Mike dropped off our application for the place on North Venice yesterday, and today I get a call from the property management office. John tells me I don’t make enough money – I need to make three times the rent. Otherwise, I need a guarantor. First of all, three times the rent? If I was making three times the rent I’d be living in a nicer place, guy. Second of all, Maria told me only one person could submit an application for a studio. OK, but I’ll be living with my boyfriend. “Yea, that’s fine, but the property management only wants one person on the lease.” I’m not sure about this, but obviously my name will have to go on the lease because Mike has no income right now. Eventually, he will, and I’m not paying for the rent by myself, so it really is a non-issue.
So fine, I need a guarantor, which is just like a co-signer. Mr. Manfre agrees to do it for us. Thank God, but he has to go through the same application process that I did, which is a lot of information. It’s Friday afternoon, and the office is closed for the weekend and Monday because it’s Martin Luther King Day. There’s no way Mr. Manfre can fax everything over by 5pm, so we have to wait until Tuesday morning. Ugh. That’s an eternity. Oh well, we have no other choice but to wait it out.
I have lunch with Kyle: he’s from home. He literally moved out here two weeks before me for pretty much the same reason. He’s an actor and a writer – he even keeps a blog. Kyle is a few years younger than me. More than a few, maybe four or five. We met at Charlie Brown’s Steakhouse – my first waitressing job. I started there when I was 14 as a hostess and when I would come home for breaks from college they let my pick up shifts. It was while I was in college that I met Kyle – he was a host. A total sweetheart, and we had someone in common – Lauren Eckley.
Kyle’s Mom is friends with Lauren’s Mom, so obviously Kyle and Lauren were friends. And I used to babysit Lauren and her two younger brothers. I feel old. I was 13 when I started babysitting them. Mrs. Eckley knew me from the swim club. At the twins’ 10th birthday party I put in a little piece of paper in all the girls’ goodie bags that said, “Need Someone Responsible? Call Lindsay.” Ridiculous, but Mrs. Eckley actually let me watch her kids. Lauren must have been 8 at the time. Maybe 9. Ryan was probably 5 and Colin was an infant. Lauren was a better babysitter than me. She changed all the diapers and put the boys to bed. I was basically there to be Lauren’s friend. We just hung out and it was great. I loved going over there.
So Kyle and I don’t really know each other well, but I remember getting along with him. And a friend of the Eckley’s is a friend of mine. He picks me up since Mike has the car, and we head to Studio City. I feel like I talk too much. We’re in the same boat, but I moved out here with three people. He did it on his own. He’s living with some random guys – and even sharing a bedroom with someone. That sucks. I give him a lot of credit for doing it. Kyle is taking an acting class right now and he got a job at Abercrombie. It’s nice to have support out here, and Kyle and I promise to hang out soon – without spending money.
I go for a run later. I’ve found a new route in a more residential area of the neighborhood. A lot of houses have cactus in front, and some feel like their leaning over the sidewalk. I find myself running off the sidewalk to avoid coming near the cactus. It’s at this moment that I realize I have a slight fear of them. It makes total sense, sort of.
When I was younger, I had this nightmare. There was a huge cactus in the back left corner of my yard, and Stephen went back there, and the cactus fell on him and ate him. So it didn’t really fall on him; it attacked him. I woke up a mess, and of course, woke up Sarah because we shared a room. I told her my nightmare, and as the words were coming out of my mouth, realized how ridiculous it sounded, but was scared, nonetheless. No, I’m not afraid of monsters under my bed, I’m afraid of a cactus under my bed. I couldn’t put my feet on the floor, I was that scared.
I remember Sarah trying not to laugh at me. “Lindsay, even if there IS a cactus under your bed, it’s a plant; it doesn’t move.” Wow, Sarah. You just don’t get it.