"Untenable"

“So where are you going after the lease ends?”

“Aren’t you renewing yours?”

“Nah, man. I’m trying to get out of here.”

“Alright, that’s fine.”

I’d only met these guys a year ago. I don’t need to follow them everywhere like a dog. Just got to get us home, and then I can hide in my room again.

Couple minutes later, we’re home. “Night, fellas.” Same old, same old. A beer sounds nice right about now… 

“Oh, hey Charles.”

“What’s good?” Nothing much, now, but Philip doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m alright. What are you having for dinner?”

I realize I’ve been staring slack-jawed at an empty pan for the past who-knows-how-long. That’s embarrassing. “Probably a sandwich or something, I dunno.” Philip walks away, leaving me alone.

I don’t care hard enough to make the sandwich. Time for some whiskey. It tastes good, I’ve convinced myself, because it’s cheap. I go back to my room, crack a bottle, crack a window, and lay on my bed. 

----------------

Is the phone ringing louder than normal? 

“Hello?” I pick it up lazily.

“Hi, Charles. I’m just calling to ask if you’d like to renew your lease.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“Alright, thanks. Rent will stay the same. We might bring some people through for tours later today. Can we show them your room, even though you’re staying here?”

“I guess. Yeah.”

“Thank you. See you later, Charles.”

I roll out of bed. If they’re showing off my room, I’d better clean up. Where did I put the trash bags? To my right is a can of air freshener. If someone else is gonna be coming in here, I’d better use that.

When I’ve left my room, I find that there’s a bunch of bags and boxes piled up in the kitchen. Terence is standing over them. “Hey, Char.”

“Morning.” I wish he wouldn’t call me that. Sounds stupid.

“You all packed up?”

“Nah, I’m staying. Didn’t find a place.” That’s not a lie. I didn’t look for a place. I looked for a job. Guess who wasn’t hiring?

He chuckles. “Suit yourself, man.”

I don’t feel like eating much, so I throw a slice of bread in the toaster and grab the newspaper. Saturday issue, so an easier crossword. This might be the last Saturday morning I have for a while, so I’d better savor it. I go back to my room. I need to eat, but the crossword is more interesting right now. The only price I ever pay is the rent.

A couple hours later, there’s a sharp knock on my door before it opens wide. A few people, including the landlords, are standing outside.

“This is Charles’ room. He’s the only one of the tenants who renewed his lease.”

“Hi, Charles! I’m June!” says a blonde woman peering into my room. I wave silently. She must be one of the new roommates. There’s another girl behind her, but she doesn’t say anything. I’ll learn all their names eventually.

----------------

8:30 pm. Time to leave for work. Lauren is outside the room with one of her friends, chatting about something that sounds kinda interesting. I’m already late, though, so I don’t have time to listen.

Crash on the highway. Merge all five lanes down into the right. Fifteen extra minutes. Whoever had the shift before me, probably Kyle, is gonna be angry. Hopefully the crash clears out at the end of my shift. Don’t wanna get home at 9 am again.

“Screw you, Charles.” Kyle greets me warmly.

“You too, buddy.” I head to the back with him to fill out the timesheet.

“I’m not playing around, man. Next time you come in this late, I’m gonna hurt you.”

“Can’t wait. Have a good night.”

Kyle is one of the nicest guys I’ve known in this city. He’s consistent, and I can rely on him for favors. At least, he said I could when I met him. Hope that’s still true.

The night shift at a gas station sucks, but they were hiring, and it’s not too long of a drive from the house. Plus, they let me have discounts on gas and beer. Speaking of which, it’s time for my shift beverage. I walk over to the aisle, and grab some kind of lager I don’t remember seeing. Must be some new stock. Ring it up, there goes last night’s tips. First sip is fantastic. Second sip, a little less so. Third sip tastes like piss. Time to gulp the rest down.

At about 2-ish, a man I vaguely recognize comes in. Was he in a class with me? No, I knew him somewhere else. Hopefully he doesn’t recognize me.

“Charles?”

“Hey, man, how’ve you been?”

“Been better. How about yourself?”

“Same here. Just the cough drops?”

“Yeah, not feeling too great. Must be a cold. My girlfriend’s been out the past few days.”

“You should try this beer we just got. Pretty good stuff.” I pull out my own bottle to show him.

“Lager, huh? I don’t know if I can stomach that right now.”

“I’m telling you, it’s life-changing.” It sucks, but he looks like he needs something to take his mind off things.

“How much is it?”

“One dollar. Friends and family discount, let’s call it.”

“Wow, you’re the best, Charles!” He runs to the beer aisle to grab one.

I shrug confidently, and ring him up. “Have a good night.”

