Julian stayed that night.
Not because I invited him to.
Not exactly.
I simply didn't tell him to leave.
He slept on the couch again, while I lay awake listening to the occasional creak from the living room.
At some point after midnight, I heard movement.
I opened my bedroom door.
Julian was standing beside the kitchen table.
He was holding a sheet of paper.
“You should be sleeping,” I whispered.
“So should you.”
“What are you doing?”
He turned the paper toward me.
There were handwritten notes covering it.
Rear stair light.
Loose handrail.
Laundry vent.
Outlet.
Front-door hinge.
I stared.
“You made a list?”
“Just things I noticed.”
“You're planning to fix them?”
“Some.”
“Why?”
He looked genuinely puzzled.
“Because they're broken.”
I almost laughed.
“That isn't an answer.”
“It is to me.”
He put the paper down.
“I don't like sitting around.”
“You could be resting your leg.”
“I've rested enough.”
His voice was quiet, but something underneath it sounded harder.
I understood then that losing his work had probably been worse than losing his apartment.
His hands needed a purpose.
So I went back to bed.
The next morning, Julian was dressed before seven.
His backpack was packed.
He stood near the door.
“You're leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you going?”
“I'm going to talk to your landlord.”
I stared at him.
“No.”
He looked surprised.
“No?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't need a stranger negotiating my rent.”
“You need time.”
“I'll handle it.”
“When?”
“I'll get paid.”
“When?”
I hated that question.
He didn't ask it cruelly.
That made it worse.
I looked toward the kitchen.
Leo was eating cereal at the table, pretending not to listen.
Julian lowered his voice.
“How long before he can take the next step?”
“I'm not discussing this.”
“You should.”
“You're leaving.”
“I am.”
“Then leave.”
He looked at me for a moment.
“All right.”
He opened the door.
Then he paused.
“You know the handrail upstairs is dangerous.”
“I heard you.”
“If somebody falls—”
“I said I heard you.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
He stepped into the hallway.
Then Leo spoke.
“Julian.”
Julian turned.
“Are you coming back?”
Julian looked at me.
I didn't answer.
He gave Leo a careful smile.
“I don't know.”
Then he left.
I thought that would be the end.
Twenty minutes later, there was a knock.
I opened the door.
Julian stood there.
“You forgot something?”
“No.”
“Then?”
He held up the sheet of paper.
“I forgot this.”
I took it from him.
He looked toward the stairs.
“Your landlord should know about these.”
I sighed.
“Fine.”
He smiled slightly.
“Thank you.”
I closed the door.
Ten minutes later, I changed my mind.
Not about the repairs.
About letting him handle it alone.
I found him downstairs near the building office.
“You're not doing this without me.”
He looked at me.
“I wasn't planning to.”
Mr. Harrison was sitting behind his desk when we entered.
He looked up at me and immediately frowned.
“Claire.”
“I know about the notice.”
“I assumed you did.”
His eyes moved toward Julian.
“Who is he?”
Julian stepped forward.
“Julian.”
Mr. Harrison waited.
Julian placed the handwritten list on the desk.
“I noticed several maintenance problems in the building.”
Mr. Harrison barely glanced at it.
“We have maintenance.”
“Then they missed these.”
The landlord looked at him again.
“You're a contractor?”
“I used to work hospital maintenance.”
“Used to?”
“Eleven years.”
Mr. Harrison leaned back.
“And now?”
Julian didn't answer immediately.
“Now I'm between jobs.”
Mr. Harrison gave a short laugh.
“That's one way to put it.”
I felt my face heat.
“Mr. Harrison, I came about the notice.”
“I know.”
“I need some extra time.”
“You've already had extra time.”
“I know.”
“Claire, I can't keep extending this.”
Julian remained quiet.
Then he tapped the list.
“You might want to read that first.”
Mr. Harrison glanced down.
His expression didn't change at first.
Then it did.
“What is this?”
“Problems I found in the building.”
“You're telling me my building is unsafe?”
“I'm telling you there are things that should be repaired.”
Mr. Harrison looked at me.
“Did you ask him to inspect the building?”
“No.”
“Then why is he doing it?”
Julian answered.
“Because nobody else had.”
The room went still.
Mr. Harrison stood.
“You don't get to walk into my office and tell me how to run my property.”
Julian didn't raise his voice.
“I'm not.”
“You sound like you are.”
“I'm offering you a solution.”
Mr. Harrison crossed his arms.
“What solution?”
Julian pointed at the list.
“Give Claire thirty days.”
Mr. Harrison laughed.
“Excuse me?”
“Put it in writing. Thirty days before further action on her overdue rent.”
“And what do I get?”
“I repair everything on this list that doesn't require licensed work.”
Mr. Harrison stared at him.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You're not even a tenant.”
“No.”
“You're injured.”
“Yes.”
