The Balmoria Pen Pals

       The Balmoria never had any glory days. It was a tenement building that was barely maintained enough to keep the building inspectors at bay. A few dollars here and there also helped. The brick exterior was as much of a sign of the years she had seen as the blinking neon bulbs from the ‘20s for the old girl. Fire had hit it more than once in its hundred-year history. Plywood and faux wood paneling covered the damage. Otherwise, it just meant that the rent would be that much cheaper for the next tenant.

            Just like every other day, the desk clerk walked up the stairs to room 224. He was middle-aged, overweight, and balding. He wasn’t a miserable fellow, just indifferent to the world. The only reason why he had this job was because his brother-in-law owned the place. But that was fine. It was a roof over his head and food in his belly. He reached the door and slid the yellowed envelope under it.

            As he descended the stairs, he passed the resident of 224, Will. He wasn’t quiet, always yelling about something, eventhough he did try to keep to himself. Someone one, though, always stuck their nose in his business for some reason. Thin, poorly dressed in a patched-up jacket and pants, it was difficult to guess his age. Most of the time he felt he was just waiting for his final moment to move on from this world.

            Will unlocked the frail door and entered his room. Every year the interior of the room grew that much smaller as the manager applied paint over rotting wallpaper and then wallpaper over moulding paint. He would look up at the water-stained ceiling and pretend he could see constellations in the staining. There was Ursa Major and Minor. There was Cassiopeia. There was the Serpent. His spring mattress bed and a desk fetched from a dumpster with chair and an antique lamp finished the interior décor. Will hoped to find a shelving unit and sneak it past the desk clerk so that his books could stay off of the mildewed carpet.

            As he walked into his room, Will would always call out “Hello, girls! I’m home!” to the various insects and vermin that shared his space. The desk clerk constantly threatened to send up an exterminator to take care of them, but Will always argued no. They were the only family he had.

            Every day was the same to Will. Today, when he walked in, there it was again: an envelope on the floor, slid under the door. An old, yellowed envelope with his name and the building scribbled on it. Will hung his deteriorating long coat on a hook and pulled his suspenders off of his shoulders. He turned back to the door and stared at the envelope. After contemplating it, he picked it up and opened it.

            William, it started. No one called him that. William, I must protest the smell coming from your room. It is truly offensive. We do have standards in this building and I, for one, would appreciate if you could at least keep to the minimum of those standards. Richard.

            Smell? What possible smell could be coming from his room? Who the Hell was Richard? Will opened his door and looked up and down the hallway. 

Did that door just close? 

He marched down the hall and knocked hard on the door.

No answered.

He hit the door hard again.

“I know you’re in there, you self-righteous son-of-a-bitch!”

Will heard the footsteps slowly approach the door. The chain was unhooked, the lock turned, and an old woman appeared before him.

“Who the Hell are you?” She asked.

He stared past her into the room, then to her. He kind of snorted and walked back to his room.

“Crazy, old fool! Fuck Off!” The woman yelled.

Someone was coming out of the bathroom on the floor. A man about his age, greying and unsteady.

“Richard! Go fuck yourself!” Will yelled.

The man hollered back. “I’m not Richard! Dumb ass!”

“Shut the fuck up, already!” Yelled the Old Woman through her door.

Will looked flustered at the man.

“Then who the Hell is Richard?”

The Old Man pushed by him.

“Crackhead,” the Man muttered.

Will scratched his head and went back to his room. He sat down, grabbed the pad of paper he had from the desk drawer, and began to write.

Richard, go to Hell! Will

He took a yellowed envelope from the same drawer, scribbled Richard, The Balmoria on it. He stomped downstairs to the desk clerk.

“What is it now?” The man behind the cage asked. “If you insist on keeping those goddamned pests, I swear, I’ll burn the whole room down with you in it!”

Will thrust the letter towards him.

“Make sure Richard gets this!”

The clerk let out a deep breath and gave Will the eye. Every day, the same thing. One letter to Richard then the next day on e letter to Will. The old man needed help.

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to do it.”

He scrunched the envelope as he took it and left it on his desk.

Will nodded his head. Feeling his work was finished, he headed to his room for his meal.

Two days later, Will opened his door and found a yellowed envelope sitting on the floor. It was addressed to William, The Balmoria. Will studied the envelope. That handwriting looked familiar. He had seen someone scribble it down before. Maybe on the hotel register. If the desk clerk would only tell him what room the bastard was in, he could end this.

Will opened the sleeve and took out the letter.

William, you go to Hell! Your stench is only rivaled by your insolence. Richard.

Will crumpled up the letter and threw it in his waste basket. Or at least where a waste basket would be if he had one. He walked to his desk and pulled out that pad of paper. Looking over the pad, he realized that Richard used the same kind of writing paper. Maybe he’s seen him in the alleys scavenging for materials?

Dick, he started. Yeah, Will was sure he’d hate that one. Dick, you arrogant prick. Your name fits you. Go to Hell. Will.

Will chuckled as he tucked the letter into a yellowed envelope addressed to Richard. He walked downstairs to the desk clerk and thrust the letter at him.

“Give this to Richard!”

The clerk eyeballed him again, took the envelope, and threw it on his desk.

Will marched back upstairs very pleased with himself.

Two days later, Will unlocked his door to a crumpled, yellowed envelope. He narrowed his eyes before he picked it up. Inside was another note.

Willy, it started. The goddamned nerve of this bastard. Willy, suggesting your name reflected your manhood would be an insult to manhood. Richard.

Will steamed.

“Cocksucker!” He yelled.

“Keep it down, old fool!” The woman down the hall answered.

Will went straight to his desk.

Dick, you can take your ‘manhood’ and stick it up your ass. Will.

Again, Will took a yellowed envelope from his desk, addressed it to Richard and marched downstairs. The clerk looked at him, begrudgingly took the envelope, and Will went back to his room.

Two days later, another yellowed envelope with some haughty reply suggesting what the size of his manhood was. Little Willy, he thought as he wrote his angered reply. I’ll show him!

Two days later another yellowed envelope and another reply regarding his stench and his manhood this time. Enough was enough. Will wrote the most scathing answer he could think of. So much so, he was sure his mother would have been ashamed to know him. Into a yellowed envelope it went. Down the stairs he went. The clerk gave him a tired look as he thrust the envelope at him again and Will returned to his room.

The next day, the clerk watched as Will came down the stairs. Will looked quite pleased with himself after the retort he had countered the night before. The clerk’s eyes followed Will as he crossed the disintegrating Persian rug, opened the door, and walked out into his day.

The clerk got up from his seat. He shook his head as he walked up the stairs to Will’s room and slid the letter addressed to Richard under it.

Poor old fool, probably the only thing that makes his day.