I sigh.
Me:
He’s refusing to come again.
Alice:
Sounds like you’ve got extra room in your row, then.
Me:
So I guess I can get an Uber to the airport but it also feels shitty bc I don’t really want to go there.
And was going for him after he fucked my trip.
And I pay for this apartment and I don’t trust him to not invite shady people over.
I don’t know what to do.
We go through the logistics of potentially getting the door’s code changed so he can’t come back in. But it seems difficult. The landlord lives in a neighboring town, and I have no idea how to change the code myself.
Timmy emerges from the back room, slams the bathroom door, then returns to the living room, glaring at me before retreating back again like a petulant child.
Me:
I think I might cry the whole way there.
Alice:
I don’t blame you. He’s being wild.
It’s time to head to the airport, so I call out ‘bye’ toward the back room.
“You’re leaving? You’re leaving?” he replies, then slams the back door shut again.
Me:
He just squished something in the door and shut it again.
How odd.
Alice:
You should use the trip to figure out what to do when you get home. And by that I mean how to find a place for just you somehow.
Did...he leave a note or something?
Me:
No.
He didn’t leave shit.
Alice:
Do you have anything in there that's sentimental, important, or irreplaceable?
I realize I need to act. To get out of the apartment. But the idea of showing up to Montana without Timmy is mortifying.