"I need the payment before the end of the week, Cassie, regardless of how you go about it. If not, we'll have to evict you"
As I gazed at the paper, shaking hands, the words became jumbled. The red lettering shouted at me, "EVICTION NOTICE." Breathing became difficult, and my heart thumped in my chest.
"Hey? Cassie? Are you still present? My world was collapsing in the present when I heard the landlord's voice crackle over the phone.
I stumbled, "I-I'm here," and tried to calm my voice. "I'll come up with something. I require further time.
Even I could see the doubt in my voice, though. More time? Time was running out.
After a little silence, he let out a sigh that sounded like the weight of the entire planet. "I apologize, but I am unable to do that. You've fallen behind by three months already.
I was terrified I would faint from the vertigo, so I buried the heels of my hands in my temples and closed my eyes. The one thing I had worked for, battled for, and loved more than anything else was the art center, and it was dying. Piece by agonizing piece, my dream was being ripped from me.
With a click, the call ended, and I stood motionless, gazing at the eviction notice as though I wanted it to disappear. However, it persisted, mocking my incapacity to correct this and teasing me with its strong lettering. I had invested all of my savings in this facility. I had used up all of my connections and favors, and now I had no other choice.
Panic creeping in, I ran my fingers through my hair. Now what? I couldn't ignore it. I was unable to. Not when artists were depending on me. Not after everything I had invested in this home. My feeling of purpose, the cornerstone of my life, was being torn away from me.
I required assistance. However, it had always felt like conceding defeat to ask for help. Furthermore, I wasn't yet prepared to give up.
"God, Cassie, get it together," I whispered as I paced the tiny apartment where I lived, feeling as though the walls were closing on me with each breath. The picture of my best friend Sophie and I laughing together at the art gala two years ago caught my attention. Sophie. She'd be aware of what to do.
Before I could question myself, I took out my phone and called her. Before she answered, the phone rang three times, and her voice was as upbeat as ever.
"Hi, Cass! What's going on?"
Her voice struck me like a kick to the stomach. I wasn't feeling well. She was also able to hear it. The weight that lingered in my voice.
"I... I must speak with you. Would you be able to visit?" Despite my best efforts, I knew she could sense the despair in my voice.
The person on the other end paused. "Obviously. At 2 pm, I'll be there.
I hung up, experiencing a surge of embarrassment. How did I allow things to progress this far? The center had served as a haven for me, a creative hub for artists without other options. I had vowed not to let them down, but now I was at a loss for what to offer. The utilities, rent, and bills all seemed excessive as if I were drowning.
I was barely able to gather myself by the time Sophie showed up. She was standing in the doorway, her typically vivacious demeanor a sharp contrast to the weight that was bearing down on me.
She murmured, "Hey, girl, you look like hell," and entered. But her eyes softened when she saw me standing in the middle of the room, holding the eviction notice like it was a lifeline.
I was at my breaking point. As I fell onto the couch and buried my face in my hands, the tears came quickly and hot.
My voice was heavy with sorrow as I murmured, "I'm losing it, Sophie." "This is not something I can do. I must maintain the center. I've put in a lot of work-" I couldn't contain my tears, which clogged my sentences.
With her hands softly removing mine from my face, Sophie knelt before me. "Cass, look at me." She spoke softly yet firmly. "The core won't be lost. Can you hear me? We'll resolve this."