The Eviction

“I know it was your dog!” His voice rose on every word. 

Mr. Gallagher was accosting Rory in the second-floor stairwell of their apartment building. The elevator stopped working long before Rory moved into an apartment there and she never had any choice but to take the stairs to access her apartment. She mentally steeled herself for his verbal assault. 

“I keep telling you, Mr. Gallagher, it wasn’t him. He’s housebroken, always has been- “The slight quiver in her voice betrayed her. 

“But you’re the only one that lives here with a dog." He cut her off. "It was your dog! I just know it was him!”

Rory slowly eased herself past Mr. Gallagher, gently pulling Guy, her Shih Tzu behind her. Guy wagged his tail amiably and strained against his leash, trying to get close enough to sniff Gallagher’s feet. Gallagher recoiled hostilely from Guy’s advance. Rory continued up the stairs as Gallagher continued down, muttering to himself, “I just know it was him.”

Now in her apartment, Rory released Guy from his leash, and he dashed off to his water bowl. She took a seat on her living room couch and exhaled forcefully. She was getting used to his tirades but still felt drained from the tense moments of interaction with Gallagher.

Her mobile phone pinged in her pocket. She reached for it and saw the text message. It was from her father back home on the farm. She turned the phone off and closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. She pictured her father standing in the barn of the farmhouse looking at the ancient flip phone in his hand, patiently waiting for his daughter to reply.

Rory shook her head, warding off the tears that were threatening to form. She remembered how upset her father had been when she told him that she was going to be moving to the city; even more so when he found out the reason: she would be following her boyfriend. She had been nervous to tell her father about her decision. His opinion of her had always been incredibly important to Rory. One could say he was the proverbial “voice in her head”. But now the mantle had been passed to her boyfriend. He was the one she looked up to now.

He was offered a well-paying job in “some computer thing” that Rory never fully understood. She was a farm girl after all. Everything she knew had to do with farm animals- fattening them and preparing them for the table. She understood her father’s disapproval back then. Rory was an invaluable asset to the farm, especially as her father had begun to slow with age and her mother was not in the best of health.

“He’s a nice boy, I’ll admit Rory." His voice trailed off and he began vigorously wiping an already immaculate screwdriver, avoiding eye contact.

A love blind Rory had answered her father’s unasked questions: they were in love; they would figure it out.

They didn’t figure it out.

At first, the move to the big city was blissfully exciting. Everything was new- she had never stepped outside of the farm and the little town surrounding it before. Her future stood brightly before her. But then she started to notice a difference in her boyfriend a few weeks after arriving- he was becoming distant and aloof. Whenever she admitted to him that she was lonely, he would dismiss her feelings and call her clingy. Mounting frustrations led to an argument that revealed the reason for his altered behavior. He felt that she was holding him back from realizing the full potential in his new life in this new world. To her silent shame, he vocalized her secret insecurity- she was just a farm girl, nothing more. His final words in the argument crushed any hopes of reconciliation: “Let me know when you’re moving back home”.

That night as Rory laid on the couch, tears streaming down her face, she tried to imagine what going back home would look like. Her friends would tilt their heads in empathy as they comforted her. She wouldn’t be able to look her parents in the eye after practically abandoning them. Going home was out of the question. She had frantically searched for a place to rent, took the cheapest place she could find and moved out the following week. 

Farm life made her an adept butcher, a skill which she now used at the local meat shop to earn enough to afford the rent for this apartment. She glanced around it, coming out of her reminiscence. It wasn’t much, she admitted to herself, but she was able to walk to and from work within a few minutes, which was possibly the only perk of living there.

The sound of rustling paper at the front door prompted Guy to rush to it and start barking. Rory could hear retreating steps and a hacking cough. She shook her head and went to retrieve the paper tucked under the door. She read it and then dumped it on top of a pile of similar papers on the small table she used for her keys by the front door. It had a similar message to all of the others there. Some version of “This is a pet free building. Your dog cannot be here. You need to make arrangements to remove it”. She took a moment to ensure that her rental agreement was still at the bottom of the ever-growing stack of papers by the door. She knew it was her trump card and she was pretty sure that Gallagher knew it too.

It was around four weeks ago when he had first seen Rory with Guy in her arms coming up the stairs. “Will the elevator ever be fixed, Mr. Gallagher?” Rory had asked him pleasantly. When she had first moved in, Mr. Gallagher told her that it was in the process of repair. Lugging Guy and all his dog accoutrements up the two stories of stairs was exhausting.

