100 Billion Dollars In My Rented Apartment

Chapter 1 – Rented Walls

At seven o'clock, Oscar was awakened, by the sound of a violent knock on the door.

"Better wake up, scumbag!" Came the voice of his landlord from outside, his tone dripping with disdain, and his palms slapping against the metal door.

Oscar sighed, almost crumbling under the weight of frustration. He got out of bed, picked up his glasses from the side table drawer, and took a quick glance at the partially broken mirror in front of him.

"I just want to get out of this," he muttered, only to get interrupted by the voice of his landlord once more, yelling...

"You'd better come out here now, or I am going to pull this door down and come in there to drag you out myself. Don't you even dare think that I joke with my money."

Oscar stole a glance at the door, eyes cold. He lives in a one-room apartment, with a corner reserved for the bed and another for the television, accompanied by a small couch in front of it. There is also a kitchen and bathroom, neither of which is fancy, just a simple place for a man who seems to be starting out with very little in life.

In addition, his rent is not due for another three weeks, but the landlord would constantly knock at his door to remind him of the unpaid rent as though it were long overdue. For years Oscar endured this harsh treatment, not because he wanted to but because he had to; there was nothing he could do to pull himself out of this awkward situation, not yet.

"I'm coming." He finally replied, his voice barely audible, not even the wall nearest to him could hear him.

Adjusting his glasses, he walked up to the door and opened it to meet the gaze of an angry-looking man who seemed to have come to devour him. The landlord's face was reddened with fury, his hand shaking with rage, and Oscar couldn't help but wonder why he was the only one who got picked on and treated this harshly.

"The rent," Oscar began, even before the landlord could open his mouth,

"Yes," the old man nodded, "My money, I need it, you have just two weeks and three days left...

"And you think it is wise to remind me every single day?" Oscar managed to ask, cutting the landlord off mid-sentence. "I am going to pay you, please, stop causing a scene and bringing people here to embarrass me... I beg you."

"You fool!" The landlord snapped. He turned around to glance at the other neighbours who had come out of their homes to witness the chaos after hearing his voice. "Look at them," he continued, briefly pointing at each of them with his black walking stick,

"Each one of them has paid their rent for next year... even Martins, the street cleaner, has paid, but you!" He paused and turned back to look Oscar in the eyes,

"At least everyone here has a purpose, they have a job, and they understand what it means to be responsible... but you, what are you? Nothing but a loser and an absolute trash. No job, no money, not even a wife... didn't she leave you already?"

"You don't have to mention all that...

"I will," The landlord interjected, raising his voice even higher so that he would be heard by the others,

"Heavily pregnant with your child, your wife left you yesterday... why? Because she would raise her child with her family rather than be with a loser like you. Her parents are wealthy; they own companies. She is a smart girl to return home. Honestly, I wonder why her family gave her to you in the first place."

Oscar swallowed hard, suppressing his anger and frustration by taking deep breaths.

"I... I will pay your rent, sir." He concluded and walked back into the house, gently closing the door behind him.

Oscar no longer wished to entertain this conversation; the insults were becoming unbearable, and the embarrassments were demoralising, to say the least.

While inside, he could still hear the Landlord’s voice, loud and clear, violating his name like he wasn't a human being too.

"He is just useless!" He said, "An irresponsible man, I hope his child never gets to know him, else he'd be ashamed to have Oscar as a father.. such a disgrace in the form of a man."

Oscar wished that he could block out these voices; he wished to unhear them, especially every word that had been said regarding his wife and unborn child. It felt as though the landlord had poured salt on a recent wound and every bit of it hurt Oscar to the bones.

Certainly, as a man, it is not ideal to sit on the edge of the bed and sulk; thus, Oscar took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He pulled out the drawer underneath the television and picked up the results from an ultrasound his wife had taken a while back.

"I will take care of you, I promise," he uttered, speaking to the picture as though it were a person.

"Don't worry, daddy is not going to be a poor man forever, he will be rich and he will take care of you, and you will... you will..."

Oscar stuttered as tears threatened to escape his eyes, his words were caught in his throat as he thought about the possibility of ever getting out of his wretched situation. Life wasn't always like this, but one day was all it took to make him a homeless orphan who was lucky enough to have lived this long, long enough to father his own child.

"You will not be ashamed of me, you will tell the world how rich and how powerful your daddy is, you will prove them wrong won't you, my little pumpkin?" He stopped and let out a slight chuckle, a little laugh that made it seem like he was relieved.

