “I don’t need to live in the East Village anymore. I’m not twenty-two. All the noise and the kids hanging out in front of the bars is starting to get to me. I’m thinking of further uptown where rents are cheaper. I’ve been looking online.”
    “Craig’s List? Land of false promises? Have you checked out any of those places?”
    “I’ll find something. It’s time for me to stop being so scared of change and just take a leap.”
    •  •  •
    I had budgeted $1,500 a month, which was manageable with my recent raise, and I could also take off-site jobs, possibly weddings, although I was wary of cutting into the time I’d set aside to do myown projects. After having two Realtors tell me I would be unable to find a decent studio, or even a share at that price, I increased it by $100 and then by another $100. For one of the first times in my life, I felt acutely cramped by my income and even began to resent my salary, although I’d seen the books, and I knew Marty was paying me more than he should have given what he took in. My father had left me money in his will, but not much, the farm had been heavily mortgaged by the time we’d sold. I was reluctant to dip into it, since he envisioned me buying a little house with it. A practical little house, like the one I’d grown up in. It was something I’d always expected I’d have, but later, when I was older. When I was settled.
    I checked out tiny commuter apartments, two hundred square feet that only fit a bed and a kitchenette. Windowless studios, or ones where the only window faced an air shaft. I spent an entire