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Just Give Up
Chapter 4

Chapter 4

In terms of effort-expended to reward ratio, selflessly helping others is the worst deal. I don’t just mean that in the obvious way. For a one-time thing, there are far more destructive activities to your time and energy than giving a helping hand. The problem comes from building the expectation that you are the kind of person to go out of his way to help others.

There are different levels to this kind of expectation. You could turn into the guy who is called when someone needs a ride to the airport. The one people rely on when they’re twenty bucks short. Or, the dreaded moving-day assistant.

Back when I still lived with my parents, I was known for all those things. I considered them social obligations, favors that would be returned to me in time. But I learned quickly that not everyone saw things the same way. Whenever I needed a hand, I found my friends suddenly ‘busy’. Fortunately, when I moved away from my hometown, I found an effective solution for all the effort I was spending helping others: just don’t make any close friends. No one could ask you for favors if they didn’t know you that well. I didn’t socialize with my co-workers after work. I didn’t go out to game nights at the bar. And I didn’t get to know my neighbors.

Which put me at a little bit of a disadvantage in my new role as building manager. The moment I reactivated the service for my phone, I was met with three messages from residents of the building. Well, three besides the number of increasingly frantic messages I received from Vincent the day before. I didn’t know any of these people, but I needed to go into their apartments – into their personal space – in order to confirm their issues. Thankfully none of the problems were as serious as a leak, but I was not looking forward to a day filled with awkward introductions.

And I probably shouldn’t make those introductions in nothing but a nightshirt and sweatpants. Not that I had any great options. I hadn’t done laundry in weeks at that point. All I could do was try the old sniff test. I approached one of piles of discarded clothing scattered around my room, gave them each a good whiff until I found an outfit that seemed clean enough, hit them a couple of times to try and get them a little less wrinkly, and then got dressed. If only the laundry machine wasn’t all the way on the other side of the building, maybe doing my wash wouldn’t seem like such a hassle.

Once I was at least passably decent, I left my apartment and started making my way to first problem unit. The first would have been in 2D, just two doors down from my own apartment. You’d think I could have made that trip without running into any complications.

As I was walking past apartment 2C, I heard a small voice calling out for help. Instinctively, I turned, and saw a pair of tiny legs sticking out of the window. They kicked desperately as a voice called out, “Someone! Anyone! Please! I’m stuck!”

Upon closer inspection, that did seem to be the case. The child couldn’t have been more than nine or ten years old. Half of her body was inside the apartment, the other half sticking out onto the walkway. The window was pressing down on her backpack, which in turn pressed down on her and kept her pinned.

I could have just kept walking, pretending like I didn’t hear or see anything. Assisting the child was certainly more effort than not assisting her, especially when I didn’t know what kind of situation I was getting myself into. For all I knew, this kid was breaking into the apartment, and by helping her I would be made an accomplice.

But allowing a child to remain trapped like that for who knows how long seemed excessively cruel, even for someone who didn’t want to get involved. I decided my rules for life after giving up needed an amendment for this kind of situation:

Rule Three: Don’t let giving up be an excuse for being a dick.

“Hold on, I’m going to get you free,” I told her.

I got behind the kid, grabbed the end of her backpack with one hand and the window with the other. “Get ready.”

“Thank you, mister.”

The window was stuck. I tried to pull it up with one arm so I could free the girl enough to pull her out, but it didn’t budge at all. I then tried with both hands, but still it didn’t budge an inch. Even putting all my force behind it, grunting with effort, I couldn’t get it to move. Perhaps if I had muscles like Tommy…

“Mister, hurry up!” the girl demanded. “I needa pee!”

Her urgency passed into me. Last thing I needed was for this kid to wet herself while I was right behind her.

Desperation can breed innovation. The boards that lined the railings of the walkway were loose. Very loose. Like, get you in trouble with building safety regulators level of loose. Derek had warned me to never lean too hard on the railings if I didn’t want to risk a fall. Probably something he should have gotten around to fixing at some point. Guess that would fall under my responsibility now.

I rushed to the railing and pulled one of the planks free. It came off without protest. I then slid it beneath the window and used as leverage to try to force the window to raise. It took quite a bit of effort, but I felt the window slide up an inch. Just enough for me to grab the kid by the backpack and pull her free. Good thing I was quick, because the moment I freed her the board snapped and the window slammed shut.

