Perfect Apartment

My mother and I spent hours driving around town, searching for the right neighborhood and the just-so apartment. I was never a fan of the big complexes. I didn't want a box in a building I couldn't recognize from all the ones around it. I cared about other things. I wanted sidewalks. I wanted to be able to walk to campus. When we happened upon Dearing Place, I stopped the car. I got out just to walk the length of it.

It was simple street, tucked away near downtown. I thought it must be in a historic district. All of the houses were nice, but one house, midway down the block, stood out. It was obviously an old Antebellum home. The street was lined with trees that touched in the middle. At the end of the street, two brick pillars stood, each marked with a stone plate that announced your entrance on to Dearing Place. Just beyond it, across Queen City, was another southern estate. In the yard stood two large shrubs in the shape of peacocks.

I drove down the street and circled back around to drive down it again, and then again. We drove around the neighborhood to find a tiny grocery store, a gift store, a bar and a used bookstore in an old house - all within walking distance from the apartments at the end of the street. We drove back down Dearing Place so I could write down the number on the front of the building. There were no "For Rent" signs. There was no indication that an apartment was available that Fall. But I was going to call anyway. I was going to beg if I had to.

Back at the hotel, I was nervous while I dialed the number of the real estate office. I heard a strong southern accent say, "Hello?" 

"I'm calling about the apartments you own at the end of Dearing Place. I was wondering if any of them were one bedroom and if so, are any of them available for this Fall?"

I was put on hold and then a man picked up the line. "It looks like we do have a one bedroom available on Dearing Place this Fall."

"How much is the rent?" I asked.

When he told me the very affordable price of $295.00, I practically squealed. "It's perfect!"

"Well, if it's perfect," the man said, "then it's $400.00." 

Then we both laughed. 

I hadn't even been inside the apartment yet, but I knew that street was home. I didn't consider the neighbors. I didn't think about who might live near me. All I could see was the architecture and the tree tops that touched in the middle of the street. I kept saying the name over and over again on the drive from the hotel back to Dearing Place to see the apartment. Dearing Place. "Dearing Place," I said. It sounded significant. It was. It would be.