I want to tell you a story that happened many years ago, as recently as today and will happen again tomorrow. It is a story about a deceptively familiar place where securing the basic necessities of life, health care, housing, transportation and communication, requires persistence to overcome one obstacle after another. I call this place “The Parallel Universe.”
In The Parallel Universe the most persistent and complicated hurdles are usually financial. The emotional let-down, frustration and embarrassment caused by these obstacles take their toll, but too often it is the barrier of “insufficient funds” which lies in wait between sleeping in a homeless shelter (or some other temporary arrangement) and a place of one’s own. This set of hurdles is capable of totally derailing a move off the street. My most recent experience of companioning went like this:
Trila and I arrived at the apartment complex’s rental office on the assigned date and time of the appointment. The paperwork leading up to the actual signing of the lease was extensive, so I skipped out to buy enough donuts for all three of us. A half-hour later things seemed to be winding up, so I waited in the lobby until the rental agent waved me in.
“We have to have proof the gas company will take her as a customer, before I can have her sign the lease.”
“Can we give them a call?” I asked.
“You have to go in person to their office and arrange to have the gas turned on tomorrow,” the agent explained. “And remember if you don’t sign the lease for this unit today you go back on the waiting list.” The agent set her pen on the desk and looked at the wall clock. “I’m in the office until 3.” We had little more than an hour.
So, we got back in the car for a trip to the gas company on the other side of town. I ate the last donut and waited. Ten minutes later Trila walked back across the parking lot. The pep in her step was gone, and I knew immediately something was wrong.
“I’ve got to give them a hundred dollars payable by check or money order before they will turn the gas on.” Financial Hurdle #1. Now what?
After a heart-felt promise to pay me back, we went in search of a money order and returned to the gas company to complete the sign-up. Then it was back to the rental office.
“Oh, by the way,” the agent said as though it had just occurred to her. “The down payment for the apartment is due today.”
“How much is that?”
“One hundred and twenty dollars.” Financial Hurdle #2. Now what?
Two hundred and twenty dollars stood between an apartment for which Trila had qualified, then waited two months for one to become available, set her heart on moving into and a certain return to the street. No one in her extended family and network of friends could help. The rental agent glanced at the clock. We had 15 minutes before the brand new one-bedroom apartment on the second floor with a tiny balcony overlooking a field situated in a mixed residential complex slipped away.
“I will pay you back, I promise. As soon as I get a job.”
* To protect their identity, Trila is a composite of these women. All the stories are true and describe my experience as companion in each case.
