For the love of money.....

Now you know how people say "Money is the root of all evil"? I mentioned that in passing to my mother (the minister) one day when I was a kid.

"The Bible doesn't say 'Money is the root of all evil'. It says 'The LOVE of money is the root of all evil'." I digested that. I made a decision that I would NEVER 'love' money. In my mind, that meant that a person was so desparate for material possessions, they would go to any lengths to obtain them. I wasn't that desparate for inadmant objects. That was until Chicago.

Because after my entire student loan fiasco, I must have been one of the biggest sinners around. It was in Chicago that I first began to LOVE money.

The first day I LOVED money was when I called my bank account and my over $4000 balance popped up. By the time this happened, it had started to get cold in Chicago, and the light denim jacket I had wasn't much use against the biting morning winds. "Geez," I thought as I walked quickly to class one morning, "at least in Pittsburgh you get a bit of a reprieve with the cold. Some times it will hold out, but here it hits the middle of September and you can forget the goddamned number." I made a mental note to slip on one of hoodies I'd packed in my suitcase.

That afternoon, I walked to the National City Bank that was on the way 'home' (remember that at this point I was staying with Ms. 'Liv' and her scary wig) and pulled some money out of the ATM. Although class had been in session for over 2 weeks by this time, I didn't have the cash to purchase my schoolbooks. If you've never had this problem, think of trying to have surgery without a scalpel. Yeah. Not working. I tried to explain my dilemma to Ms. Liv and her wig, and this was the conversation:

"I need some money. You don't understand, my electric bill is overdue, and I have to pay for it. I lost my job. I really need some money from you."

"Okay, Ms. Liv I hear you, but I don't have any money right now, and I've been in class for a week and a half with no books. I can't even study. I'm trying my best to help you here, please be patient."

And again she says: "I need some money. You don't understand, my electric bill is overdue, and I have to pay for it. I lost my job. I really need some money from you." She wasn't hearing me.

I walked home with $100 in my pocket, and $300 for the two weeks I'd been staying at Ms. Liv's. Living on Michigan Avenue in the area of Chicago known as "The Gold Coast", her rent was extrodinarily high----four figures per month for a studio apartment. When she began to bark about money, she wanted $300 every two weeks----$600 bucks a month for an air mattress, and a shower I had to travel to the upstairs pool to use. I walked in, and placed the money squarely in her hand.

Ms. Liv's face lit up. "Oh, you really WERE going to give me money! Oh wow! That is so great! Thank you so much!" I also tossed her a box of Crispy Creme doughnuts I'd picked up at the local Jewel-Osco (kind of like a high-priced Giant Eagle).

The skin on her face stretched tighter still: "My favorite! How did you know?!"

I leaned on the wall and slid to the floor to sit (she had no furniture), "You told me, Ms. Liv." I closed my eyes. For some reason, I knew what was coming. And I'd already made up my mind.

"I'm glad you're here," she began, gingerly placing the doughnut box on the table. Here it comes. "It's been hard having you here. I thought it would only be a few days, but it's turned into 2 weeks. I have been trying to help you as much as I can, looking for jobs, and supporting you (she took me into a restaurant one time. I had just come from class, and being me, I was wearing jeans and a Speed Racer t-shirt. She ran me out the door so quick I didn't realize we were on a job hunt until we were on the bus. At the restaurant, I tried to focus on the on-the-spot interview but the owner's eyes kept straying to Speed Racer giving that stupid thumbs up sign standing in front of his Mach 5. At the end of the interview he says: "Nice shirt." I was mortified), and it's really taking a lot out of me. I have a boyfriend, and he can't even come to visit me because we have no privacy." I opened my eyes, and slowly turned my head to her. I love money right now, I thought. It's gonna get me out of this situation. I calmly looked through her synthetic wig, and into her eyes. "Don't worry Ms. Liv," I said to her. "I'll be out of here in the morning. The only thing I ask is that you let me keep my suitcase here tommorrow during class, and later on, I'll come and pick it up and leave," I said calmly. My face never broke, in fact I smiled. I got money goddamn it.

Ms. Liv looked at me and she smiled broadly. "Oh Gene, it's been nice, and I was so willing to help, but I can't anymore." I stood up and grabbed my cell phone, leaving the apartment. I rode the elevator to the top floor and got off. I called my friend and mentor, Kat Carrick.

"Hello?" I heard on the other end of the phone. It was the most soothing sound I'd heard all day. And I burst into tears. "There's a hotel room waiting for you out by O'Hare airport. Get there tommorrow evening, stay for the night, and get your head together. After that, get back into town, and we will figure it out from there."