“See you around.” He walks out the door, and he disappears into the dark night. It takes a couple minutes, but I finally remember his name is Darrel. When I lived with him about 4 years ago, I probably would’ve had a better memory. Crazy how things change, etc. etc.

It’s almost time for me to clock out, but I can’t let down Kyle. He’s got the shift after me, and I gotta keep up my connections. I toss my beer in the trash and saunter over to the back office to fill out a timesheet.

On the drive home, the radio suddenly cuts out, and the harsh sound of static overpowers the music. In fact, the music completely goes away. That’s weird. This station never has issues. Newspaper’s still on the doormat when I get home. I pick it up, and head in for some light reading before I pass out.

WTSC TOWER HIT BY PLANE, according to The Chronicle. Just kidding. That would be wild, though. The headline is some garbage about a local politician’s fifth extramarital affair. Why do they keep voting these people in? We knew he was an unfaithful scumbag anyway. Is his policy good? I don’t know. Who cares? That whiskey sounds real good right now. No it doesn’t, it tastes like rancid honey. Two shots should do it.

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When I open my eyes one morning a few months later, the first thing I hear is the birds chirping outside. Must be a warm day out. Is it spring already? A quick glance out the window tells me that it is. I lay there for a few minutes, until someone knocks on my door.

I open my door, and a guy with pink hair and a leopard-print jacket is standing outside. Some kind of pimp? Nah, can’t be. Friend of Lauren’s? She’s a theater student, probably knows some oddballs. Wait. Is Lauren a hooker?

“Hello…?”

“Hello.” 

“Are you a friend of Lauren’s?”

“Who’s Lauren?” I can hear the disdain in his voice. “I’m here to view the house. Nathan said someone would be here to show me around?”

That must be what the landlord called me about last night. I don’t remember that conversation very well, but he sounded rather sick. Hope he’s alright. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Let me put on some clothes real quick.” I close the door, and throw on some jeans and a green t-shirt before stepping out.

“Welcome to the kitchen. I do all my cooking here.” I gesture to the empty fridge. “Stove works, microwave works, dishwasher’s been broken for two years, the works.”

“Broken for two years?”

“Yeah, but I don’t use many dishes anyway, so I just wash them by hand.”

“What about the other three residents?”

“Who cares?” 

Leopard guy quirks an eyebrow at that.

No one else is home, so we waltz on in to the other three rooms. They’re pretty nicely furnished. Coordinated furniture, cool decor on the walls, one of them even has a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. A couple of the books on there look interesting, too. Infinite Jest, Gravity’s Rainbow, and a few others I can’t read the titles of.

“Charles?”

“Yeah, so this is one of the rooms, you know, i-it’s not bad, you know…”

“I get the point.” Leopard guy turns to leave.

“Wait, Leopard, you haven’t even seen the basement!”

“What did you call me?

“Well, I don’t know your name, but you’re wearing a leopard-print jacket.”

“It’s a cheetah print.” There’s a difference? “I’ve seen enough, by the way.” He walks away briskly.

Shockingly, he ends up moving in, along with two other people whose names I can’t recall, and whose fashion senses are much quieter. His name is Avery, by the way. He’s still catty as ever, but sometimes he offers me food when I’m too drunk to use the stove, and that’s more than anyone ever does for me.

----------------

In the evenings before work, I stare at myself in the mirror for a while, and I don’t really know who’s staring back. I have a business degree. What am I doing with myself? Why do I look like I haven’t spoken to another human in a decade? It’s ‘cause of the facial hair, I bet. I’ll shave tomorrow, I gotta get to work, etc. etc. I brush my teeth so I don’t have bad breath, and I floss my teeth since my dad told me when I was a kid that that’s what saved his teeth. Somehow, I’ve never had a cavity. Guess I’m just lucky, or something. 

I leave the bathroom, and Avery is sitting on the couch with his arm around a guy I’ve never seen before.

“See you ‘round.” I nod in his direction.

“Have a good night, Charles.”

It’s summer, so the sun is just now setting at the start of my shift. Would be a real nice view, if you were to be looking west. Is it west? Rises in the east, sets in the west. Not that it matters. The gas station points south.

My manager, Charles, walks in. I think he told me last week he would be visiting everyone this week to check up on us. Maybe I’m due for a raise.

“Charles?”

“Sir?”

“You notice how fast we’ve been running out of that new lager?”

“I told you it was good, man.”

“What’s interesting is that only a couple bottles have been sold. Do you know why that might be?”

I know exactly why. “I don’t know. I just watch the place.”

“When you take out the trash, do you ever notice all the broken and half-empty bottles around the dumpster? I mean, are people stealing this stuff under your nose or something?”

“What about Kyle? What if he’s drinking it?”

“Kyle hasn’t had a drink in two years.”

