The Incompatible Tenant

Amy rented a room in her house to Peter, but she never fell in love with him like she had done with the others.

He was a good tenant, sort of, until he broke one of her rules … don’t smoke pot on her property.

Amy could smell it when she returned from work on Tuesday. When she turned the corner onto Applegate Street and was about six houses away from her own, there was the distinct smell of marijuana in the air. She instantly knew where it was coming from.

Peter was home in all his fragrant glory sitting on the patio, staring (not just looking) at the hills that rose into view over the neighbor’s fence. He seemed relaxed and happy being outdoors and was definitely oblivious to the wafting smell of weed that he was producing for the benefit of the surrounding neighborhood.

Amy looked at him relaxing in the sun and said, “Peter, we talked about this.”

Startled, he looked up through the slits in his eyes and softly growled, “Oh, yeah, we did.”

He paused as he thought about what just happened and lowered his head. “I’ll be out of here in a week. I have a friend I can stay with for a while. He doesn’t mind smoking now and then. And he has a patio, like you.”

“Okay. Next Tuesday you’ll be gone. Until then, no pot smoking here.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Amy looked at Peter’s reclined figure. That’s too bad. He pays the rent and is a good cook and spoils me from time to time with fixing some broken thing in the house. Oh, well. I can’t have him here with any kind of forbidden stuff.

“Look, Peter. It’s not that I’m so opposed to smoking weed. It’s just that I don’t want to answer any questions from the HR investigators at my company, not that they’d ever find out that weed was here. It’s just a precaution. I don’t dislike you; I just can’t have you living here.”

“I understand, Amy, but I’m not giving it up. I’ve used it since my college days to relax after stressful days or encounters, of which I’ve had many lately. I really do understand, and I love you. But you know that.”

Amy said, “Yes, I do, Peter. But you and I are not compatible. Too bad, you know. You’re brilliant but tilted. In fact, that’s how your mother referred to your family when I called her last week. She said, 'Well, Amy, by now you know our whole family is tilted.' That's exactly what she said, Peter."

Peter replied, “Yup. She’s right. We are. My family owns a winery and my sister runs it. I used to work there but I was let go after I set one of the storerooms on fire.” He looked up at Amy and continued, “It wasn’t my fault. I swear.”

“Right,” answered Amy. Geez, when is this guy ever going to take responsibility for anything? Good thing I didn’t fall for his charm and good looks, like I usually do.

The following week was a whirlwind of activity and a nightmare. Peter’s sixteen-year-old daughter, Cecily, came into Amy’s home to “straighten things out” and used her teenage style of communicating.

“You Bitch! Kicking my dad out for smoking a little weed! What kind of person are you?”

“One who owns a house,” answered Amy. “And, by the way, has a job that pays for it.”

“Well, I hope you lose your house and have to live on the streets, which is what you’re making my dad do.”

“I thought Peter worked in the office at a warehouse. His employer says he makes good money. Do you not know this?”

“What? No, no. My mom said he was homeless.”

“And yet, here you are. Standing in a house where he has rented a room for six months.”

Cecily looked down at the floor as if she was trying to think, something she probably hadn’t done for a while. “Oh.”

Amy felt sorry for her and walked over to put her arm around Cecily’s shoulders.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t you dare! I’ll have you know that my boyfriend’s dad’s friend is a cop. I’ll call him if you touch me.”

Amy stopped, stepped back, and said, “Okay, okay.” She held up both hands and looked into Cecily’s frightened eyes.

What is going on here? She is far more rattled that she should be. Her dad is going to be fine, but she looks terrified.

Amy said, “Look, Cecily. Your dad is not homeless and probably never will be. As far as I’m concerned, if he wants to smoke pot, that’s his business. It’s illegal in this state, but I’m not going to turn him in to anyone. I just need him to leave so I don’t get in trouble at my work. You understand.”

Cecily replied, “Yeah, I guess. Sorry for yelling at you. It’s just that my mom’s worried about him … but she doesn’t want him back! I wish she did, and they would get back together.”

“Of course you do. All teenagers want that, unless they are being abused in some way. But it’s not going to happen, Cecily. It’s just not.”

Cecily looked into Amy’s eyes and said, “Well, underneath it all, I know that. You are the first person to be straight with me. I wish you and my dad would get together. Then we could be a family!”

The look on Amy’s face was priceless. It was a mixture of horror and sympathy. Cecily noticed, and immediately said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“I know. You just want to have a family again, but I have to tell you that this ain’t it. Not your mom and dad, not me and your dad, and probably not anyone anytime soon. Just go with it, Cecily. Find you own family amongst your friends. You’re charming and pretty and, based on our conversation, I think you’re smart.”

“Well, I do have friends whose parents are not together, and we do talk a lot. I guess they are my family in a way.”

“Yes, and you can always call me if you want to, but your dad has to move somewhere else. I’m sorry.”

“Okay. I’ll tell my mom it didn’t work to talk to you.” Cecily paused and said, “She sent me here, you know.”

Amy nodded her head and smiled. She said, “That’s what I thought. Good luck, Girl.”