Magical Thinking by Augusten Burroughs Page A

for listings, so there’s no way I could actually look for an apartment. Where would I find the time?
    If nothing else, Debby had time. And for a little extra money, Debby’s time could be mine, split with Brad of course.
    So in two weeks, she was twelve hundred dollars richer, and I had the lease for a one-bedroom apartment on a tree-lined street in the West Village.
    “But Debby, I really don’t want to live in the West Village,” I told her.
    “Of course you do,” she said. “It’s a beautiful area, and it’s on your subway line. No, you should absolutely be in the West Village. Besides, it’s a done deal. There’s no backing out now. Sign the lease, Augusten.”
    I wanted to tell her to find me a place in the East Village or uptown somewhere. But I was afraid of her. I felt kidnapped. I signed the lease.
    Then there was the problem of moving and packing and unpacking. “The moving company packs everything,” I told Debby. She’d offered to pack my apartment herself for a thousand dollars to make sure nothing got broken. “Moving companies are notorious,” she warned. “They break everything, especially the Jews, who are really sloppy. You should really have me do it.” ButI couldn’t afford to have her do it. As it was, I was living paycheck to paycheck.
    But she did talk me into letting her
unpack
the new apartment. I was going to fly to L.A. in a week to shoot a contact lens commercial, and we decided she would use this week to put my life back together. Although I wondered, how will she know how to arrange the furniture? Where to put everything?
    Ours had become a complicated relationship. I was dependent on her, and she knew it. She was a swindler, and knew that I knew.
    “How much?”
    “Nine hundred, and I’ll have everything unpacked and put away.”
    We decided that I would simply leave nine hundred dollars in cash on top of a box in the living room. When I got home, I’d be able to relax in my new apartment on a tree-lined street in the West Village, where I never wanted to live.
    By now, Debby had her own set of keys to my old apartment, so before I left for L.A., she needed a set to the new place. I was tempted to deny her and take my first step toward freedom. Only I didn’t have the chance. When I handed her the set of keys I had made she said, “Oh, I already got mine. Actually, I kept the originals and gave you the copies I had made. See? I think of everything.”
    “Yes, Debby. You do.”
    “That reminds me, actually,” she said. “I need twelve dollars for the keys.”
    Actually, it turned out to be a good thing that Debby had keys. I was running late on the morning I was supposed to leave for L.A. Because all my stuff was still in boxes, I had to tear everything open to find what I needed for the trip. Checking my watch, I saw that if I didn’t leave, I was going to miss my flight. So I carefully fanned nine hundred dollars in cash on top of the largest box in the living room. I slung my bag over my shoulder and grabbed thedoorknob. It came off in my hand. The knob on the other side of the door fell to the hallway floor outside my apartment.
    Surprised, I poked my finger through the hole that remained in the door and tried to pull the door toward me. It didn’t budge. I was trapped in my apartment.
    This seemed so impossible that I laughed. Surely, I could not be locked inside my apartment.
    But the door wouldn’t budge.
    And I was going to be late.
    But there was a fire escape. I’d never used one before, but it had to be easy because even drunk squatters were supposed to be able to save themselves.
    So I opened the window and climbed out onto the fire escape, wondering if this was really going to work or if I was going to fall to my death.
    But actually, it did work. I was able to climb down to the bottom of the fire escape, where I then had to unhook the ladder extension to make it all the way to the ground. The iron was rusty, and I worried that I might cut myself and