The Landlord

It's good to have friends in high places.

       At eighty-seven, Dorothy Scheb had outlived her family and almost all of her friends. Sure, there was her close friend Florence Deagan whom she’d known for more than sixty years, but Florence lived way out on Harvey Hill Rd and it was nearly impossible for Dorothy to get out there to visit Florence. The city transit buses didn’t go that far out of town and Dorothy didn’t drive any more. A cab was out of the question. With her pension, it was all she could do to get by from month to month, let alone take a cab that far out of the city. So Dorothy spent her days surfing the Internet, watching the news and various documentaries on the Discovery Channel. She'd stopped watching the History Channel when she realized that she had personal memories of most of what they called history. She didn't enjoy feeling like a relic. But every day, in all but the worst weather, her first order of business was to walk the five blocks through the park to Sanderson’s Corner Deli and buy a newspaper. There was a time when she had the paper delivered, but when the loneliness began to echo through the empty rooms of her apartment she cancelled her subscription and took to walking to fetch her paper. She always took about ten packets of saltine crackers from the counter where they put out the soup. No, her pension wasn’t that paltry, the saltines were for her faithful friends. Every day, as she crossed the park on her way back home, she always stopped, sat on the green bench on the edge of the pond, tucked her newspaper under her leg and begin to crumple the saltines and toss them towards the water. Today was no different than any other day; the ducks caught sight of her bright yellow jacket and began to assemble at the bench before she got there. Soon there were almost a dozen of them gathered around beneath the 8:00am sun, anxiously awaiting the fall of the next cracker. This was her family now, and she was grateful to have them. She doled out the saltines slowly so as to keep their company a bit longer. It wasn’t long before the squirrels came; much to the dismay of the ducks, who weren’t predisposed to share.

       “Oh Rocky, don’t be so stingy,” she scolded the most brazen of the squirrels, “calm down Mrs. Sanchez, there’s plenty to go around."

       Rocky and Mrs. Sanchez were the two most sociable squirrels. They were always right there to meet her, and seemed to have no fear of her at all. Rocky even sat at the opposite end of the four-foot bench, taking her offerings right out of her hand occasionally. Dorothy loved it, the more the merrier. She had names for most of them and talked to them all enthusiastically, ignoring the odd stares of the occasional passer-by. Today one of those passers-by was Deana Garrity, who was married to Dorothy’s landlord, Doug. Though Deana was a beautiful woman, she was a cold, heartless, spiteful shrew, and on top of that, Dorothy was the last of her “rent control” tenants. Once Dorothy was gone, they would be able to go co-op and make a tremendous profit on the ten-unit building that Doug had inherited when his father passed away. Deana saw Dorothy having her normal chit chat with the ducks and squirrels and it gave her an idea; a cunning, evil, devious idea.

       “Douglass, come in here!” Deana bellowed as she closed the door behind her.

       “Yes Dear,” Doug called out ahead as he walked up the hall towards the front of the house.

       “We are going to go co-op in a month and then we can move out of here and buy a real house.”

       “Did Mrs. Scheb finally take your offer?” he asked, rather disgustedly.

 

       Doug liked Dorothy Scheb. She reminded him of his Aunt Caroline, and he hated that Deana was so cold and horrible to her. As a matter of fact, there wasn’t much that Doug liked about Deana anymore. He’d spent many a night out on the fire escape, cursing the stupid young boy he once was, cursing the Doug Garrity of seven years past who thought that the primary qualifications for a life partner were a killer a*s and a nice pair of “funbags”. He often thought, we never talk anymore. But always corrected himself with the painful reminder, we never really did talk. He wanted desperately to be free of his conniving b***h of a wife, but he’d made a commitment for life and his Dad had always said, 'A man who didn’t have his word, didn’t have anything'. He simply accepted Deana as the penance for his youthful lust. Another of the seven deadly sins come home to roost!

 

       “No! I just found a better way to get her out. We don't even have to pay her. Put your jacket on and come with me, you need to see this,” she said, slipping something into her jacket pocket.

 

       Doug dutifully obeyed, throwing his windbreaker on and following her out the door. She stalked across a hundred yards of park with her husband scurrying to keep pace. They finally stopped at the big oak tree, sending a couple of squirrels, squealing in protest while scrambling up the tree, to the safety of the first big branch. Deana pointed to Dorothy who sat on the same green bench some twenty yards away, totally oblivious to their presence.

 

       “Look at her,” Deana snarled.

 

       “Yeah? She’s feeding the ducks. Big deal.”

 

       “No … she’s talking to herself,” Deana countered, pulling a digital video camera from her jacket pocket. “With a little editing, who’s going to know there were any ducks there? My friend Tina works at social services, she can get the old b***h committed. After all,” she said, changing her tone to one of mock concern, "I’m worried about poor, old Mrs. Scheb, living there all alone.”

