A Rented Room

A RENTED ROOM / Anthony Giardina W ALLY'S WAS THE CORNER ROOM; two rooms, in fact, counting the smaU bedroom, with a porch large enough for the two rocking chairs and a view of the old watch factory. He'd Uved there twelve years, through two owners. With Joseph, the new landlord, he'd grown to a position of responsibUity: in exchange for ten doUars weekly off the rent, he swept the haUs and kept a set of keys in case any of the tenants lost theirs and needed to be let into their rooms. Joseph Uved across town, and didn't Uke to be caUed over for every little nuisance. It was not that WaUy needed the extra money so badly: he had been the cook at the Howard Johnson's on Main Street for dose to twenty years. They'd fired him, twice, in the days when he didn't know how to handle the drinking, but both times they'd taken him back. He'd Uved in rented rooms aU his adult Ufe, and having the complete set of keys to this house, whUe it was nothing Uke ownership, made him feel more secure. Once, years before, in another house, during a night when his drinking had become loud and obnoxious, the landlord had come and thrown him out. He'd found himself homeless, at two in the morning. His things had been waiting for him the next day, placed in a neat bundle on the front porch. On those days when Joseph came to make some repair or to pass out the sheets, and WaUy happened not to be at work, it was customary for the landlord to approach WaUy's porch, or knock on his door, for no reason but to talk. Joseph had rented a room on the third floor to a young garage mechanic named Al, and the mechanic liked to give noisy parties and entertain women. Some nights there were complaints that WaUy couldn't handle, and Joseph had to be caUed. So there was always Al to discuss. But after WaUy had made his report, Joseph would often Unger, and WaUy made it his habit to invite him to have a seat on the porch. "You say this Al, he's quieted down some?" Joseph asked one afternoon, not even looking at WaUy, as if he didn't reaUy expect an answer. It was his typical question, and WaUy had already answered it at the doorway a few minutes before. "Oh, yeah," WaUy said. "Ifs a quiet house lately." 258 · The Missouri Review He thought he was speaking just to keep the conversation going. It was the moment when he would have liked to offer Joseph a beer, but, so far as the landlord knew, that part of WaUy's Ufe was over. "Now teU me the truth, WaUy, 'cause you're around more than I am, and maybe you see a Uttle bit more." Joseph turned to him. "Is he the sort of feUa who's going to calm down with the years, or is he one of these types Tm better off just throwing out?" WaUy reacted first, with a kind of flinch, to the hardness in Joseph's attitude; if the mechanic could be thrown out by virtue of WaUy's judgement, could he himself be far behind? But he took a moment before answering, and, searching through Joseph's words for a trace of comfort, grabbed hold of the phrase, "with the years." It seemed to imply that Joseph intended to keep this house, and wished to think of his tenants on a long-range basis. "WeU, in my judgement," WaUy began, choosing deUberately to repeat Joseph's phrase, "with the years, a man settles down." When he was finished, he was not at aU sure of the truth of what he'd said, but he saw the way it had worked on Joseph, and knew it had been the right thing. After Joseph left, WaUy went over the conversation in his head, and for days after, whenever he watched a man or woman his own age passing the house—espedaUy if he noticed in the man...