A feeling of relief came over me, as well as a bit of those warm fuzzies you get when you help someone out.

“You alright, kid?” I asked.

“Oh no!” the girl replied, her voice distressed. “Why did you do that!? You were supposed to push me in, not pull me out!”

“Huh?”

“I forgot my key again, and I don’t know when mom’s going to be home, so I tried to climb in the window. Oh, what am I going to do? I really gotta pee!”

I hurriedly reached into my pocket, looking for the master key to the building that Derek had given me, only to remember that I had just changed my pants. My keys were still in the pockets of my discarded sweatpants.

“Hold on!” I practically shouted. “I can get a key! Just give me a minute!”

“No, I can’t!” She was dancing now, bouncing back and forth between her legs in desperation. “I’m gonna burst!”

I looked around me anxiously, as if some magical, immediate solution was going to present itself. When it didn’t, I sighed and said, “I’m right next door. I guess you can use my bathroom.”

“Hurry!” she cried.

I’d barely had time to open my door before the girl shoved her way past me and dashed into my apartment.

“It’s over on the right …” I started, though she didn’t need directions. Benefits of all the apartments being laid out the same.

It was only after the door to my bathroom closed that it struck me that my apartment might not be an appropriate place for a child. There weren’t any adult items for her to find (unless she decided to start going through my browser history) but there was certainly enough suggestive imagery and foul language on display that my apartment would probably merit a PG-13 rating. Not to mention a number of hazards as a result of my poor cleaning habits. I didn’t even remember why I started stacking my kitchen knives on the ottoman.

I considered quickly trying to straighten up the worst of it while she was in the bathroom, but decided I didn’t have enough time to make a difference. How long did it take a little girl to pee? Best to just get her out of here as quickly as possible. I hurried over to where I had discarded my sweatpants to retrieve the master key.

Not fast enough, it turned out, as by the time I returned to the living room, the girl was already out of the bathroom and looking around curiously.

“It’s really dirty,” she commented.

“Yeah, I know,” I admitted, feeling a little ashamed to be called out by this child. “I have the key, so we should –“

“And also smelly,” she continued, oblivious to my attempt to move her along. “Like gym socks.”

I recoiled at the direct insult. Children didn’t hesitate to say it as it is. I’d gotten so used to the mess that I didn’t notice the smells anymore. I probably should straighten up at some point.

“Sorry about that,” I said, head bowed in embarrassment. “I don’t really the mind the mess, and I don’t usually have people over.”

She nodded as if I said something wise. “I don’t like cleaning. It’s boring. But if it gets messy, Gorbby gets upset.”

Gorbby? That was a strange name. A pet, maybe?

“Oh, I haven’t seen that cartoon before,” she suddenly said. “What is Beach Summer Oil Party?”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

With growing horror, I realized she had focused her attention on my TV, which I had forgotten to turn off. Vincent had texted with a recommendation for a number of ‘must watch’ animes, and I thought it would be rude not to at least check them out. It certainly wasn’t because that kind of thing also appealed to me. Fortunately, I had left the TV on the title screen – as opposed to any of the more interesting scenes within the show – but that didn’t stop my panic.

“It’s nothing!” I quickly blurted as I fumbled for the remote on the couch to turn the TV off. “It’s garbage! Awful! You shouldn’t watch it! I only selected it by accident! Just forget about it and watch something better!”

I finally found the power button on the remote and the TV went dark.

The girl didn’t seem convinced. She gave me a stare and folded her arms. “Fine, don’t tell. I’ll ask Gorbby. He’ll tell me.”

There was that name again.

“Who’s Gorbby?” I asked, desperate to change the subject and make her forget what she just saw.

“Gorbby’s my best friend!” She smiled brightly at me. “I’d show you, but I can’t get into my home now that the window’s shut.”

“Oh, right.” I pulled out the master key. “As I was trying to tell you, I can you get you inside.”

“You can?”

I gestured for her to follow me, eager to get her out of my apartment before anything else could happen. “Let’s go.”

She followed me back to her apartment, and as promised I opened the door for her using the master key. I expected her to rush inside as she had done at my place, but instead she hesitated by the door.

“Why do you have a keep to my home?” she asked. Then her eyes widened. “Are you mom’s new boyfriend?! Can I call you dad?! When are we going to the park?! I got to show you my rock collection!”

