The resolution on the built-in cameras of the new phone I bought this week is better than it was on the digital camera Dad let me use in high-school. I switch to the lens facing away from me and do a panoramic sweep of my office—the first private space to call my own in Chicago. The next thing is finding an apartment.

"Oh, look at all that. The shelves behind your desk will have to stay empty for a while," says Mom. She puts her face so close to her camera that I can see the tiny screws on her glasses. "The shared container worked well, even though half of your stuff was books. That's leaving from Le Havre and going to arrive to Chicago in six weeks. I emailed you the details on how to pick it up. And we mailed the package with the urgent stuff via fast mail. That's arriving by the end of the week."

"Thanks, I have the tracking number. I'm glad I don't have to spend the money on new bike gear."

"I still think you should get a car instead of borrowing Mike's old bike. We can loan you the money."

"Mom, we talked about it. I'll save a lot, and it'll cut my commute time."

"And what will you do in winter?"

"By then, I should have enough money saved to buy a car. That's why Mike's bike is a perfect temporary solution."

"You only rode a bike in France. Will your license even work in the US?"

"Thanks for the reminder. I need to get my driver's license. Hold on."

I push the menu button on the phone and move away from Mom's video to open my note app. Number fifteen: schedule an appointment at the DMV.

"Back with you. So you like my office? No view, but how cool is this? I'm an actual professor now."

"Your dad would've been proud. Have you been by his old office yet?"

"No. Maybe when I feel a bit more settled and am less likely to cry when I go by? It's like this place has a hold on D'Amicos and demands our lives to be a sacrifice to its altar."

"You're funny. But seriously, I wouldn't delay if I were you. It can be a healing experience. Speaking of that—have you found a therapist there? You know you can talk to me about anything, but then I know you too. A therapist might bring you the support you need. It's so much change and so many reminders of your dad—"

"You're probably right. Hold on." Number sixteen: find a therapist. Number seventeen: find a general practitioner. Number eighteen: find a dentist. 

"There's no hiding the fact I'm an adult now, is there?" I ask.

Mom laughs, and the red wine in her glass slushes a little bit too hard. Her face is one giant grin on the bottom and the stylish owl glasses on top. Simple yet fashionable has been Mom's style, but the time she spent teaching me how to look more polished might've gone to waste. My scrunched up face in the small rectangle looks tired and gaunt without makeup.

"You're all grown up, sweets. I'm proud of your accomplishments and happy for your new start but don't forget the boys, Manu and I miss you, and you've promised we'll see you for Christmas. It's never going to be a real Christmas without you."

"Right, thank you for reminding me. Hold on." I flip back to the notes app and add number nineteen to my list: look for plane tickets to Paris for the day after the semester ends.

***

The screaming I hear in the hallway before I open the door to the apartment is not Kora's hungry wails but Mike's booming fucks. I still myself and breathe out. I take out the key and turn the handle, cautious not to make a noise.

"...not helpful if you never actually finish the fucking thing. So, yes, I got you a hotel room. It's a fifteen-minute walk from here, and you are staying there tonight. I've paid for one week, and you can decide what you're doing then, but you are not fucking staying here any longer."

Everyone knows Mike curses a lot, but I've never heard him swear in front of Angie's parents. And especially not at them.

"You should hold your tongue, young man. This is not how you talk to my wife or me. Your mother should've raised you better."

"Dad—" Angie's voice is shaking.

"Don't you fucking dare talk this way about my mother." Mike growls when he says 'my'. His face has probably turned red, but I don't want to see it. Or for them to see me. I stay by the door.

"We are here, helping you every day for two weeks, and she's what, fixing hair for the next Hollowood celebrity?"

"Dad, stop it. You know—"

"Out! You can go to the hotel or fly around the world for another five years. I don't fucking care. I'm not going to stop you from seeing Kora, but—"

"Don't say things you're going to regret." Rose sounds calm. Too calm.

"Regret? What I regret is fucking agreeing to have this place become a homeless shelter. This is—"

Kora's cry from the master bedroom breaks Mike's tirade.

"I'll go check on her," says Mike.

I back up and slip out into the hallway, making sure the door into the apartment doesn't slam. There's no way I'm going to go inside now. I'm homeless, but I'm not friendless. And there's one friend who's always up for a visit. I head to the elevator and dial Tall's number. He picks up on the second ring.

"How was your first day at work?" asks Tall.

"Oh, wonderful. I have an office of my own."

"Did you take any photos? Can you text them to me?"

"Oh yeah, I have photos. But I can come and show them to you in person. And I can start reading if Ben dropped the book off before her left."

"Marvelous idea. How lucky can one old man get: no more boring Friday night for me. A good book read aloud is the best thing you could offer. Unless you can also bring me a couple of those eclairs again?"