“And you're offering free labor?”
“I'm offering useful labor.”
That silenced him.
Mr. Harrison picked up the paper.
He read slowly.
The loose stair rail.
The rear light.
The dryer vent.
The front door.
The outlet.
The landlord's expression tightened.
“Where did you see all this?”
Julian answered.
“I live with Claire temporarily.”
Mr. Harrison looked at me.
“You brought a stranger into the building?”
I swallowed.
“For one night.”
Mr. Harrison looked back at Julian.
“And now?”
Julian said nothing.
I did.
“He has nowhere else to go.”
The words sounded more revealing than I intended.
Mr. Harrison looked down at the list again.
“How much would a contractor charge?”
“For everything?”
“Yes.”
Julian considered it.
“More than thirty days of rent.”
Mr. Harrison smiled.
“You're negotiating now.”
“I am.”
“What if I say twenty days?”
“Then call someone else.”
The landlord's smile disappeared.
“Twenty-five.”
“Thirty.”
“You're in no position to bargain.”
Julian nodded.
“That's true.”
He stood.
“Neither are you, if that list is accurate.”
I held my breath.
Mr. Harrison stared at him.
Then he looked at me.
“You trust this man?”
The question caught me off guard.
I looked at Julian.
The stranger who had slept on my couch.
The man who had repaired my faucet without asking.
The man who had read a rent notice he had no right to read.
The man who had just walked into my landlord's office and risked being thrown out simply because he thought he could help.
“I don't know him well enough to say that.”
Julian nodded.
“That’s fair.”
He started toward the door.
Mr. Harrison stopped him.
“Wait.”
Julian turned.
“Thirty days.”
I felt something inside me loosen.
“Put it in writing,” Julian said.
Mr. Harrison sighed.
“You really don't trust anybody.”
Julian looked at him.
“Not with things that matter.”
The landlord pulled a form from a drawer.
While he wrote, Julian asked where the building tools were kept.
Mr. Harrison pointed toward a storage room.
“Take what you need.”
“Good.”
The agreement was signed.
Thirty days.
No further action on my overdue rent during that period.
In exchange, Julian would handle the repairs he could safely perform, while Mr. Harrison would bring in licensed professionals for work that required them.
I stared at the paper.
Thirty days.
It wasn't a miracle.
But it was time.
Julian noticed me staring.
“You said you needed three hundred dollars and a miracle.”
I looked at him.
“This isn't three hundred dollars.”
“No.”
“And you're not a miracle.”
He smiled.
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Miracles don't usually fix doors.”
For the first time since I met him, I laughed.
It surprised both of us.
By noon, Julian had begun working.
He moved slowly because of his knee, but he knew exactly what he was doing.
He tightened the stair rail.
Adjusted the door.
Cleared what he safely could from the dryer vent.
He marked the electrical outlet and told Mr. Harrison it needed a licensed electrician.
He never complained about his leg.
He simply stopped when it hurt.
Then he started again.
Leo followed him around whenever he wasn't at school.
“Why do you know how to fix everything?”
Julian crouched beside him.
“I don't.”
“What can't you fix?”
Julian looked toward me.
“Some things take longer.”
I knew he wasn't talking about plumbing.
That evening, I found him sitting at the kitchen table with his backpack open.
His paperwork was spread across the surface.
Medical records.
Insurance letters.
Workers' compensation documents.
Court notices.
Dates written in the margins.
I picked up one page.
“Why haven't you filed this?”
“I did.”
“They sent it back.”
“Why?”
“Missing documentation.”
I looked through the stack.
There were papers everywhere, but no order.
“You've been carrying all of this around?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Months.”
I sat down.
“Let me help.”
He looked at me.
“With what?”
“This.”
I began sorting the papers into piles.
Medical.
Employment.
Legal.
Insurance.
Dates.
He watched me.
“You don't have to do that.”
“I know.”
His mouth curved slightly.
“You say that a lot.”
“Because people keep telling me what I don't have to do.”
We worked until Leo fell asleep on the couch.
When I looked up again, Julian was holding one of the letters.
His hands were shaking.
“What is it?”
He swallowed.
“They rejected the claim again.”
I reached for the paper.
He pulled it back.
“I've got it.”
I let go.
He stared at the page.
Then he folded it carefully.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
“What happens tomorrow?”
“I appeal it.”
His voice was different.
Not defeated.
Determined.
And I realized the thirty days we had just won might not only save my apartment.
They might give Julian enough time to fight his way back into his own life.
Click here to continue reading: PART 4: The Rent Agreement Bought Me Thirty Days, but Julian’s Repair List Revealed a Larger Problem That Could Change Both of Our Futures
My Son Stopped Beside the Grocery Store Wall, and the Stranger He Couldn’t Stop Watching Forced Me to Make a Choice I Had Never Planned
Part 3 of 12
