The Uncle Ben

A few days later I woke up to the sound of someone wrapping on my door. I blinked a couple times, shaking off that moment of bliss when you wake up and can't remember a thing about anything. Then it all came back and I sighed. The person banged the door again. Monday mornings were hard enough without the tiring dreams and depressing thoughts and now I had to deal with this. Speaking of tiring dreams, last night's dream fit that description perfectly. I was just trying to remember the details of the adventure when the door thundered again. I wished they wouldn’t knock so hard. The door was weak and I wouldn’t be surprised if the person knocking tore it off the hinges without even trying.

"What?" I screamed. But I already knew who it was. My landlord slash uncle slash money sucker. Benjamin Weeks. Told you I’d get back to him and, as promised, here goes.

Each month Uncle Ben would make up new things that I had to pay for. And I had to pay for them. He took me in after I begged him to, when I turned 18 and the orphanage said I had to leave. Considering how I had no friends or anyone close to me at the time, it’s easy to see how that could be a problem. With no one willing to let a teenager rent a room, I was just roaming around and needed a place to stay. I decided to turn to Uncle Ben because he was the only family I had and the shelters were getting too crowed and unhygienic for my liking. Uncle Ben was my father’s brother and didn’t share the same surname as me because of some long complicated story that I never asked about. He was an occasional misanthropic man and thank goodness begging wasn't beneath me.

After much disagreement, he finally said yes, I could live in his building as long as I paid rent on time. I already had a part time job at the time and was thinking of making it full time as soon as I finished matric. Especially since rent would now be an issue. I didn't give college a second thought - or first even. I always knew I'd never go.

Uncle Ben didn't like dealing with family and friends but his wife compared me to a lost little hobo and what people would think if they saw the last remaining blood family of Benjamin Weeks begging for money. It would certainly destroy their reputation. And anyways, there were a couple empty apartments and they could use the money I'd be paying. Mind you, I was standing right next to both of them when they discussed all of this, them knowing full well I was 3 feet away. I still remember what he said.

"Okay, okay, okay. We'll take her. But if she misses one month of rent, just one, she's out."

I pointed out that I was actually right there and they were talking about me like I wasn't. He called me insolent and said he was already regretting his decision. So I skulked off, not wanting him to change his mind.

I settled in very quickly and got into a routine, knowing that this would now be my life. Then I met Adam and the rest is history. We became friends and suddenly my life wasn't so bad anymore.

"You're late!" Uncle Ben screamed back.

"No, I'm not! It’s only the 29th! Rent isn't due ‘til next week."

"Well, I need to pay some bills. So have the money here by the end of the day or get out!"

"Fine!"

He often made demands like this. I heard his hefty footsteps fade. I was so glad that the door was between us. I punched my pillow, imagining that it was him and immediately felt better.

Someone knocked on the door again.

"I said fine!" I shouted.

"Whoa. Easy tiger." It was Adam. I unlocked it and let him in. "I've got you this month."

"No, Adam. I can't let you do that again. I still owe you from the last time."

"It’s no big deal. I’ll just tell my parents to give me extra this month. Why not, you know?"

I hated how he threw money at everything. Especially since I was working so hard for my own and still didn't have enough. His parents were filthy rich and he sponged off of them. Moving into this building was an act of rebellion that his parents despised. They didn't like me either so us hanging out didn't go too well with them. What was it with those rich kids that tried so hard to make their parents miserable? I couldn't argue though. Because I once overheard his mother call me a leech, draining the life and money out of her son and if we ever got married, that would be the end of her. At one point I contemplated marrying Adam, just to see the end of her, but there was nothing ever romantic between him and me. He was my friend. A brother. My family.

"Thank you," I said. “I used the tutoring money to pay off some other bills.”

“Sky,” he said. “I’ve got you. Always.”

One day I'd repay him, I knew. I couldn't let go of all the things he did for me. I began playing with the ring on my finger. An old habit.

"How's the headache?"

"Great," I said. "Still throbbing away. You know, I've got to hand it to those small people inside my head who are hammering at my skull. They really do have a lot of energy and refuse to sleep."

"You should get it checked out. You know, I read on the internet that-"

"Adam, stay away from the internet! If I had actually been diagnosed with half the things that I use G****e to diagnose myself with, I'd be dead by now."

He laughed. "Speaking of the internet, when's the new blogbuster coming out?"

"When I get a moment alone," I replied.

We had cereal for breakfast and I had to rush to work. I had a job as a shop assistant at a retail store which drained me almost completely with their ridiculous trading hours. 

“Looks like rain,” Adam said when I was halfway out the building. He handed me my umbrella. I thanked him and left.

I took the normal bus as always and saw the same people I always did. Nothing happens. There's no one new taking the bus in the morning. It’s the people from shop 912. They sold a lot of the same things as us and so they were our rivals. We never really spoke to each other. There was the aforementioned toupee guy and the untidy mother with her triplets, taking them to school with a sour expression.

Next, there were the fast food people, all from different chains. You could just tell where they worked by how funky their uniforms were. Then there's bus guy. Oh, boy. I had no idea who he was or where he worked. He rarely looked at anyone. He just sits in his corner, looking out the window like he wants to jump out. I wish I knew his story. The eyes behind his thick black glasses looked like he had an amazing one to tell. Sometimes I liked watching the outside reflect on his huge lenses. It’s fun. Mercifuly, he's never noticed. At least, I hoped not.