“What on earth is that? A dog?!” He had practically bellowed at her.

“W-w-well yes.” Rory had answered, stunned by his behavior. Even Guy had started whining in her arms. “I adopted him to keep me company. I’ve been a little homesick since leaving home and I thought-“

“This is no pet building! “He interrupted her loudly, spittle flying from his mouth.

She shook her head confused. “I did not see anything about that in the rental agreement.” She countered meekly, shifting from one foot to the other. Guy and his things were heavy, and she was uncomfortable.

“Well it should have been! It’s understood." He started to cough. A harsh, wet, chesty cough.

“Are you okay?” Rory asked, ready to pat him maybe a little too firmly on his back.

“I’m fine!” he said defensively and started slowly moving down the stairs. He lived on the first floor but did daily inspections and collected rent in person from the twenty or so tenants living there.

“Send him back to where you got him, Miss Rory. Pets aren’t allowed. They’re not allowed!” He struggled to get the words out between interjecting coughs.

Feelings of distress began to wash over Rory when she realized what that meant for Guy. “Mr. Gallagher, please, “she pleaded, “I got him from a kill shelter.” She paused, hoping that Gallagher would realize where she was going with this.

He chuckled coarsely, “Aren’t you a butcher?” he asked rhetorically as he continued down the winding stairs.

“He’ll die!” Rory cried out. And with that outburst from her, he stopped. But only briefly, and said softly without looking at her, “We all gotta go sometime”.

A shiver ran up Rory’s spine at his response. Then an unfamiliar boldness came over her. She leaned over the banister to ensure that Gallagher heard her. “The dog stays!” she shouted defiantly, her voice echoing in the stairwell.

Gallagher stopped his descent and looked up silently at Rory. They stared at each other for a few moments before he looked away and continued shuffling down the stairs, coughing and clearing his throat.

***

Rory was awakened to the sound of knocking on her front door that had enough force to rattle it. It was Saturday and she had a day off from the butcher shop. Guy was barking loudly at the door and the combination of knocking and barking hastened her to open it.

It was Gallagher. He was sweaty and red faced and breathing heavily. “He did it again! I told you he did it and now he’s done it again!”

He was obviously talking about Guy who was now wagging his tail and panting happily at their feet.

“What are you talking about, Mr. Gallagher?”

“That dog!” He pointed his stubby index finger at Guy who then jumped up to try to lick it, missing it by far. “He did it again! Right by my doorway! I stepped in it! Again!”

Rory shook her head defiantly, looked down to hide a small smirk and responded slowly and calmly, “Mr. Gallagher, Guy is house trained. He only does his business outside and I’m always with him.”

“Then how do you explain it then? Huh?!” He tilted his head to the right. He looked past her into her apartment.

Rory stepped over into his line of sight. “Simple. Someone else in the building must have a dog.”

“Nonsense! You’re the only rule breaker here!” He shouted and thrusted a piece of paper into her hand. “This is it! I’ve been patient long enough. You and your dog are gone!”

He turned away from her and banged on the door across the hall. “Rent!” he shouted.

Rory retreated into her apartment and studied the paper in her hand. It was a First Notice of Eviction. She surprised herself at how calm she felt reading it. Perhaps it was because she had been preparing for this moment. She gathered her pile of papers from the door side table and spread them out on the couch.

The pile not only included the letters from Gallagher and her rental agreement, but also documents she had slowly been collecting about the rights of tenants. She may not have been computer savvy like her ex, but she knew how to pull up Google on the computer at the butcher shop. Her boss had allowed her to use it during her lunch time.

She found the article from a prominent newspaper that had featured tenants’ rights, especially in cases where a landlord was harassing his tenants about issues not explicitly stated in the rental agreement. She had asterisked the section in the article that stated that complaints against landlords could be lodged at the Rental Board.

She folded it neatly and got dressed. This was her moment. This is what would end it all. Once she showed Gallagher the article and threatened to go to the Board with his letters about Guy and the proof that a “no-pets clause” was not in the rental agreement, he would be forced to call off the eviction and leave her alone for good.

She leashed Guy and hurried down the stairs excitedly. When she got to Gallagher’s door, she was sure to be careful where she stepped but there was no longer anything offensive there.

She knocked as loudly as she could. With the force of her knocking, the door opened slightly. She hesitated and knocked again. Guy began whining and pulling her towards the interior. She pulled him back gently but firmly. The last thing she needed was Gallagher to see Guy inside of his apartment.

