The Landlord

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Joyce wasn't so joyful now.

"Correct me if I am wrong. You took a call and simply told the costumer we didn't have lanterns and they should look at Walmart."

I was slumped in the desk chair. She stood in front of me. Her arms were crossed, so you know she was in a mood. I rolled my eyes and fiddled my nails together. "I would never shop at Walmart, but I can't deny it, Walmart has everything."

"We have lanterns, Ruth." She closed her eyes, taking a long and ridged deep breath. "Then, after that call, you told a costumer the wrong information about one of our fishing poles."

"It wasn't in the catalogue."

She narrowed her eyes. "You told them they would have better luck spear fishing."

I shrugged. "They would. Much easier than all this complicated equipment."

"Then, please tell me I'm wrong... you told a man to go fuck himself."

I sat up straighter in the seat, pointing a finger at her. "Wrong. No. I told him to go fuck his momma first."

"Ruth—"

"He was being such an asshole, Joyce!"

"I'm sure he wasn't the first one being an asshole."

He might not have been the first one being the asshole. But I wasn't the last. Joyce was actually.

An hour later, I walked out of Rockwood's without a job. Honestly, I wasn't crushed. I survived three long weeks working there and I hated it. The shit part was needing to find another job. And there were only so many jobs to apply to in this shit-hole town.

Working the past few weeks earned me a whopping 780 dollars (not including the past 4 days I worked). Not as much as I wanted – or needed. A good chunk already was gone thanks to a few bills and groceries. I didn't pay rent yet, renter's insurance, or half the other bills that would be coming in. I felt so screwed. Which is bullshit because I've been doing well! I wasn't buying liquor, I wasn't buying drugs, I wasn't splurging on clothes or jewelry (which was easy when there weren't any fucking shopping options around here). Damn, I missed shopping. Almost as much as I missed easy access to fucking Pall Malls!

Driving home, I started biting my nails – which also are due for a manicure, but guess what, I'm broke and live in the middle of nowhere. My stress was increasing, my anxiety doubling. Fuck, I don't have a job. I guess I could dip into my savings, but that would have to be temporary - very very temporary.

But as I learned... that was not an easy option.

"Dad, I lost my job, what else do you want from me? Proof that I lost my job? I need money to pay my bills, pay rent...."

"I'm sorry, but you dug yourself into this."

"This is my money; I'm not asking for your charity."

"You know I'm uncomfortable giving you that much money. I've helped you with everything, Ruth. Even when nobody else wanted to. At this point, I'm just enabling you."

"Dad. They money would be for my rent. It would be for my rent, my bills, everything. Do you really think—"

"Sorry Ruth." Click.

I chucked my phone onto my couch from where I was pacing around the living room. Great. Just fucking great. Aimlessly walking around the living room, scuffing my pink socks along the carpet, I chewed on my bottom lip. I wouldn't be able to find another job in time to pay my bills and rent.