 

       “Exactly what are you keeping in the spot where the rest of us have souls?” Doug asked as he turned and walked away, seriously considering calling Tina and telling her what Deana was up to. But Tina was her friend, he couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t tell Deana; and he didn’t need that grief.

 

       F**k him! I’m going to divorce his a*s after that damn building goes co-op anyway, Deana thought to herself as she continued videoing. When finished, Deana tucked the video camera into her jacket pocket, and headed home. When she got back to the house, she sat the camera on the table, and picked up her purse.

 

       “I’m going shopping, and to my mothers. I’ll be gone all day and I may stop for a drink so don’t wait up.”

 

       Doug looked up from his reading and noticed the camera on the table. If she left it, he could delete what she’d taped. He tried desperately not to betray his interest in the camera, but Deana caught his glance, and went back to grab the camera and put it in her purse before leaving. The day was warming nicely so Deanna decided to put down the top on her vintage Camaro. By now Dorothy was walking the last hundred feet across the park and Deana glared at her as she drove slowly up the street. With two right turns, Deanna was accelerating up Parkside Dr., which was the open road that ran parallel to their street on the other side of the park. She was soon up to sixty and on her way to suburbia, where the mall was waiting.

       Late that afternoon, a knock brought Doug out of the trance that his James Patterson novel had induced. He was surprised to see Mrs. Scheb standing there.

 

       “Hello Douglas. I’m sorry to disturb you but I wanted to tell you that I appreciated your wife’s last offer to buy me out, but I’m afraid that even with the extra eight thousand dollars, I wouldn’t be able to afford to live anywhere else in the city.”

 

       “Don’t you worry, Mrs. Scheb. You’re my favorite tenant and I am in no hurry to see you move. Deana isn’t as bad as she seems, she’s been a little cranky lately. I’m sorry if she made you feel like you weren’t wanted. I promise that as long as I own this building, you will never be forced to move.”

 

       “You're just such a sweet young man,” Dorothy answered, fighting back the tears whose gleam betrayed their presence.

 

       “Mrs. Scheb, I just made a fresh pot of French vanilla coffee, and I’m all alone for quite a while. Would you join me for some coffee?” he offered, pulling the door a bit more open. She smiled as she walked in, grateful for the chance to talk to something without a beak or a tail.

 

       “Only if you stop calling me Mrs. Scheb; my name is Dorothy and my friends call me Dot” she said, trying to sound stern, “you may call me Dot.”

 

       Doug and Dot sat, and talked, and laughed, and shared thoughts over more than a couple of pots of coffee. They covered in-laws, family, movies, marriage, and life in general. He had had always felt bad for Dot for the way Deana tried to push her out, but he never really knew her. This quiet old woman who always seemed so introverted and uninterested in what was happening around her was a funny, observant, intelligent fountain of wisdom and compassion. This was a renaissance woman, with political opinions, an E-mail address, musical tastes, favorite art and by God, she even quoted Col. Nathan Jessup’s angry, 'You want me on that wall, you need me on that wall!' monologue from the movie, A Few Good Men. The first time Dot got up to leave, afraid she was stealing time from a busy young man who had better things to do, Doug protested vociferously.

 

       “No you do not have to be going! Who’s waiting for you at your place?”

 

       “Well, …” she thought aloud.

 

       “That’s what I thought, no one. Deanna told me not to wait up, so I’m on my own for dinner. Will you join me? We can go out someplace, or have something delivered.”

       Dot couldn’t argue with an offer like that. She loved having someone to talk to, and since it was near the end of the month, her cupboards were growing a bit bare. Her stomach overruled her trepidation and she cheerfully agreed. The conversation went on and before long the driver from The Dragon Wok dropped off dinner. By 9:30 that evening, the remains of dinner were strewn about the coffee table in the living room and Casablanca was ending. Doug and Dot had become best of friends. He was amazed; he hadn’t had so enjoyable an evening since before he’d met Deana.

       “As much as I hate to Douglas, I absolutely have to go. I’m an old woman and I need my rest. Thank you so much for dinner and the wonderful evening,” she sighed ruefully, as she pulled on her coat and went out into the hall.

       “I’ll be down early next week to put in that deadbolt for you, Mrs. Sche … errr …. I mean … Dot,” he promised as she went down the hall toward the elevator.

       With Dot gone and Deana not due back anytime soon, Doug went back to his Patterson novel.

 

-----

       The morning sunbeams crept across the living room floor and began to whisper their warm, soft calls to wakening when the phone jarred him from his sleep, sending the novel tumbling to the floor.

       “Hello?”

       “Doug, it’s me, Deana. Look, I had a little too much to drink last night so I stayed at Claire’s. I’m sorry I didn’t call, but it was late and I didn’t want to wake you. Okay?”

       “Uh," he said groggily, "sure Deana, no problem.”

       “Claire and I are gonna grab some breakfast, so I should be home in a couple of hours.”

