Rent

“Are you there, God? It’s me, Jeff”

In the upstairs hallway, Jeff stands at the 2nd door on the left. He is dressed in khakis and a blue button-down shirt. A large “KEEP OUT” sign hangs over several speed metal band posters. He knocks and the sign rattles from the vibration.

“It’s the 15th and you haven’t paid your rent yet.”

From behind the door, there is a slight groan, then silence.

Jeff pertly raises his fist, knuckles out, and gives seven more staccato raps, the universal signal that the person at the door is not going away.

“Come on, God, it’s 11:30 and I need the money before I head out to work.”

After an awkward pause, a muffled voice emerges, “I don’t have it.”

“What do you mean you don’t have it? I saw you counting a bunch of cash on Monday. Quit screwing around with me.”

“I’m not screwing around with you. I don’t have it.”

“Will you come out here and talk to me like a real person? This is bullshit!”

For a minute, there is more groaning from behind the door, a few random thuds, the sound of a zipper, and then the door opens. A tall wiry man in his early thirties sticks his scruffy unshaven head through the opening, eyes squinting. “Look, dude, I know you want the rent right now, but I don’t have it. You can’t squeeze blood from a turnip.”

“I can’t, but maybe you can.”

God sighs. “Jeff, we’ve been over this.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve also been over the rent too. You SAID you would have it this month.”

“Did I?”

“You did.”

“What I said is this: I said that YOU would have it this month.”

“Oh, for… come on! Quit these words games with me. I am not in the mood!”

God takes a deep breath, looking Jeff in the eye. “Come in and sit down a sec.”

Jeff rolls his eyes and follows God into a stale fog of old laundry and incense. He waves Jeff onto a moderately stained and beat up LoveSac. Jeff settles in awkwardly while God sits on his unmade bed, crossing his legs with his back against the wall. In the darkened room, Jeff can just make out the “shit happens” spelled out on God's ancient T-shirt.

“Jeff, are you telling me you don’t have the money for rent?”

“No, I have the money for the rent.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem, God, is you are here, sleeping in my home, eating my food, and using my utilities and you are not being responsible about it.”

“And being responsible is important to you?”

“… well, yes, of course. A regular person would think that taking on God as a renter, well, that’d be the epitome of responsibility.”

“Are you saying you need me to be responsible the same way you are?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“The kind of question a curious person asks to understand you.”

“Look, what if everyone in the world decided not to pay their way in society?”

“That’s a thought. Is that what’s happening here?”

“ehm… no, it’s the principle. We all follow the same set of rules and society works, you know? Why should you get to be the one who doesn’t have to pay?”

“Well, I am God.”

“Pfssh. You should stop saying that. It’s getting on my nerves.”

“What gets on your nerves? That I say it, or that I am who I say I am?”

“Honestly, I don’t know…. But what I do know is that there’s the rent and I am paying it and you are not.”

“Yeah, there’s that.”

“Why are you so damn agreeable?”

“What would you rather I be?”

“I don’t know, have a backbone or something. Yell at me or tell me to stick it!”

“I could do that.”

“Would you?”

“No.”

Jeff puts his hands in his hair and pulls, taking a sharp breath. “What are we even talking about?”

“I we figure that out, you might feel better.”

“God, damn you!”

God laughs.

“This is NOT funny!”

“I know… I know. I know you are hurting.”

“I am NOT hurting. I just need you to pay me the freakin’ three hundred dollars for your room and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Jeff, I don’t want you to leave me alone. And if truth be known, I think you don’t want to be left alone, either.”

“What the hell do you know about it? Just pay me the rent.”

“If this were about rent, then I would have paid it.”

Jeff lurches up, fists clenched. His eyes start to glisten. His voice cracks. “I don’t want to talk about what this is 'really' about!”

“I know.”

“I don’t want you in my business!”

“Yes.”

“Well then stay out of my business!”

“I would, Jeff, and yet you keep bringing your business to me. I think you know that I care a lot about your business.”

“If… if… if you cared…” Jeff’s voice catches in his throat.

“How about you sit back down and I’ll just sit here with you while we both don’t talk about anything?”

Jeff breathes. He lowers himself back into the LoveSac and curls up. He ignores the stains and musty smells as a hundred forgotten memories escape through his eyes and run down his cheek. God sits there, watching, silent and calm, noting each one.

Ten minutes pass. Twenty minutes. Jeff sits up, stuffed up and exhausted as if he just ran a mile. His breathing is slow and calm.

God swings his legs over the edge of his tousled bed and leans over a crowded nightstand. He opens the drawer and pulls out three bills. Walking over to Jeff, he puts them on stack of vinyl records next to the LoveSac. “Here’s this month's rent. Stay in the room a while - let it settle. I’m heading down to make some breakfast. There will be some for you if you want it.”