"I have pleaded with my boss," he continued, "And I will go and see him today, he might just give me another position, and I will take care of you."

With that, he gently placed the paper back in the drawer and proceeded to get ready for work. Since he had already been awakened before seven o'clock, he might as well take his time to get prepared.

He got into the kitchen and made himself a warm cup of tea, a few slices of bread and some cheap butter. Afterwards, he ironed his clothes and proceeded to take a bath. Oscar remained hopeful, especially since his boss had called to see him after his plea; it could only mean that he had reconsidered and might let him resume working again.

Oscar made it to the office a little more punctually than usual; he couldn't have his boss getting upset about anything, not his look, his attitude and especially not tardiness. He walked up to the cashier, but she did not spare a glance at him, nor did she respond to his greeting like she used to.

"Work starts at nine o'clock," she said dismissively, stealing a glance at the large clock in the lobby.

"We are not attending to customers until then."

Stunned by the change in attitude toward him, Oscar asked,

"Did I do anything to offend you, Karen?"

"Sir, the office opens at nine am," she repeated, staring at him from head to toe in disdain,

"It's either you sit in the lobby and wait, or you leave... we do not attend to customers until the opening time, don't bother me until then."

Oscar raised an eyebrow. Having been dismissed only a week ago, he was surprised to receive such treatment from a colleague to whom he had been kind.

"Karen, you...

Before he could say another word, she pulled a headphones out of her handbag and blocked her ears with them, humming to the sound of the music she played without batting an eye at the figure in front of her.

To her, Oscar was a stranger, a loser and someone who's not worth a second of her precious time, and although it may not make sense to Oscar now, he would find out soon.

Embarrassingly, he slowly walked back to one of the seats in the lobby and made himself comfortable. His eyes darted back and forth at the clock, and every second ticked like a time bomb.

He watched employees trooping into the building, some alone and others in pairs. But regardless of how they came in, no one spared a glance at him or responded to his greeting. If he waved, they would laugh, whisper amongst themselves and giggle while walking away. The male staff amongst them simply kept a straight face and avoided looking in his direction.

To anyone, this behaviour from fellow colleagues would bring a lot of discomfort, and for Oscar, it brought more than that. These were people he worked with for five years. But they didn't sympathise with him after he was fired, no one called to check up and ask if he was okay. He couldn't blame them though, afterall the situation surrounding his dismissal was quite absurd.

Waiting in the lobby became unbearable, and Oscar decided that he would wait outside until his boss arrived. He kept his disappointed gaze on the clerk the whole time on his way out, and without realising it, he bumped into someone near the entrance.

"I'm so so...

Oscar's words caught in his throat as he turned to see the man he had bumped into. His heart sank to the bottom. All the effort put into looking his best was now wasted by this singular act, and there was no way to reverse it.

"I am so sorry sir," He managed to finish, keeping his head low. "I should have been more careful, I'm sorry."

"Oscar Wellington," his boss scoffed, dusting the invisible speck of dirt off his sparkling black jacket.

"You never change do you, still as useless as ever."

At his word, Oscar heard the voice of the clerk chuckle behind him, her mockery hitting harder than the insults themselves.

"I'd make sure it never happens again...

"I bet you will," the boss interjected, a cold smile playing on his lip. "I'm glad I met you here anyway, you can resume work immediately."

For a brief moment, Oscar felt as though the light had risen upon him once more, he thought his hopes were not shattered after all. But then his boss's next statement caught him off guard.

"One of our cleaners quit yesterday, so you can replace her in the meantime."

"What?"

"Yes, you heard me right," the man replied, adjusting his tie as though it needed fixing. "That's the only vacant spot, someone else has taken your place and you don't expect to fire him just to put you back... absolutely not, Oscar."

With a menacing grimace, Mr. Ken placed his hand on Oscar's shoulder, his expression then shifted quickly to that of pity and fake empathy.

"I knew finding another job would be difficult for you, nearly impossible to say the least. And I heard your wife is gone, with your child isn't it? So I did what any good human would do to help you. However, if you are not content with the job I have given you, feel free to walk out the door."

With that, Mr Ken walked out on him toward the elevator. The clerk couldn't stop laughing at him from behind which got louder after the boss was out of sight.

"From a salesman to a cleaner," she said, almost breathless, "Well, a job is a job not minding the position."

Oscar did not move a muscle, he couldn't pretend that it did not hurt. Truly, it did. But what other choice does he have? Getting another job in this city might take months and finding a good paying job was impossible. But what other choice does he have?