The Landlords.
A short story by Robert Cormack.
“A whole stack of memories never equal one little hope.” Charles M. Schulz
I’d just moved into the main floor of old Victorian house, a big place divided into upper and lower units. Four young flight attendants were above me. They came in at all hours. One night we arrived home at the same time. They introduced themselves. The two girls were Jacqueline and Elaine, pretty, early thirties. The two boys were Claude and and Howie. They both wore their hair short at the back and long at the front. They giggled a lot.
“Come up and have a glass of wine,” Jacqueline said, already going up the stairs. I told her I had to get changed. They were uncorking the wine when I came upstairs. Claude and Howie kept elbowing each other.
“Don’t mind them,” Jacqueline said. “They’re gay—in case you hadn’t noticed.” That only made Claude and Howie elbow each other more. “Knock it off, you two,” she said. “We have a guest.” She’d tied her hair up in a scarf and was making crepes. It turned out they were all French Canadian.
One night, a john held a knife to one of the prostitute’s throats. This was out on the front lawn.
They’d been there about a year, and had many stories. One involved a prostitute living next door. Hearing a noise one night, Jacqueline looked out to see a john holding a knife to the prostitute’s throat. Police came and found him hiding in one of the garbage cans. He was wanted on two outstanding warrants.
“I told Steve and Holly we want better locks,” Jacqueline said. “Imagine something like that happening right next door.”
Steve and Holly were our landlords. Whenever something broke in the house, they’d show up, smiling away. They’d come by every week or so. Mostly they talked about their new house out in Etobicoke. Holly claimed they were still getting settled, even suggesting we should join them for dinner some night. Then they looked at each other like this was a flash of inspiration. “How about next Friday night?” Holly said.
As it happened, we were all around, Jacqueline and Elaine coming off international flights, Claude and Howie waiting for their new schedules. So Friday came along, and we drove over there. The house was a low-slung ranch affair with the garage dropping down on one side. The garage door was open. There was a solid wall of moving boxes.
Boxes were everywhere, on tables, on the kitchen counter. Somehow they’d managed to cook a roast which, according to Holly, wasn’t nearly ready yet.
Holly was waiting at the door. “Hey there,” she said, gesturing us into the living room. Boxes were everywhere, on tables, on the kitchen counter. Somehow they’d managed to cook a roast which, according to Holly, wasn’t nearly ready yet. She served crackers and cheese, Steve poured wine. A Carpenters record was playing on the stereo.
“We’ll have to eat on our laps,” Holly said, the two of them scrunching together on one chair. They hadn’t set up the dining room yet. According to them, there just wasn’t time with this and that. “We have a lot of stuff to go through,” she said. “We’ll get to these boxes eventually.”
“It’s not like we’re hoarders or anything,” Steve said, closing the curtains and turning the stereo down. “Most of it’s memorabilia.” He was wearing one of those button-down sweaters. Holly had cartoons on her pink sweatshirt. When Steve sat down, she squeezed his hand, both of them looking around like all these boxes were their kids or something. Maybe they were.
“I love memories,” Holly said. “Don’t you guys?”
“Honey,” he said, giving her a wink, “I live for memories. Dirtier the better.” Howie laughed out loud and covered his mouth.
Claude had already finished his first glass of wine. His face was flushed. He looked at Howie, then Holly. “Honey,” he said, giving her a wink, “I live for memories. Dirtier the better.” Howie laughed out loud and covered his mouth.
“Ignore them,” Jacqueline said, picking a piece of cheese off the cracker. She was always on a diet, Elaine was trying to gain weight. Somehow that made them good friends. “Whatever you’re cooking smells wonderful,” Elaine said to Holly. Holly gave her one of her big smiles.
“I should go check on the roast,” she said. They both got up at that point, Holly going to the kitchen, Steve going to the basement. Claude whispered to us, “What’s downstairs?” He started moving around the room. He was reading the labels on the boxes.
“Stop snooping,” Jacqueline said.
Eventually the food was served, each of us getting a plate and a napkin with silverware rolled up. We ate with our knees together. Claude kept saying it was his most unflattering position. He was finishing his second glass of wine. “Excuse me for asking, darling,” he said to Holly, “but what’s downstairs? If it’s leather and whips, I’m all in. Howie, too. We tag team.”
