CHAPTER 2

My brother had come to check on me and I went out to see him. I had placed a shoe at the door to block it from locking, but I guess shit happened and the door locked. On my way back in, I was locked out. 

Normally, the first thought was supposed to be, "Oh my gosh, I'm going to freeze!". But what went on first in my mind was, "She's going to be so mad I did this. What am I going to tell her?". Then again, I was starving, but I was scared of eating the food in her fridge. I just drowned myself in water, because water is water. You can deny somebody cash, but not a drop of water. So, I knew she'd understand if she found 6 bottles of water gone. 

Oh! I can't starve. I have stomach ulcers. So, I had to do the Math; either wait there for hours until she comes back, hopefully with food. Or run outside and catch my brother before he leaves so, he could at least keep me company and feed me. I rushed outside praying to find his car still there, and I guess it was my lucky-unlucky day, he was there. 

"What happened?", he asked, a look of worry in his eyes.

"I'm locked out, and I'm hungry. If we tell her about the door, she'll be so furious. If you're not busy, we can go for a drive until she comes back.", I said, trying so hard to hide my emotions so he wouldn't know that I was about to cry.

"Hop in. There's a good restaurant close-by. I can also call her about the door once we're there.".

Thank goodness. We went for that short drive to Chipotle. My very first-time hearing and eating there. The food was great. The flavor was new but very addicting. I forgot about my worries for as long as it took me to devour that bowl. On the other hand, my brother had texted the lady about the situation and as I guessed, she was infuriated by it. I guess that was the second straw. The first one was that I triggered the fire alarm on the first day I moved in. The third straw was me asking for a Wi-Fi password. The last straw, and this I'm very sure of, was that I slept in bed while she expected me to sleep on the couch. But you see, I get it. Her space was small, and I invaded it. I'd kick myself out too if I was her.

And that's exactly what she did. The next day, she asked my brother to look for another place for me. She'd had enough. I could see the look on my mom's face when we told her about it. She was torn. Where was I going to go? I only had $200. 

"What about a hotel?", my dad asked over the video call we were having.

"Hotels are very expensive here.", my brother replied, "But we can find an Airbnb.",

"What is that? A guest house?", my mom asked.

We had no idea what it was. I then found out that Airbnb was a renting system, cheaper than apartments, allowing you to stay for a few days. People with houses that have extra rooms would rent out their rooms to people like me. We found one which charged $25 per night, and we couldn't wait to move there, not out of excitement, that was, but because we didn't want to annoy the friend even more. She was kind enough to put a roof over my head for a few days, and I'll always be grateful for that.

But mentally, I was already starting to despise my move from home to the States. I never had a single happy day ever since I arrived. I was always worried about something. Even after I lived in that Airbnb in CrestHill, I was always thinking of something worse that could happen. I had had these imaginations in my head, delusions that my life will change for the better if I step on the land of the USA, but why was it worse? I wasn't happy. I was becoming something else.