First Apartment

I remember the first apartment my grandmother, brother and I move into when we first came to the states. I was only 7 years old and didn't speak a word of English. I stood in the doorway, while my grandmother and brother went in. I looked at everything. I saw the cracks on the walls that someone tried very hard to hide with a few coats of paint. I felt the cold air coming through the window sill. Once again we were going to have to sleep with extra clothing so as not to freeze.
The living room ran into the kitchen, and there I saw something I had never seen before. There was a bathtub in the middle of that kitchen. The only thought that ran through my seven year old mind was, "I'm never bathing again. People are goign to see me naked,"  and that was not going to happen.
Then another thought crossed my mind, if the bathtub was in the middle of the kitchen where did they put the toilet? I ran all around the apartment looking for the toilet. There wasn't one.
"Abuela there is no toilet anywhere here. How can we live without a toilet?
"We have a bathroom. It's outside in the hallway, we share it with another family."
She grabbed my hand and led me to a door that was in between our apartment and another apartment. She opened it, and there it was, the bathroom. It was the scariest thing I had ever seen. It was dark and damp. 
"I might never pee again" I thought.
I cried for days and refused to pee in that room. For a long time I could only pee in the apartment. I even had nightmares.  My grandmother realized that staying in that apartment was not going to work. We lasted six months there.