Jacqueline told him to knock it off. “We’re a bit jet lagged,” she told Holly, and Holly said she understood. She and Steve had been to Thailand two years ago. The distance was murder. “We know about that,” Jacqueline said. “We’re been to Thailand. How long did you stay?”
“Just two days,” Holly said. “We were on our way to Bali. We have pictures.”
“So do we,” Claude laughed, and Jacqueline elbowed him in the side. “Ow,” he said. “You’ve got pictures, too, bitch.”
“Go down and make yourselves comfortable,” she said. “Steve’s got everything ready to go. Be prepared,” she said.
Holly and Steve were collecting dishes, saying we should move downstairs. “That’s where the excitement is,” she told us. Steve gave a laugh. Then he was going down the hall. “Follow the leader,” Holly said to us. “I’ll bring down the popcorn.” Jacqueline and Elaine offered to help, but Holly said she had everything under control. “Go make yourselves comfortable,” she said. “Steve’s got everything ready. Be prepared,” she said.
Claude was grabbing the wine bottle and Howie the glasses. As Claude passed Jacqueline, he said, “Well, she said be prepared, sweetie.”
At the bottom of the basement stairs, a path was created between the boxes to a cleared area. On a patio table in the middle sat an old eight millimetre film projector. Seven plastic lawn chairs were set up with a screen at the other end. Jacqueline and Elaine sat down. Claude and Howie kept looking at the boxes. Sitting on top of one were two cameras, a Canon and a Bell & Howell. Steve was plugging in an extension chord.
“You collect old cameras?” I asked him.
“A few,” he said. “I have three Hasselblads in one of the boxes.”
“And what do you do with these cameras, pray tell?” Claude asked.
“Shoot stuff,” Steve said. “Holly and I like recording our adventures. I thought you’d be the same, travelling all over the world the way you do.”
“Oh, we’ve had a few adventures,” Claude winked.
Holly came downstairs with two big bowls of popcorn. Steve was still fiddling with the projector. The screen was one of the old folding kind like we had back in high school.
“Are we about to see a naughty honeymoon?” Claude asked.
“Is this your trip to Bali?” Elaine asked.
“Our wedding first,” Holly said.
“Are we about to see a naughty honeymoon?” Claude asked.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Holly replied.
“Is everyone ready?” Steve asked.
“Ready as Freddy,” Claude said.
Steve started the projector and turned out the lights. Next thing we saw was Steve and Holly coming out of the church. Friends and family stood there all happy. The camera panned to a limousine with a floral wreath on the trunk and tin cans tied to the bumper. The next scene was the limousine pulling up at a subway entrance. Holly and Steve jumped out.
“This is our moment of rebellion,” Holly said. In the film, they ran to the turnstiles, then down the stairs. Steve’s brother was doing the filming. The footage was pretty shaky. Next, they were on a ferry, in shorts and t-shirts, somewhere in Greece. Who was shooting? Was Steve’s brother with them?
“We’re purists,” Holly said.
“We just asked people to film us,” Holly said.
“Nobody knew one end of a Super Eight from another,” Steve said. He kept adjusting the focus. “It was pretty funny, actually.”
“Why didn’t you just use your phone?” Claude asked.
“We’re purists,” Holly said.
The camera panned up to a cliff face overlooking the ocean.
“This is where we got a bit crazy,” Holly said.
The film showed Steve standing on a cliff platform, Holly below him. They were both very white.
“Nice legs,” Claude said. “You, too, Holly.”
Steve jumps off the cliff, the camera follows. He emerges, raising his hands in triumph.
“Wait’ll you see what happens next,” Holly said.
“Did Stevie lose his flimsy little trunks?” Claude asked.
“Worse,” Holly said, “I jumped and lost my top. Look, there’s Steve getting it. We swam around and found ourselves on a nude beach.”
“They don’t exactly card you, sweetie,” Claude said.
“Oh, do show that,” Claude said. “You doffed, of course.”
“Are you kidding?” Holly said. “We’re not nudists.”
“They don’t exactly card you, sweetie,” Claude said.
Claude and Howie were getting fidgety. They’d had three glasses of wine at this point. Now they were asking Steve if they could use one of his film cans as an ashtray. Steve said there was no smoking in the house. Claude asked if they could smoke outside. “We’d rather you didn’t,” Holly said. Claude and Howie crossed their arms and stuck out their legs.
“Here we are swimming again,” Holly said.
“Wow,” Howie said. “Been doing crunches, Stevie?”
