We’d been staying in Steve and Paola’s guest room for close to three weeks by this point, and it was clear that it was time for us to leave.
But we were having major problems getting approved by any of the condo boards for the places we liked (and could afford). There was a very high bar for getting approved to live in most of the high-rise buildings in Aventura. You had to be a squeaky clean American — at least on paper.
I had already driven up to Omar’s office twice so he could make copies of my passport, birth certificate, social security card, voter’s registration card, and my driver’s license — but even having all of that still kept us just outside the loop of acceptance. It was insane how many things I had to offer to prove that I was a U.S. citizen, and that I could be trusted to live in a condo in Miami. It just seemed hinky to me that we were having so much trouble!
“Welcome to Miami!” Omar would often say. “The fraud capital of the US!”
After losing everything in 2008, we knew our credit wasn’t going to look good, so Steve had Hans prepare a simple letter of employment stating Lou’s salary information. Omar said that should be enough. But unfortunately, a letter like that didn’t seem to grease the wheels all that much. But things were starting to get truly uncomfortable for us at Steve and Paola’s, and Lou and I both felt this horrible urgency to find something that would work. So I became obsessed with finding a place to live, and, I think I became Omar’s worst nightmare!
On top of that, Steve was having some second thoughts about letting us use his Mercedes as our work car. He told us that he had to check with his lawyer to see if he could transfer the name on the car to one of us, but in the meantime, we shouldn’t get too comfortable with that car.
No sooner had Steve told us this news than I came out to the parking lot at Lou’s office and discovered that the car had a flat tire. One of the guys in the office had AAA, and when the tow truck arrived, and lifted up the car with a jack, the rubber of the tire literally fell off the wheel like it was a candy bar wrapper. The tow truck driver said that the rubber was worn down to the steel belts, and it was a lucky thing that we never had a blow out when we were driving the car at 65 miles per hour on I-95.
Lucky thing?! Good grief…
Later that night, I remember being in that white-on-white guest room, whispering to Lou about how afraid I was to trust any of the promises that Steve had made to us. Lou said he felt worried, too, but he knew if he could just rally up some strength, and get into the office on a daily basis, he could turn the company around and make it work. But right then, we just had to keep our chins up, and keep digging to find a place to live. It would all click into place once we were out of Steve and Paola’s space, and everyone could think more clearly.
The next morning, I was sneaking into the kitchen to get a glass of water when Paola stepped into the room. She was wearing a brightly colored spandex work out top with matching stretch pants, and neon yellow work out shoes. The colors were so bright, but they made her young skin look tan and glossy.
She smiled at me, and then said, “Come and sit.”
So I followed her into the living room. She sat down on this furry (white) circular chair, and I sat down across from her on a stiff (white) sofa. She looked me directly in the eye and said:
“It’s time for ju and Lou to leave now. We need the room ju are staying in for my family who is coming to visit for the Thanksgiving.”
It was currently October, but that didn’t matter. She was right. We needed to leave. But having her say it so specifically in her clear (yet unclear) words was incredibly humiliating. It felt like she had just slapped me across the face.
I remember feeling so ashamed, and so sorry that we had been imposing for so long. I wanted to express my deepest gratitude, but I couldn’t find any words. It felt awful to be so needy, and I wanted nothing more than to have my own place.
I felt my chin start to wobble like I might cry, but I held it together. Once I was sure I was composed enough, I said, “Yes, of course. We’ll leave tomorrow. Thank you so much for letting us stay here. I’m so sorry it’s taken so long. But I’m sure Lou and I will figure something out.”
Paola simply said “Good. Thank ju,” and gracefully left the room.
[Side note: I do have strong memories of countless kind things that Paola did for us. She was young and very privileged, but she was also very good