That’s right, he’s Kyle’s AA sponsor. “Okay, so it’s not him. What about, uh…”

“Janice is due in two months. You know this.” He sighs. “We have security cameras. I know you’ve been drinking nearly all of these yourself.”

I look past him, towards the back of the store.

“I mean, I thought I was pretty nice letting you off with just a warning when you forgot to close the cash register. But you’ve continued to take advantage of me, and my store, and it’s not gonna go on.”

I suppose it’s time, so I walk out of the building. Behind me, Charles tells me my final paycheck is coming in the mail, and to never come there again. I start the car, and the fuel light turns on. Real funny.

No one is in the house when I get back. I’d start looking through the classifieds, but the newspaper hasn’t come yet. Hey, maybe I can be a paperboy. I can use a bike, and then I won’t have to worry about gas. Where could I get a bike? Tomorrow, I’ll go to the store, find a cheap one for now. Who do I even contact about delivering papers? Seems like a day-after-tomorrow problem. Baby steps, etc. etc. I’ll just take a nap for now.

----------------

Is the phone ringing louder than normal? 

“Hello?” I pick it up.

“Hi, Charles. I’m calling to ask if you’d like to renew your lease.”

“What do you think? Wait, who is this, anyway?” The voice asking this question sounds a lot deeper than last year.

“If you do, your rent will go down by fifty dollars.”

“I said, who is this?”

“I’m the homeowner, Nate Jr.”

“What happened to Nathan?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t read the news,” I lied. “What happened?”

“Let’s not get into it. Again, if you stay, your rent will go down by fifty dollars.”

“I’ve been here long enough, might as well. Sure, whatever.”

“Thank you, Charles.”

“Anyone coming to tour?”

“Not yet. If you could find someone, that would be a huge help.”

I hang up. I don’t have anything else to say to him, and besides, I already told him I would renew. Hopefully he doesn’t evict me or whatever it is landlords can do to tenants.

What was it that happened last night? Boss came in… shift beverages… that’s right. Guess I have to look for a job. Preferably one I can get to without driving. Maybe if I get a bike, I can do pizza delivery. Maybe I won’t have to spend as much on food, if I can eat at my job.

I roll out of my bed, and head to the front door to grab the newspaper. I skip past the actual news and head directly for the classifieds. Nothing good, except a small ad in the corner for jobs with the newspaper. Huh. I could be a paperboy. I’d still need a bike, but I could probably get a cheap one for now.

----------------

It’s raining outside, and by the time I get to my car, my shoes are already soaked. There’s probably just enough gas left in my tank to get to the department store, but maybe not back. With cash in pocket, I hit the road at a leisurely pace to save fuel. Not like I have commitments anymore. 

The store is surprisingly busy for a Thursday. I park at the back, and take my flask and my registration out of the glovebox. I don’t have any intentions of taking this car back home. It’s been a good time with it, but it’s time to say goodbye. Across the parking lot, mothers are holding bags in one hand, and children with the other. A few guys are carrying a couch. People who seem to generally care about themselves.

One of the lights near the entrance of the store is flickering and buzzing loudly. I make a beeline for the back of the store. Seems like bicycles would be there.

“Ow! Watch it, man!”

I turn my head to look at the red-haired teenager I’ve bumped into. I shoot an annoyed glare and continue walking. No time for niceties right now, I have an objective.

Sports equipment begins to show up in the aisles I’m walking through, so I figure I’m near the right place. Sure enough, there they are. There’s a row of big, solid-colored ones at the top. Those look expensive, so I go further down. Children’s bikes with bright colors and designs. $150 for one that looks like I’d at least fit on it. It’s red, with white lightning bolts emblazoned on the frame, and bold text reading “SIDEWINDER”. I take it off the rack, and adjust the seat to my height.

It’ll work for a while. 

----------------

Very hard bike ride home. Whether that has to do with the distance, or the bike itself, or both, I don’t know. Hopefully that’s not the kind of ride I’m making regularly. I bring the bike all the way into my room. I don’t have anything else to put here. I reach for the newspaper to find the number I saw earlier, and dial it.

“The Chronicle. How can I direct your call?”

“I’m looking for a job.”

“Who am I speaking to?”

“Charles Foster. I’m looking to deliver newspapers.”

“How early can you show up?”

“Anytime.”

“4:30 in the morning?”

“Fine. Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Sure thing.” I hang up. I wonder if they’re just that desperate, or if they’re looking to interview me. Trial by fire, I suppose.

----------------

It’s still dark out when I wake up. The clock says 3:46. Good timing. I have a general idea of where The Chronicle’s office is, but it’ll take some time to get there. 

I head out with the new bike. Though the seat is as high as it can go, it’s still too short. Not unusable, until I can get something better, but not great, either. As far as I know, I have to go about 15 blocks down my street, and then I’ll be around the right place.

