"The Odd Couple" - Submission #44

If I do the math, I can figure out that Janet (Bill’s wife), became pregnant with their first child in early October of 1975, about a month after I had moved in with them.

I’m not sure when they actually made the big announcement. It was probably in November or December. I was excited to hear the news. It never occurred to me, at least early on, that this news would have any dramatic effect on me and my situation. But eventually, it did.

As I have mentioned earlier, Bill made next to nothing working for the church. They had to meticulously budget in order to make ends meet. As an example of their poverty, I never… ever… remember Bill filling his car up with gas. It was always putting in a dollar’s worth at a time… two dollars if he was awash with cash. But never more than that.

The financial impact of having a child would be significant and Bill had to plan accordingly. And so, before I had completed my junior year, Bill and Janet sat me down… and gave me the news that would jolt my world. The bottom line? I would not be living with them any longer.

Janet’s grandmother, they called her “Gummy,” owned a house in Chino, California… about 45 minutes away from our apartment in Norwalk. She also owned a house in Oklahoma and split time between the two states. As a way to help Bill and Janet save money, Gummy offered them the opportunity to live in the Chino house… rent free.

They accepted her offer. And now… they had to break the news to me.

I felt shocked and devastated by the news. I had been so happy and content since moving in with them in September and now, it felt like the rug was being pulled out from under me. I was bewildered and lost. I know that Bill felt horrible about doing it, but it really made sense for his family.

Obviously, Bill wasn’t going to throw me out on the streets. He had developed a plan prior to breaking the news to me. The problem was… it was a horrible plan.

A “down on his luck” guy had started attending our church. His name was Chuck Beard. Chuck was a scruffy looking character… probably 40ish, always wearing the same clothes. I was pretty sure that he didn’t own a razor or a toothbrush and if you found yourself downwind from him, it was obvious that he didn’t have much access to soap or a shower. But he seemed nice enough.

Apparently, Chuck was looking for a place to live. He worked part time doing odd jobs and couldn’t afford a place on his own… so… you guessed it… Chuck was going to be my new roomie. What??? Uh… yeah…. The odd couple.

Chuck and I moved into a different apartment complex, around the corner from where I had been living. No TV. No phone. I paid rent with the social security check I got from my dad’s passing away.

Oh… and how did I get to school now, you ask? That’s a great question and I thank you for asking.

Before Bill and Janet headed for Chino, they had secured my transportation. An old, girls’ bicycle, previously own by Janet’s younger sister, Donna. It was old, it was rusty, and it was butt ugly.

As ugly as the bike was… I couldn’t leave it outside or it would get stolen within minutes. It was a bad neighborhood. So, the bike was stored in the cramped living room of our upstairs apartment. Every morning, I would ride that bike three miles to school, steering with one hand and holding a stack of books and notebooks in my other hand. I rode the busy streets of Norwalk and Cerritos, through heavy Mexican gang area on Norwalk Blvd and 166^th Street… peddling as fast as my feet could go.

I missed school frequently and would write my own excuse, forging Bill’s signature at the bottom. At some point, the school administration noticed the forgeries and requested a meeting with Bill, who was my legal guardian. I don’t remember the outcome of that meeting, but I know that I quit missing school after.

I spent my evenings listening to the Dodger games on a little radio as I stared out the front window. It was my only source of entertainment. Chuck and I never spoke to each other beyond any necessary communication. On occasion, Bill would stop by the apartment and I would be so happy. I craved his company so badly that I would always try and think of ways to get him to stay just a few minutes longer. Every time he left, I would be consumed with sadness.

Chuck and I were approaching the one-month mark in our apartment together and rent was due. I remember riding the bike home after school, I think it might have been the last day of the school year, because I was earlier than normal. I carried the bike up the stairs, stuck my apartment key into the locked door and pushed it open. Chuck was on the living room floor with a bed-sheet spread out in front of him. The few belongings that he owned… a couple dirty shirts, some silverware, a couple pots and pans… hobo stuff…  were on the sheet and he was pulling up the four corners, making a knapsack of sorts.

Chuck was caught off-guard and he stammered and stumbled over his words. Obviously, his plan was to be long gone by the time I got home. Finally, these words came tumbling out of his mouth, “I can’t afford to live here anymore.”

I stood in stunned silence as he quickly strode by me and out the door with his bed-sheet of earthly possessions slung over his shoulder… the sound of his pots clanking in rhythm with his steps. Chuck was gone but his body odor lingered.

Thanks for the memories, Chuck.

I put the kick-stand down on the bike and sat down on the couch. I looked up toward the ceiling, as though speaking to God and said, “Now what?”