March Forth

by Mary Lahaj

(excerpt from my book, Bird on a Wire)

I took care of my mother for nearly ten years when she was elderly and not so well. For years before that, due to a series of unexpected life events, such as my divorce, I had lived with my mother off and on for probably most of my life. So, when she died in July 2010, I was deeply moved. We had a unique bond as the only two members in our family who were practicing Muslims. And, given this bond, we faced the world together. She made me feel understood and safe when I came home after a hard day at work. I miss her, our shared beliefs, and our way of life.

After her death, I was facing some big life changes. I had been working only part-time. But suddenly, I needed a job that paid enough for me to afford a new place to live. I had been living in my mother’s two-bedroom condo, which she owned outright, but I couldn’t afford the fees or the high property taxes. At sixty-three years old, with no career to fall back on, no savings, no retirement fund, and no husband, I could not imagine how I would ever move forward from this point in my life.

In the fall of that same year, I applied for a teaching position and sent fifteen applications to private schools. I had some teaching experience but couldn’t teach in the public school because I didn’t have a state certificate. I also put my name on a long waiting list at a nearby affordable apartment complex that September.

In December, my siblings and I decided to put the condo up for sale. Mother had scrimped and saved so that our inheritance from the sale would be substantial, even when divided four ways. Despite the winter and the economy’s glacial tempo, we chose the highest asking price the market would bear, $275,000.

By the end of February 2011, no one had inquired about the condo or shown any interest in hiring me as a teacher. The nearby apartment complex had called me twice with an available unit. But until we sold the condo, I had to decline.

On Friday, March 4th, 2011, at 11:30 a.m., the nearby apartment complex called me for the third time. It was my last chance to accept a unit. I explained my situation and hung up, disappointed. A few minutes later, as I was getting ready to drive to Yale for a chaplain’s conference, I checked my email one last time. There was a message from our real estate agent, Deb, my old friend from Weymouth High School. She had just received a “serious” offer of $260,000 for the condo.

Her word “serious” alerted me, and for some reason, I immediately called the apartment complex back and arranged to see the apartment the next day. Then, I contacted my siblings. Everyone except me seemed to be on vacation and enjoying the warm weather. My sister, Donna, and her husband, Tom, were on vacation in Florida. My two brothers, Mike and Richard, were vacationing together in Mexico. Even Deb was in Aruba.

Donna was on the beach when she answered her cell. The howling wind whistled in the background of our connection, but she was excited to hear about the offer and yelled into the phone, “That’s a good offer. Let’s take it [WIND WIND WIND] . . . The economy is bad. Let’s just sell! Hooray!” I knew she was planning to use her inheritance to finance a June wedding for her daughter.

Next, I called my brothers. I spoke to Mike, who was recently retired. He said, “Let’s counteroffer and keep it on the high side since Mom took such good care of the condo.” Richard, who was still working as an automobile sales manager, yelled into the phone, “We should hold to the asking price!”

Anchored to the kitchen table and staring at my laptop, I favored Mike’s idea and sent the email to Deb with a counteroffer of $273,000. Within half an hour, the buyer countered with a new offer, increasing from $260,000 to $268,000.

The new offer helped to soothe Donna and Richard, who complained that Mike and I had ignored their advice. Donna reiterated her warning, “We don’t want to be greedy and lose the sale.” Richard continued, “We don’t want to give the condo away at too low a price!”

Deb emailed me, asking, “What do you want to do? Take the offer or not?” Mike thought the speed of the buyer’s first counteroffer showed how much he loved the condo. Mike and I agreed to a counteroffer of $271,000. To placate our nervous siblings, Mike asked me to email them and Deb a picture of Mom in her wheelchair, mopping the beautiful wooden floors. The caption read: “See what great care our mother had given the condo.”

After seven hours, our counteroffer was still on the table, and Deb was waiting for the buyers to decide. I canceled my plans to go to Yale and sat glued to the computer. At 7:30 p.m., the phone rang. It was my old friend Linda S., whom I had not spoken to in decades. The last time she called me was in 1988 when she asked me to become a delegate for Jesse Jackson.

Although there was no way of her knowing that I needed a job, she was calling me about a job.

I said, “It’s amazing that you are calling me right now, Linda. How did you know I was looking for a job? I’ve sent out resumes for teaching jobs. But it’s been months, and I haven’t heard from anyone. What kind of job are you talking about?”

Linda confirmed that she didn’t know I was looking for a job. “But,” she said, “This is a good job for you, Mary. It’s a writing job, and I know you can do that. Why don’t you apply? Don’t worry. I know the boss. You’re a shoo-in.”

I was all ears, and Linda was very persuasive. She suggested I revise my teacher’s resume and reinvent myself as a writer. Then, she graciously offered to “eyeball” the resume before sending it to her boss. We hung up at 9:30 p.m.

Five minutes later, Deb emailed me. The buyers had countered with an offer of $270,000. Would we accept? After nine hours of negotiations, my siblings and I agreed to accept the offer.

I spent the next two hours revising my resume and sent it to Linda just before midnight. The following day, I saw the apartment, loved it, and planned to move in on April 1st. I started my new job with Linda in April; we passed papers on the condo in May, and we each received our inheritance of $50,000. And to think, it all started on one unforgettable day, March 4th, when the universe conspired to help me march forth.