Sharing My First Apartment in Montreal

In preparation for his mother’s arrival from Budapest, Tom found a two-bedroom apartment in the Côte des Neiges neighborhood of Montreal.

My First Apartment

Because it would be two months between moving into the apartment and Mother’s arrival, I looked for someone interested in a temporary place. My Hungarian friends knew of an assistant professor at McGill University who needed a two-month rental. They thought Tom and I would be a good match, if I was able to accept some interesting behavior wrapped around a good spirit.

I called Tom and told him about the place and the price, which resulted in this rapid exchange:

“I’ll take it! Can you help me move?”

“Don’t you want to see it first and meet me?”

“I can decide most things by feel. When can we get it done?”

I got a bit cautious.

“How about I drop by McGill tomorrow? We can have a ten-minute chat, shake hands, and then decide on the next step.”

“OK. See you tomorrow. Bye!” and he hung up.

The next day, I visited him, with some trepidation, but with an open mind. He was wearing baggy pants and a T-shirt as he gave instructions to some students who surrounded him. There was a lot of laughter. They seemed to respect and like him. I started to feel more at ease.

“I’ll be with you in a few minutes,” he said, acknowledging my presence. When he was done, he came to me with what appeared to be a forced smile, and stretched out his hand.

“OK. So, what is your concern? Here is a check for the first month’s rent. Any further questions?”

“None, really, except an understanding about keeping the place reasonably clean and orderly, keeping noise low, no female visitors overnight, no sex, no wild parties, no annoying food smells outside the kitchen, and respect for each other.”

“I think I can handle these items,” he said. “Let me know if something bothers you.”

We shook hands, and set the date for the move. I walked away feeling that I would probably survive two months of living with this character.

On the agreed day, I pulled up at his apartment house in working clothes, ready to start the process. There was a rented truck in the driveway, rear door open showing he was already in action. The house door swung open and Tom and his helper emerged with a sofa.

“Hi Tom,” he said. “Go to apartment eleven and grab any furniture you can carry alone.”

The word “please” did not seem to be part of his vocabulary.

I went to his apartment and looked around to get a feel for Tom’s way of housekeeping. The level of cleanliness and orderliness had me concerned. I was particularly surprised to see pots, pans, and large utensils hanging in his shower. A compact boom-box sat on the floor just outside the shower.

“Hey, Tom, what are the things hanging in the shower doing there?” I asked as he and his buddy entered.

“Oh, I just like to utilize every minute. I can wash them when I take my shower, and I can also sing along with the radio. If this bothers you, I can skip this routine. No problem!”

“You guessed it. Let’s wash them in the kitchen, but feel free to sing in the shower, unless I am asleep.”

The three of us got everything into the truck and left for my place, which was fifteen minutes away. I followed them in my car. Tom did not want to keep and pay for the truck longer than necessary. He told us to unload everything, except his two suitcases, onto the lawn behind the house. After we had finished, he looked at his watch and declared it would be supper time following the returning of the truck.

“You want to leave all this stuff on the lawn while we have supper?” I asked. “I trust people, but this is a bit of a gamble, and besides, do you see the clouds? What if it starts raining?”

“Come on. I’m hungry, and it’s getting late for supper!”

I did not want to sound like a sissy, so we returned the truck. The two guys got into my car, and we drove to a restaurant for a simple Chinese meal, a first for me. I suggested that we sit at a window, just in case it started raining and we had to leave in a hurry. Tom thought we should not let weather-watching taint our fun and, being the host, he picked a table inside. We ordered the food and leaned back with anticipation.

A few minutes later a bowl and a little packet was served for each of us. I did not realize soup came with the dinner, so I asked the waiter for some help.

“May I have a spoon please?” I asked politely, triggering roaring laughter by all. I was unfamiliar with the Chinese custom of having a bowl of water and a soapy napkin available to wash our fingers during and after the meal! I joined in the fun and was glad it happened in the company of people where my image of sophistication was not critical. We had a good time, and we were ready to continue the moving job.

By now, it was dark, but we could see through the window that it was pouring! We arrived back at the house to find the pillows and the furniture soaked. Without a word of blaming our leader, we carried everything up to the third floor and spread it out wherever there was room.

“Cheer up, guys,” Tom said. “In a week, everything will be bone dry. Thanks for your spirit and your help!”

There was no response from the two of us. We did not want to spread more gloom over the sad occasion.

When I turned off the light that night, I resigned myself to the possibility of more strange experiences.

It took days to get rid of the smell as all the soaked items dried.

Cohabitation

As it turned out, Tom was a great cook. My expertise was limited to toast, scrambled eggs, cereal, and canned foods. I agreed with Tom’s offer of combining our households. He would prepare the meals, I would do the dishes, and we would divide the costs of food and supplies.

Once we implemented this arrangement, our table became increasingly elegant, as Tom used more and more dishes and pots for each meal, knowing that washing them was not his job. When I brought this to his attention, he claimed innocence, and I kept on washing lots of dishes, using a small radio to make it less boring.

Our occasional dinner parties – food and fun – became significant events in our circle of friends.

One night, Tom arrived with a big turkey while I was busy at the sink.

“Where can I wash this bird?” he asked.

Remembering the cluttered scene in his shower, I told him, “You can save time by having your shower with the turkey and sing to your heart’s delight while you do it!”

“Great idea!” he responded, as I should have expected.

Soon, I heard the water running, Tom and the turkey were getting a good rinse, and the air of Cavaradossi from Puccini’s Tosca emanated from the bathroom. I continued my chore at the sink without interruption. We had a well-running operation going.

After two weeks, I noted a sharp increase in our food expenses. Tom undertook the shopping, and I noticed the number and size of bags he unloaded every time he arrived from the supermarket. I offered my help. Tom said it was no problem, but when I insisted on giving him some assistance, he reluctantly accepted.

He loaded the cart, and I pushed it along.

The cart filled rapidly. I came up with an idea to moderate the amount we took home. As we proceeded, I would look for an item we had a use for and then suggested it once we were in the next aisle. Tom would go back to fetch it while I took the opportunity to put a few items back on the shelves next to me. At the cashier, Tom was surprised by the reasonable cost and the amount of room still available on the cart. I told him I am good at making things fit into the cart, which he did not refute.

While our common quarters were fairly neat, I was shocked when I had to enter his room. This Assistant Professor of Mechanical Engineering had books and records strewn on and under the bed and on the floor, his bed was unmade, and drawers were left open – an unholy mess! Considering all the fun we had and the limited time I had to endure his company, I decided to ignore it.

Neighbors’ Reaction

I started to wonder why the rest of the tenants in the house appeared less friendly than when I had greeted them in times past. I asked one of them if I had done anything that bothered them.

“It’s not you. It’s your roommate. His footsteps shake the whole house when comes home and climbs up the stairs, often at 1:00 a.m. We’re not the only ones who are bothered by this, other neighbors are, too.”

I apologized and promised to do something about it. I shared their concern with Tom.

“Do they expect me to wear slippers?” he retorted.

“No. They just want you to be a bit more tactful, and I happen to agree with them. I didn’t know about it because I am asleep when you get home.”

To my surprise, he complied, and the tension abated.

I would not do justice to Tom if I did not confess that we had a lot of laughs and meaningful conversations during his stay. He was very funny, very smart, and had a good heart. All in all, he became a colorful patch in my quilt of experiences.