A Rental Agreement

A Rental Agreement

For years you’ve occupied my mind. Every time I’ve thought that I’ve made room for someone else, you’ve shown up out of the blue, unannounced. You pay your overdue rent, and you remain living in the little room in my brain. Instead of kicking you out for being a terrible tenant, I let you remain and those who I had brought to the inspection I turn away at the door and tell them that the homeowner has changed her mind and the property is off the market.

I keep telling myself that I’ll give you your four weeks notice, and I’ll find someone else who will keep up with the bills and payments. But I never do. I initially thought it was because I was still in love with you and for a while there it was but now, I think it’s because you hurt me. So badly. A hurt that I had never felt before. A hurt that evidently takes years to get over. For some reason I keep you around, keep tabs on you. To make sure you know that I’m living my best life without you.

There was a time where I thought that I could finally kick you out. A new tenant, older, more mature, someone I had let myself be more vulnerable with than a lot of the people who had come to inspect the room before him. But he hurt me too. In a different way that you did but still hurt, nonetheless. The difference I’ve come to realise is that he gave me an explanation as to why he couldn’t stay. He gave me a choice to say yes or no to what he was offering but you didn’t. You probably never will.

But I’m starting to think it’s time that you did move out and to find some other place to live. The one thing I ask of you as your pack you stuff into boxes and clean the room is that you leave the light on and the door open for the next person to move it. I don’t want it to be dark, cold, uninviting room, so please do what I ask.

An in the days, weeks, months, years to come when someone does eventually occupy that room again and they find something of yours that had fallen behind the bed and you hadn’t realised you had left it behind. I’ll hopefully be able to smile. I’ll hopefully be able to say that an old friend left it. I’ll hopefully be able to take it from them and place it in my box of lost treasures. But until then I hope you find a new home; one you own with someone else and fill it with love because it’s about time I did the same.

Casey Anne Martin. Published June 2022