Villa

  It came time for me to move off of the street and into an apartment.  The one chosen for me was on Fairfield Road near the split with North Main Street.  It was called Villa Hermosa.  It had a common locked door that opened up to a courtyard.  The apartments faced the courtyard on both sides, and it had two floors.  It also had a pool, but the management must have been doing biological experiments in it, because it didn't look good.  It also had a couple of washers and dryers on each floor.  Each apartment had its own key to their door.

 When I walked in, I was amazed how big it was.  There was a living room area with a kitchen.  The next room was the bedroom.  There was a walk-in closet, and a bathroom with a tub.  The Supportive Housing folks had furnished it.  I had a love seat couch; a Sony 19" TV (without a remote); a large table with 4 chairs; a mattress set; a wooden chair that broke; a vacuum cleaner; plastic hangers and a dresser.  They also gave me a blanket and comforter.  My bed frame was in storage, so I had a temporary one until I could get mine.  One thing that I was told that I may feel like I want to live out of my bag, rather than putting my clothes away.  They were right.  I didn't have much trust about things after being on the street.  Once I realized that this was my place, I put my clothes away.  It took a couple of months.

 The apartment was near everything.  A bus stop was right in front of our door.  There was a Food Lion a block away.  The library was four blocks away.  CVS was three blocks away.  Columbia College was a couple of blocks away.  And, the post office was about a mile away.  Even though I wasn't a student, I had spent several years judging drama and speech tournaments there, so I was able to go to their library and read.  Until I got my own wi-fi, I was able to use theirs or the one at the public library.  

 One day, a friend came to visit.  He knocked on the locked outside door, and someone let him in.  He asked a woman if she knew which apartment was mine.  Her response was, "Oh, you mean the little white boy".  From then on, I was known around the complex as "the little white boy".  It was a term of endearment.