The Apartment Viewing

By the time Sofia arrived at the third apartment viewing of the day, she had already learned two things about renting in Montreal: good apartments disappeared quickly, and photos online could be very optimistic. The first apartment, in the Plateau, had looked charming in the pictures. In reality, it was on a busy street above a bar, and when she stood in the bedroom, she could feel the music through the floor. The second was spacious and quiet, but it was a forty-minute bus ride from the hospital where she worked night shifts, and coming home after a shift would mean a long wait for the bus in the dark. The third apartment was smaller than both. The kitchen was barely big enough for two people, and the bathroom hadn't been renovated since, as far as Sofia could tell, the 1980s. But it was a fifteen-minute walk from the hospital, the street was lined with trees, and the owner, an elderly man named Mr. Gagnon, told her who cleared the snow from the outside stairs and showed her which window stuck in winter. "I'd rather you know now than discover it in January," he said. Sofia hesitated. Her friends had told her never to accept the first place she liked, and she had planned to see two more apartments the next day. On the other hand, she trusted Mr. Gagnon's honesty more than any listing she had read. She asked if she could think about it overnight. "Of course," he said, "but there are four other people coming to see it tomorrow." That evening, Sofia made a list. Space and a nicer bathroom were on one side; sleep, safety after night shifts and an honest landlord were on the other. The next morning, at eight o'clock, she called Mr. Gagnon and said yes.