Judy
Judy wanted me to move out, which I gladly agreed. Serena said she was surprised that I stayed for so long – 4.5 years – when I told her I moved out. I laughed at the absurdity.
The cheap rent allowed me to put most of my salary aside for saving. In 4 years I was able to save six digits in cash, but the memory of fund shortage several years earlier in London held me back from spending on a decent living environment I deserved. I remained in an 80 square feet spare room of Judy’s condo, where two of her cats pooped at the corner of the living room and urinated on blankets because the litter was only cleaned once in 4 days. It had, however, a beautiful view of the bay from the balcony. The sun rose over the mountain across the bay and lit the spacious living room through floor-to-ceiling windows, between the half-dead giant indoor plants.
In the last six months of living together, I rarely spoke to her. I tried to avoid her, but I had nowhere to escape to now that I had left D.
I had stopped considering her as a decent adult early on in our cohabitation. Not only her lack of hygiene disgusted me but also the patronizing tone she adopted as a teacher, and her pseudo-spirituality irritated me.
What determined my abhorrence was when she said women over 35 should not procreate. She was a special education teacher and said that mothers of those children were highly educated and accomplished, but they delayed motherhood and, as a result, brought disabled children into the world. She continued that women over 35 were in denial that their body was no longer apt for conceiving, and she was 42 and would probably never have children. When she made this speech for the second time, I told her she shouldn’t say that in public. She said she was sorry if I was offended. I said I was not offended, she just should not say that to anyone.