All of this came at me so fast and so unexpectedly that I was left stunned. It took me a while before I could finally exclaim my response. “No! I’m not – I don’t – I’m not dating your mom! Not that there’s anything wrong with your mother! I’m not sure I’ve even met her, actually! I’m sure she’s great, though!”

She looked at me, confused. “But you have the key, though?”

“I’m the new building manager,” I explained, trying to sound calmer than I had a moment ago. “I have this key so I can get into people’s apartments when they have something they need fixed.”

“Oh … okay.”

I sighed in relief, glad that misunderstanding had been cleared up. Then I heard the sniffling.

It quickly turned into full waterworks as this child whose name I didn’t even know started bawling in front of me. I looked around, my first instinct being to escape. But guilt kept my legs firmly locked in place.

“Look, it’s not that bad!” I insisted. “You don’t want me dating your mom, anyway! I’m not really a worthy guy.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she sniffled. She slowly seemed to be calming down. “You are kind of stinky.”

Another shot directly to my heart. I needed to get away from this kid before she killed me.

I forced myself to smile and say, “Yeah – yeah, I do. So, there’s no reason to be sad.”

The kid wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. Gorbby said if I was a good girl and was patient, one day someone would come who would help me with my homework, and show me how to ride a bike, and sneak me snacks after bedtime – all the stuff the other girls in class do with their dads. My dad doesn’t come around anymore, but I thought if mom got a new boyfriend … I guess I got excited.”

Do not get any further involved with this child! My mind was screaming at me. Leave right now before you find yourself volunteering for a whole lot of trouble.

But at the same time, my heart was breaking for this kid. Nothing like getting emotional to cause you to make bad decisions.

“I mean, I can help you with your homework if you want,” I said, awkwardly shifting on my feet. “I don’t know about all the rest of that, but I’m happy to help you from time to time.”

“You are?” She looked up at me with those kind of wide eyes that I thought only puppies were capable of.

"Yeah. I mean, it’s kind of my job. I’m the building manager. I help the people who live in the building.”

I hoped the half-truth would help make things less awkward. It did not.

She seemed excited about it, though. “Okay! What’s your name, Mr. Building Manager?”

“You can call me Kit.”

“I’m Maddy. Oh, I still got to show you Gorbby, don’t I? Come on!”

Maddy rushed into her apartment before I could respond. I hesitated outside the door for a minute, questioning how good an idea it was for me to follow her. Going inside without the tenant’s permission was no-no, and I wasn’t sure if the kid was able to give me that permission. But she seemed really excited, and after that whole spiel I just gave her, I didn’t want to let her down. I decided it would probably be okay for me to step inside for just a moment.

The inside of the apartment was neat, if a bit sparse. Practical is the word I’d use to describe it. I kind of expected a place where a child lived to be a bit messier, covered in toys and coloring books or whatever it is kids are into these days. Or maybe not every child was like I was.

“Over here!” Maddy called to me, gesturing to the far wall of the living room.

I approached the wall, which was covered in drawings on plain white sheets of paper hung up with thumb tacks. They appeared to be done with colored pencils, and they featured a variety of people in a childish style.

“That’s my mom, and that’s my teacher, and that’s the janitor,” Maddy said as she pointed out each picture. “And that one in the middle is Gorbby!”

This picture was strange when compared to the rest. The figure in it was shorter and had a bulbous midsection and was colored in grey and black. It had big eyes that made it kind of goofy looking.

“He’s looks … unique,” I commented.

“He’s an alien!” Maddy explained. “He only likes to talk to me, though. He says ‘hi’ and is happy to meet you!”

Oh, an imaginary alien friend. That was pretty cute. I had an imaginary friend when I was a kid, too. Though when my little sister came along, he decided that he liked her more than me and started to hang out with her instead. Thinking back on it, that probably says something about my psyche that I didn’t really want to unpack.

The front door opened.

“Mommy’s home!”

Of course she would come back now. Now I had to explain why I was in her apartment so she wouldn’t launch a complaint to Derek about me.

She looked like a reasonable lady. Kind of young looking to be a parent. And pretty attractive. She had a gentle face, bright eyes, and full lips. I may have been paying attention too to that sort of thing instead of focusing on explaining myself.

“Hey, sorry to intrude,” I said, probably smiling like an idiot. “I’m – “

I was so distracted that I didn’t even notice she had reached into her purse until she had already pulled a can of pepper spray from it and pushed down on the nozzle.

