Love and Ruination: An Engaging Tale of Two Clashical Christian Schools
Chapter Three
Brentwood Apartments were not much to look at. They appeared to have been designed by some architect who was distracted by his girlfriend troubles, and who, as a consequence, relied far too much on AI to meet his deadlines. The lawn, such as it was, was only about four feet deep. There were three stories, painted beige all the way up, although there was a lighter tint of beige on the third story. There were some nondescript decorative things going on in the eaves, fooling about to no particular purpose. But the owners, clearly not aesthetes, were nevertheless competent when it came to how they ran their business. The apartments were solid, and the grounds were kept up, and the apartments themselves were kept really clean.
And so this is why an apartment there was the perfect choice for people who were just moving to town, and who wanted to get to know the area before deciding to buy a house, or to settle down in a more permanent location. They were located on the south-central side of town, and the leases were really friendly to the renters. Instead of squeezing all possible juice from the renters, the owners had decided on a business model that would serve the kind of renters they were looking for. Any renters who had always been current in their rent payments could buy their way out of the lease on very favorable terms. As a result, the owners of Brentwood Apartments always had a waiting list, and never had any apartments sitting empty for long. And during the few days they were empty, they always got a thorough cleaning and a fresh coat of paint. Sometimes they got a fresh carpet.
They would advertise that fact about friendly leases as a feature, and that is precisely why Suzanne had settled on a nice third-floor apartment there. And it was the very same reason why Avery, just one month earlier, had leased his apartment on the ground floor, on the other side of the same stairwell. When Avery and Suzanne had both typed in “affordable short-term rentals in Riverfront, Texas,” a free-standing coincidence all by itself, they had both gotten the exact same search result, right at the top. And they had both clicked on it.
And this was also why, when he was coming out of his apartment one evening, he was in a position to see Suzanne rolling her suitcases up to the base of the stairs, only to stop and glare at them balefully. The soul of chivalry, Avery would have done exactly the same thing even if she hadn’t been so attractive. She could have been mud fence ugly and he would have done exactly the same thing. This is what he told himself, and it was probably true.
“May I carry these up for you?” he asked.
She jumped, startled—she had not seen him approach—and then laughed. “I would really appreciate that,” she said. “They weighed these beasts at the airport, and I honestly think trying to carry them up would just about do me in.”
A few moments later, Avery deposited the two suitcases by her door, caught his breath, and then extended his hand. “My name is Avery. I would welcome you to the neighborhood, but I have only been here a month myself, and so I am not sure I have the right or the responsibility. But welcome anyway.”
“My name is Suzanne,” she said, offering her hand. “Thank you for carrying those up for me.”
“Most welcome,” Avery said. “See you around.”
As he clattered down the steps, he was muttering to himself. She had better be a Christian.
Over the course of the next few weeks, he discovered that she was in fact a Christian. A beautiful Christian, but a Christian nonetheless.
He had managed to find this important fact out by timing a departure for some rapidly contrived errand about thirty seconds after he had heard her going down the stairs, and that had facilitated meeting Suzanne’s cousin Christie, who was down below, picking her up for dinner. Suzanne was still in the process of shopping for a car, but hadn’t found a good one yet, and Christie was happy to pick her up.
The three of them chatted in the parking lot for a few minutes, which was more than enough time for Avery to ascertain that Christie’s rear bumper was festooned with Christian bumper stickers, and not the sappy kind either. He had seen those stickers when he was walking up to the car, ostensibly to get to his car which was on the other side of things, and was able to incorporate them into the conversation easily. Not only so, but Christie made a point of making his path smooth for him. At his first casual reference, she jumped right in. “So are you a Christian too?” Avery nodded.
“Where do you fellowship?” he asked Christie. “I am still considering churches.”
Christie was not usually as forward in conversation about matters of faith, but she decided she needed to sacrifice her usual pattern of reticence for the sake of Suzanne, who had also been curious about the spiritual state of Avery. He had seemed like a nice man, but her ex-husband Bill had also seemed like a nice man. Well . . . he hadn’t seemed that way to her father, but still. She had learned her lesson from that go-round. A bit more reconnaissance would always be prudent. She was going to be wary without looking like she was wary. And she was certainly not going to overshare when it came to herself. Blinking yellow.
“I go to a church called Providence Reformed. It is Reformed Baptist.” But noticing an odd expression on his face, she hastily added. “But not the uptight kind.”
Avery laughed. “But what if I was looking for the uptight kind? Maybe those are my people.”
Christie nodded. “I wouldn’t think so. Uptight people never know that they are being uptight, and you seem too self-aware.”
Suzanne chipped in. “That is what I have found. And often uptight people won’t even recognize the fact that there is even a category of being an uptight person. They don’t know that this kind of person exists.”
“Well, I had better let you two be on your way,” Avery said, with no sign of moving.
“Nice chatting with you,” Christie said, her foot still on the brake. She was giving Suzanne a chance to talk a little bit more. Suzanne leaned forward in the passenger seat. “Bye,” she said.
As they were pulling out of the parking lot, Christie looked over at Suzanne quizzically. “Bye?” she said. “That’s it? Bye? Don’t you know how to flirt?”
“I do know how to flirt, and I will start when I am good and ready.” Suzanne laughed. “And I will not be goaded into it by my helpful cousin. If I felt any pressure, it would throw my game off.”
“The only game I see being played is inside your head. He is a nice-looking man, and a Christian, and a neighbor right around your age. What do you want? Egg in your beer?”
Suzanne looked at her. “Egg in your beer? What does that mean?”
“Something grandpa used to say. Don’t you remember? It means you are being awfully hard to please.”
“Time. I need to give myself a bit of time. As you know, I made a really bad choice the first time around. That was a function of me knowing how to flirt, and ignoring my dad, and poor Bill being particularly susceptible to my style of flirting. I just want to go really slow.”
“Okay . . .” Christie said.
“But,” Suzanne said, turning in her seat, and looking straight at Christie. “if I get to that point, and I decide to flirt with that man, I can promise you that I am capable of embarrassing you silly.”
The two women laughed as Christie pulled out onto the freeway.