I cried harder. "Thank.....you." I managed to choke out before hanging up the phone. I sat on the rooftop balacony and cried to the bright lights and sites of Chicago. After a bit, I went back downstairs. Ms. Liv was sitting on her twin matress, some of the only furniture in the room. I took off my shoes, and she said to me: "I'm never going to see you again, am I?" She actually sounded sad.

I glanced over at her. "Of course you will. We're still going to be in the same city, just not in the same house," I replied. Lady, if I never see you again I'll be happy as a clam.

I woke up the next morning, got dressed, and went to class. I ordered my books online (and thought about how much I was in LOVE with money the entire time) and headed back to Ms. Liv's apartment to grab my suitcases. Out on her own job search, I knew that I would never again have to see that awful wig.

I hailed a cab, and I was off to O'Hare airport. Still beaming over the money in my bank account, I paid my driver, gave him a tip, and wheeled my suitcases in front of the Comfort Inn. Kat had paid for one night in the hotel (with her clairvoyance she KNEW what was happening) and I was going to take advantage of it. I showered as long as I wanted, read up on my school work, and slept soundly for the first time in 2 weeks on hotel-grade cotton sheets, and down comforters. Talk about refreshing your soul. The next morning, I woke up and giggled. It hit me. I was effectively homeless. After I walked out of the doors of Liv's house, I had nowhere to go. I called Kat, and she picked up the phone.

"How did you sleep dear one?" To this day, she uses this endearment, and it always makes me feel so cared for and loved.

"Like a rock. I can't thank you enough. I won't even ask you how you knew," I said to her.

"I planned for it Gene," she said soberly. "Listen, take down this address," I grabbed a pen and pad from the bedside table, and scribbled down an address that was on the North side of Chicago. "It's a hostel. Go there, I paid for a week in advance."

I scrunched my brow in confusion. "A hostel? What is that?" I asked. "Sounds like a cross between a house and a hotel."

"That's exactly what it is," Kat told me. "I have a feeling, it's something you are going to need."

"Well, seeing as how I'm homeless right now, yeah, anywhere is great. Thank you," I said to her.

"No problem. Call me when you get settled in," and she hung up.

I sat up in bed contemplating. I knew Kat. I knew that she never just did things for ONE reason. There was something behind the whole hostel thing, and I wondered what it was. I wondered as I showered, and packed my things, and I wondered as I called a cab, and rode out there. When I got to the front of the building. I finally figured it out.

Imagine walking into a box of crayons. That was the OUTSIDE of the building. It was decorated with plants, trees, grass, and splattered with brightly colored paint. People wearing birkenstock sandals and smelling of patcholi walked in and out of the door, and I'm quite sure I spied an "herb garden" in the grass. My cabbie left my suitcases on the curb, and drove away. I began to struggle up the steps with my massive bags, and a man immediately came out.

"Here Miss, wait. Let me grab that, it's okay," he said in response to my look of protest, "I can bring this one in. You grab your smaller one." I did as he said, and dragged my smaller suitcase up the steps and into the door. I was smacked in the face with rainbow paint, dust, and the faint smell of wheat germ. The gentleman left my bags at the desk, and I waited patiently for the lady working to get off of the phone.

"Can I help you dear?" she asked me kindly.

"Yes, my name is Gene-Leigh Wheeler, and my friend, Kat Carrick told me to come here, there was a room available for me?"

She smiled, "Yes, Ms. Carrick called earlier, and reserved a bed for a week for you."

I did a double take. "A BED?" I asked a bit confused. What, am I going to be sleeping in a hallway, I thought.

"Yes, right now you are sharing a room with 2 other young girls from Australia. They are very sweet." I nodded and followed her upstairs. She opened a door to a huge room that held 4 beds positioned against different walls, one over head light, a lamp, and varoius drawers to hold belongings. The entire room was painted in seafoam green. She then showed me to the communal bathroom and showers. "Make yourself at home, and feel free to roam around and explore. We're so HAPPY you are here!" she exclaimed. I wondered secretly if something from the "herb" garden wasn't making her happy. I looked around the room again, and chose an empty bed by the door. I touched the twin matress that was sitting on a type of wooden platform. I sat down on it and sighed, closing my eyes. "Kat, you have a hell of a sense of humor," I thought to myself. I still couldn't figure out what her reasoning was behind this particular hostel, but I had a feeling I would soon find out. "I love money," I sighed, unzipping my suitcase and taking out a set of bedsheets.