"Sorry, no, they close at three. How about I bring them next time when I come on a weekend?"

"How about this Sunday? Or do you have other plans?"

"More apartment hunting, but I'll have time to stop by and deliver the eclairs first."

"And read," says Tall.

"And read. I'm on my way."

***

"...as long as ignorance and misery remain on earth, books like this cannot be useless." I finish the preface to 'Les Miserables'. This is not one of the first editions Tall collects, but a well-worn copy Ben apparently read to Tall over a span of almost two months when Tall broke the first hip ten years ago.

The room of the rehab facility likely hasn't changed in those years, either. Even though the walls with flowery wallpaper and the room's furniture try hard to suggest I'm in a three-star hotel, the smell ruins that illusion. The bowl of perfumed dried flowers on the chest of drawers under the TV does not mask the combination of bleach and mustiness and the unmistakeable old people tang.

"The book got me through rehab last time. Let's hope it isn't going to be the death of me this time around." Tall's skin is grey and dull, and he remains in bed under the quilted maroon bedspread propped up by the pillows.

"According to Ben, the reason he did it last time was for you to walk while he read," I say. "I haven't seen you walking yet."

"You are at the end of the preface. Let's not be hasty. I'm eighty-nine years old, and at my age, things take time. Maybe I'll do some walking next week. You're not going to deny the poor old incapacitated man the joys of listening to you young folk reading to me?" Tall winks at me.

"You can count on me." I wink back.

"Keep going then."

"Ok. Volume one. Fantine. Book First: A Just Man. Chapter one. M. Myriel. In 1895, M. Charles-Francois-Bienvenue Myriel was Bishop of..." I pronounce the name in the most French way possible. After I read a chapter in French from the e-book on my phone last time, we agreed that Tall asking me to translate every third word was not making either of us enjoy the process. We decided that to take full advantage of my Frenchness, but to keep both of us sane, I'd be reading in English but would make everything sound as French as possible.

A half-hour later, my mouth is dry. "I forgot how tiring it is to be talking non-stop. This is good practice for my voice before the classes begin."

"When 's that?"

"Two more weeks."

"What are you teaching?"

"This semester I'm taking over the course on 'Data in History and Literature' and will do a seminar on 'Historical Sociology of Marriage', plus my research."

"It sounds like a lot."

"A lot of prep work now, but I'm so excited, I can't wait to start."

"And how's that apartment hunting going now that you have a job?"

"Not great. It's hard getting started after five years away. I got two more rejections this week because references and my new job don't seem to make up for my low credit score. Five years in France did not erase it."

Dad's cancer didn't only ruin his life but led me to some questionable financial decisions that won't get erased for two more years. France didn't care about my US credit history, and I faced a rude awakening when my credit score reflected what my life looked like the last six months of my life in Chicago before I fled.

"How do you fix that?"

"I don't know. I'll have to keep looking."

"I might be able to help."

"You know someone I can rent from who'll overlook my credit report?"

"No. Better. How about: while you are looking for an apartment and until I'm out of this place, you move out of Mike and Angie's and housesit for me. There's going to be a lot of dusting that's needed. And it's a mess because I haven't exactly planned to not return there after the baby shower. But that way, I can stop asking Ben to go check to make sure my books are doing ok."

What? I move my head up to see if Tall is joking. He is not.

"I can pay rent. My first paycheck will come in—"

"Nonsense. You'll be doing me a favor. And if you're set on paying me back, you'll just have to come to visit me more. Les Mis aren't going to read themselves. And for you, because you are not badgering me about it as some other annoying person—" Tall winks again "— I promise to walk a bit every time you come and read. It's a win-win."

"Thank you, thank you so much. I owe you a big one." Tears swell and tingle inside my nose. I sniff and rub my eyes, glad I didn't go for makeup today. "You're going to get better and get back to the comfort of your own home. And I'm going to find an apartment or a room to rent and be out of your place in time for your return. And you will get tired of seeing me here."

We smile at each other, and I add number twenty to my list: move into Tall's place.

Mike blew up, he couldn't hold it in any longer!

Have you read "Les Miserables"? I read it when I was in middle school for the first time when I was on my Victor Hugo binge and my mom kept asking me why I was crying so much reading a book. The musical is great too.

I dedicate this chapter to @christineannriley because of two things. 1) she's back to updating "The Sex-Buddy Zone" which is a book 2 ( this is a book 2 as well!!!) in her hilarious chick lit story that makes me pee my pants every time I read it. 2) "The Sex-Buddy Zone" involves a list and we have a nice list of things going in this chapter as well.

NaNoWriMo: Day 14 (tomorrow is the middle point!!) I'm at 27,186 words. I can't lie - I am tired. I'll take a break and get back to more writing later on today, because it's the week-end, and I can. Plus I want to write ahead a bit, just in case next week gets crazy.