The streetlamps cast a sickening yellow light over everything. I try not to think too hard about what’s around me. Exposed to the cold night air like this, I realize I hate this place. 

The office looks dark from the outside, as if nobody’s inside. I open the door anyway, and the receptionist snaps awake.

“I called yesterday about a job.”

“Hmm… Foster?”

“It’s Charles, but yes.”

“My apologies. Sit down over there, the boss’ll be out shortly.” She points to a row of faded pink chairs. I take a seat.

A few minutes later, a large man with a pinstripe shirt and suspenders emerges from the darkness.

“Charles.”

“Hello.”

He extends a hand. “Good to meet you. The name’s George.”

I shake his hand.

“So what brings you to The Chronicle?”

“Need a job.”

“Well, after today, you might have one. Ever deliver papers before?”

“No.”

“What’s your vehicle?”

“Bicycle.”

“Hm. We might have to put you on a shorter route for now.”

“That’s fine.”

“Follow me.” He goes past me, out the door, and I follow him.

“How well do you know this town, Charles?”

“I can get around.”

“Fine. You’re going to be delivering in the Eagle Pond neighborhood.” Pretty ritzy neighborhood. “Around the side, you’ll pick up your papers.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out some pieces of paper, flips through them, and hands me one. “These are the houses that are our subscribers in that area. Put a paper in the mailbox, and come back as soon as you can.”

----------------

All the houses in this neighborhood are very nice, but everyone who lives in them works out of town. They never show their faces. At least you get to know people in the slums. These kinds of places, you might live next to someone for twenty years and never know their name.

The first house on my route is on a small hill. The mailbox has a white box under it for the newspaper. I throw one in, and keep going. Sun still hasn’t come up yet. Likely won’t for another few hours, and I’ll be done by then. I’ll go to work when it’s dark, finish work when it’s dark, and go to sleep until it’s almost dark again. Sounds like the gas station, but even worse. At least there, I’d talk to people. No one’s up right now.

Thirty or forty houses later, I’m done. Time to head back. Legs are tired, but I gotta get home somehow.

George greets me with too wide a smile.

“So how was your first day?”

“Fine.”

He hands me a fifty-dollar bill. “Will I be seeing you tomorrow?”

“Probably.”

“Remember, 4:30 sharp. Any later, I can’t guarantee you a route.”

“Who else will do it?”

“One of the kids.”

“Mmm.”

I turn around to leave. I guess it makes sense that I’m replaceable. I’ve only done one day, after all. Why’d he take me on, though, if he has kids who are more eager to work for less money? Does he feel sorry for me? I hate when people feel sorry for me. Save it for people who don’t choose to be how they are.

The thought of a glass of whiskey pops into my head. I’ll have that when I get home.

----------------

Three days later, I’m in the same neighborhood. My next stop is a house whose facade is made up of deep red bricks. There’s a person sitting on the front porch. Odd thing to see in this area at this hour. I sit on my bike for a minute, gazing up at whoever is sitting there. Nothing happens. 

I reach into my basket slowly, as if the mysterious stranger is going to run down and bite me. Nothing happens. I lean to the side to put the paper into the mailbox. Nothing happens. I grab my pen, and look down to cross this house off the list. I look back up, and the shadow is gone.

I have to get out of here.

----------------

A week later, I’ve already gotten sick of this job. Same houses, same people, same streetlights, same everything. Same unreasonably bright smile.

“Will I be seeing you tomorrow?”

My heart sinks. He probably will, won’t he?

“No.”

George is taken aback. “What?”

“Listen, I appreciate the job, but I’m done.”

“I thought you needed a job.”

“Not gonna be this one.”

The receptionist stifles a laugh. George hands me a fifty, and just kind of stares at me. As I turn to leave, I feel less in control. The door closes, but I can hear both of them laughing about how I couldn’t handle it. They don’t know why I’m leaving. Not that I do, but something is telling me it wasn’t good, anyway.

I pick up the phone and dial my landlord. I have to get out of here.

“Why are you calling me at six in the morning?”

“I’m not renewing my lease.”

“...Charles?”

“Speaking.”

“Charles, what? Your lease ends in four months. What are you doing? Call me when it’s not still dark out.”

“I’m moving out. Thank you for everything.” I hang up, put on my coat, and grab the bottle of whiskey. I leave my room, and lock the door. I’m gonna head east until I can’t anymore. I hop on my bike.

Down the street, there’s a big puddle on the road. I slow down, so I can avoid it. Drops fall down from the tree above, and ripples form across the water. I reach into my pocket, and grab my house key. It’s the same one I’ve had for years. That ends today, I think, as I throw it into the puddle.

© 2025 Ian Devenish