Claude and Howie were poking each other. Jacqueline kept giving them a look. She took their wine glasses and put them between her and Elaine on the floor. Claude and Howie wouldn’t stop goofing around, making silly comments. Steve finally turned off the projector. “Maybe everyone’s had enough,” Steve said to Holly.
“You think we’re self-indulgent, don’t you?” Holly said.
“Sorry,” Jacqueline said. “We’re all a bit tired.”
“Speak for yourself, sweetheart,” Claude said. “We’re just waiting for these two to get off the beach and into the sack. Or is all this smiling and waving a kinky prelude?”
Holly’s expression changed. Maybe it was directed at Claude, maybe at all of us. “You think we’re self-indulgent, don’t you?” Holly said. “What’s wrong with memories? One day we’ll have kids and they’ll want to see what Mommy and Daddy did.”
“Well, honey,” Claude said, “we’d all like to see what Mommy and Daddy did.”
“You’re not funny,” Holly said.
She stood up and disappeared upstairs.
“I guess that’s it for one night,” Steve said.
“Oh, dear,” Claude said. “Are we being shown the door?”
“It’s getting late,” Steve said.
“We’re really sorry,” Elaine said to Steve. “All this flying does a number on us. We really like your house.”
We went upstairs, got our coats, Steve opened the front door. Claude and Howie went out first. As they passed, Claude winked at Steve, which didn’t go over very well. Steve gave him a cold stare. Claude just shrugged, and the rest of us followed, Elaine being the last. “We’re really sorry,” Elaine said to Steve. “All this flying does a number on us. We really like your house.”
“Thanks,” he said with no expression. “We like it, too.”
As we drove off, we could see Steve through the picture window turning out the lights. Holly was in the bedroom, her shadow moving back and forth. We sat there watching, Claude and Howie lighting cigarettes in the back seat. Elaine opened her window. She told the guys to blow their smoke the other way.
“That was embarrassing,” Jacqueline said to me.
“I don’t know what they expected,” I said.
“We could’ve been nicer,” she said. “I’m not sure how, but I guess we could’ve been more enthusiastic or something. Don’t you think?”
“How enthusiastic can you be about someone else’s life?” I asked.
We got home and had drinks upstairs. The “boys,” as Jacqueline liked to call them were hungry again. She warmed up some crepes, spooning fruit compote on them. Pretty soon, we were all eating crepes and talking about Steve and Holly and those crazy home movies.
“And say what?” Claude asked. “We’re just not Brady enough for you bunch? Steve has a nice bunch, by the way.”
“I feel sorry for them in a way,” Elaine was saying. “I mean, I like them, don’t get me wrong. They’re just so hung up on their memories. Imagine if we were like that every time we flew. We’d have pictures coming out our ears.”
“We should call and apologize tomorrow,” Jacqueline said.
“And say what?” Claude asked. “We’re just not Brady enough for you bunch? Steve has a nice bunch, by the way.”
“We should still call,” Elaine said and looked at me. “Don’t you think?”
“I’ll leave it to you,” I said. “I’m not sure what I’d say.”
I finished my drink and went downstairs. The next day, I ran into Jacqueline at the front door. She’d called Holly and Steve to apologize. “They’re okay,” she said, then told me Holly was pregnant. They wanted to make the announcement last night, only Claude had ruined the moment.
“That’s our Claude,” she said. She was heading off to the airport with Elaine. Claude and Howie had an evening flight. “Let’s have dinner when we get back,” she said. Elaine was coming downstairs with her bags.
“Thanks,” Holly said. “We’ll have you over when I’m big as Shrek.”
A cab pulled up. They got in and waved. I went to get groceries. When I got home, there was a message on the machine from Holly and Steve. They thanked me for coming to dinner. I called back and congratulated them on being pregnant.
“Thanks,” Holly said. “We’ll have you guys over when I’m big as Shrek.”
“Keep us posted,” I said.
I was hanging up when I heard Claude and Howie on the stairs. My door was open. They saw me put the phone down.
“That was Holly,” I said. “She said they’ll have us over when she’s big as Shrek.”
“I’ll bet Steve’s big as Shrek,” Claude said.
Then he winked. What else could I do at that point? I winked back.
Robert Cormack is a satirist, novelist, and blogger. His first novel “You Can Lead a Horse to Water (But You Can’t Make It Scuba Dive)” is available online and at most major bookstores. You can read Robert’s other stories and articles at robertcormack.net.