“Mr. Gallagher?!” She called into the dark apartment through the ajar door. Guy continued whining, still pulling at his leash. Rory heard a slight shuffling behind the door. She assumed it was Gallagher approaching.

“Mr. Gallagher,” she said loudly, “I need to talk to you about this eviction letter. You see I-“

At this moment, Guy jerked his leash out of her hand, pushed the door open with his head and ran into Gallagher’s apartment.

“Guy!” she called after him, panicked. She peered into the dark apartment cautiously.

“Guy?!" She hissed. Maybe she could retrieve him without alerting Gallagher. She could hear Guy whining behind the door.

“Guy?" She called softly, now looking behind the door.

Gallagher was lying on the ground, on his left side, breathing shallowly. His eyes were wide in alarm, staring up at her. His mouth was moving but nothing but gurgling sounds were coming out of it as drool pooled onto his cheek. Guy was beside him, licking his hands.

Rory dropped to her knees beside him and pulled out her cell phone from her pocket. She paused ever so briefly as several thoughts ran through her mind. She thought about how awful he had been to her and how willing he was to send Guy back to the kill shelter. She thought about how moments before he had served her an eviction notice. She thought about her ex and his treatment of her. She thought about how sad she had been since coming here. She thought about how disappointed her parents had been when she left. She shook her head to stop her spiraling thoughts and called the police.

“Don’t worry Mr. Gallagher. Help is coming. “

Guy lay down on the floor beside Gallagher and rested his head on his freckled hand. Rory looked around as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of Gallagher’s apartment. The walls were bare except for a small certificate awarded to him for long service as a compliance officer, for some company she couldn’t read from her vantage point.

Her brow furrowed as she surveyed the room. There were various medical paraphernalia, including an oxygen tank and mask. She had a vague recollection of her mother using one to help her breathe when she first became ill. It was around that time that her parents had given away their house cat. The doctor had said something about the fur making it harder for her mother to breathe.

A table nearby was overflowing with medicine bottles. A half empty one was behind Gallagher’s body; perhaps it had fallen out of his hand when he had collapsed or fallen. She picked it up and squinted to read the label. “For the treatment of chronic obstructive lung disease”. She sat back on her haunches and looked at Gallagher. His eyes were no longer filled with fear. They looked softer, more pleading. She looked at Guy beside him and noticed tiny pieces of fur caught in air currents floating around him.

Rory started to feel something resembling remorse and sympathy. “I didn’t know.” She said softly, just as the paramedics burst into the room. 

A week later Rory was allowed to visit Gallagher in the hospital. She had come by the hospital every day after work since the incident but was told that he was in no state to receive visitors. Since neither family nor friends had come to see him, the nurse had let it slip to Rory that he had an episode with his breathing that caused him to lose oxygen supply to his brain, which caused him to collapse.

Now at the hospital room door, she studied him through the glass. He looked small and vulnerable, and Rory wondered if that vulnerability extended inwards. She knocked gently and entered. “Hi, Mr. Gallagher.” She greeted him softly.

He looked away from the television mounted on the wall of his room. “Miss Rory.” He acknowledged her formally.

“I just wanted to check on you. See how you’re doing.”

“The food is terrible.”

So much for vulnerability, Rory thought. “Well just wanted to say hi”. She turned to leave.

“Miss Rory?” He called after her. She turned to face him. He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I guess I should say thank you for helping me. Ironic that it was that dog of yours that found me.”

Rory smiled and nodded. Maybe this was actually the trump card she needed.

“I wanted to give you something.” He weakly reached over to the bedside table for a crisp white envelope.

“Here.” He extended his hand. Rory realized that this was the most cordial he had ever been to her. Now that Guy practically saved his life perhaps they could get along. Maybe even become friendly. She felt her spirits lift- everything since moving to the city had been a struggle. Hopefully this moment will be a reset, she thought. She opened the envelope, promising herself that she wouldn’t cry when she read his thank you letter.

“You are living in a pet free building. This is a second Eviction notice” was scribbled untidily on the paper.

She slowly looked up from the note. Gallagher was looking at her smugly. Gone was the vulnerable and small man she had watched from the door. He shrugged nonchalantly. “Rules are rules Miss Rory.”

Rory balled up the paper in her hand and slowly walked towards Gallagher’s bed, her eyes narrowed. She smirked as she whispered three words into his ears which caused him to start coughing violently, gasping and unable to catch his breath:

“It was him”.