       “Okay Deana. Hey, when you get back, I want to talk to you about Mrs. Scheb up on five, I don’t think …”

       “Oh damn it Doug, that old bag is costing us hundreds of thousands of dollars. There’s nothing to discuss, she’s got to go, and she’s got to go soon.”

       Deana dropped her cell phone on the nightstand and rolled back on top of the naked man next to her. Doug sighed, hung up the phone, put his book on the end table and stepped out onto the ornate stone porch to get the Sunday newspaper. There, in the brilliant morning sunshine, was Dot; she was wearing her trademark yellow jacket and making her way into the park. He caught sight of her just as she disappeared behind the hedge row that guarded the pond. Seeing Dot reminded him of the great time they enjoyed the evening before. He wished so much that Deana had more to her than good looks, he longed for the stirring conversation, the wit, wisdom and passion, like the passion that Dot had for things like art, politics … and learning in general. This reminded him that he wanted to get the deadbolt that he’d promised Dot so he could keep his word and install it early in the week. He decided that he’d get some breakfast at his favorite diner and then go to the home improvement superstore to pick up the deadbolt. By the time Doug was starting breakfast, Dot was just getting to her green bench on her way back from Sanderson’s. Where the usual rabble of little creatures assembled to greet her.

       “Hello there, my little friends. How was your night? I had a wonderful evening. I got the chance to sit down and talk to the young man who owns the building I live in. He’s a sweet, polite young man and he assures me that I will never have to move out, but I’m not so sure. I don’t think he makes all the decisions,” she said as she looked at Rocky, who was once again sharing the bench with her, looking at her as though he was listening intently and not just waiting for the next scrap of saltine. “His wife just doesn’t like me. She seems determined to get me to move. I’m afraid of what she might do next. I’m just too old to have to move somewhere new and start over.” Her cracking voice trailed off, as a tear crept down her wrinkled face.

       By the time Doug had finished breakfast and reached the store it was almost eleven. What began as a trip to pick up a dead bolt slowly turned into quite a bit more. He picked up a ceiling fan for Dot’s living room, air conditioning unit to keep her bedroom cool in the coming summer heat, and a garbage disposal to replace Dot’s, which he knew was on it’s last legs. He pulled into the parking lot behind the building and went straight up to knock on Dot’s door; he wanted to put his purchases in her apartment so Deana wouldn’t see them. She’d explode if she knew how much he had spent on the old woman’s apartment. He knew the whole thing was going to come to a head, he just preferred that it be later, rather than sooner.

       “Oh yes Doug, oh my that was so nice of you. I certainly wasn’t expecting all of this.”

       “I want you to be comfortable here. I don’t want you to get any ideas about moving out. I suspect I’m going to be needing an awful lot of advice from you,” he said with a warm, reassuring smile.

       And so it happened, that as Doug Garrity assured Dorothy Scheb that she would never have to move, unsure himself, of whether or not he was making a promise that he could keep, two patrol officers stood, five floors above knocking at his door.

       “It doesn’t look like anyone is home. Should we leave a card?”

       “No! I hate leaving the cards. If I got a card from the police asking me to call them, my stomach would be in knots until I found out what the hell was going on. Let’s take our lunch and then we can come back and try again,” the older officer answered as they walked down the front steps and back towards their cruiser.

       “What happened anyway?”

       “It was right over there,” he answered, pointing across the park, “God damnedest thing I ever heard of. I mean I’ve heard of freak accidents, but this one took the cake. Apparently, this woman was doing about fifty-five down Parkside Drive when a f****n’ squirrel dropped a walnut from a power line that ran across the road. The damned thing hit her in the face and she shot across the road right into a semi.”

 

“Holy s**t! Man that’s bad luck. What are the chances of that?”

Reviews

[Debra Stevens Edwards (..]

I was so moved by this piece that I laughed, wanted to cry and cheered for the squirrel. As always this was a great story. Although I think you put more of your heart into this, It's just so you. Great job and a wonderful read.
Debby

[Phibby Venable]

This story is an excellent read. Compassionate and generous. It has great believability and the dialogue moves right along. I really enjoyed it and I love the surprise ending. Great write.

[Angela Talbert]

Great job, unique in many ways. The suprise ending was brilliant. Some sluggishness in the wording here and there. Overall very good.

[Kristina Moulaison]

Oopsies. I accidentally erased my review of this and now I can't get it back. Silly me. But you know I loved it, so there.

[Diane]

Very well created! I loved the ending (even though it was very sad for Deana!). Any reason why all three characters have names beginning with 'D'. or did it just happen that way? I liked your narration - it moved along smoothly and retained the interest in the story. Although the story was not that long, you managed to define your characters quite well and they each stood out, in their own way. I do hope that Dorothy and Doug enjoyed a pleasant future with each other and, of course, with the squirrels as well. Great story. Diane

[Reality]

hm, this story was interesting, im still trying to figure out the ending. I get it and i dont, but i love your descriptions and the picture painted of the lady with the squirrels. great job, keep it up :)

april