My eyes felt like they were on fire. No, that’s not quite extreme enough. My eyes felt like they had been lit on fire, and then someone took them out to try to extinguish the flames, but then accidentally dropped them on a fire ant hill, and then tried to remove the ants with shards of broken glass, only then to put the still flaming, ant covered, glass-cut eyes back into my skull. It was very painful, is what I am getting at. So, it does not make me less manly that I went down onto the floor, screaming and sobbing.

“Mommy, no!” Maddy cried. “That’s the building manager! His name’s Kit! He’s nice!”

“The building manager?” her mother replied. “What happened to Derek?”

“My eyes are boiling in the sun!” was the only thing I reply.

“Oh dear. Maddy, go play in your room. I will take of this.” I felt her grab me by the shoulder as she helped me to my feet. “Come on, let’s get you over to the sink to wash your eyes out.”

She helped me over to the kitchen and assisted me in rinsing out my eyes under the faucet. The relief was immense. It didn’t completely remove the irritation, but instead of feeling like my eyes were on fire, it felt more like they had just been rolling around in the sand. Which was an improvement I was grateful for.

I leaned over the sink for a little while after, regaining my strength. And trying to figure out the least awkward way to separate myself from this situation.

“I’m sorry,” Maddy’s mother said. “I wasn’t aware you were coming over. I just saw a man alone in my apartment with my daughter …”

Boy, did I feel stupid. I had only been concerned with getting in trouble for entering a tenant’s apartment without notice. I hadn’t even considered how creepy I would come off looking.

“It’s alright,” I replied, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I know I must have come off looking like – “

“A government agent,” she finished, cutting me off.

“Huh?” Had some of the pepper spray gotten into my ears and affected my hearing?

She nodded, her expression serious. “A government agent. I always have to be on guard, in case they come around asking about Gorbby.”

“Gorbby? The alien?” I was sure I was mishearing something.

She shot me such an aggressive look I was afraid she was going to pepper spray me again. “How did you know that?”

I held my hands up defensively. “Maddy told me. Showed me the picture on the wall. I think it is nice she has an imaginary alien friend.”

“He’s not imaginary,” she insisted, sounding offended at the notion.

“He’s not? Wait, have you seen this alien, too?”

What had I wandered into? Was this the opening to some unsolved mysteries podcast, where they talk about alien abductions? A building manager follows a kid into her apartment, disappears for days, and then comes back forever changed? I hoped real aliens didn’t use anal probes.

“No, of course I haven’t seen him,” she replied, making it sound like it was the stupidest notion in the world. “But Maddy isn’t a liar, so I know he’s real.”

“I’m not accusing her of lying,” I said, defensively. “Just that kids sometimes like to pretend. I mean, you would have seen an alien by now if it was real, right?”

She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Of course I wouldn’t. I’m not special, like Maddy. Gorbby only shows himself to the exceptional.”

“Exceptional?”

“Oh, yes. I guess you haven’t spent enough time with her to realize it, but she really is quite special.” Her eyes lit up and excitement entered her voice when talking about her daughter. “For example, she’s really smart. You know, she’s ranked second in her class in academics.”

Not first?

“And she sings in her school’s chorus. She got a five second solo during the Christmas performance!”

That’s a little something.

“And she got a silver medal in the school’s sport’s festival.”

Second place again.

She folded her arms, looking satisfied. “And that’s only some of it, but enough to prove my point. Maddy is very special.”

If that was enough to qualify as special enough for alien attention, then my little sister must be one of the galaxy’s most wanted.

But I suppose it was normal for a parent to consider their child special. And Maddy did have a lot to be proud of. Though it was still a little strange to believe your daughter’s imaginary alien friend was real.

“She really does sound like something,” I said awkwardly, looking to the door. “Uh, but I really should get going. I only intended to help Maddy get inside cause she forgot her key, and I got other tenants waiting for me to stop by.”

“Oh, right. Of course. Thank you for helping her. I’ll try to make sure she doesn’t forget her key again in the future. Your name was Kit, right? I’m Allison. I suppose I’ll be seeing around, as the building manager?”

I wondered how long we had lived next door to each other without ever introducing ourselves.

“Yeah. If anything breaks down, just give me a call.”

I retreated towards the door before anything else could happen. Hopefully my eyes would fully recover before I reached the next apartment.

“Oh, and Kit?” Allison said as I stepped out the door.

I turned back to her. “Yeah?”

Her expression was grave. “If you tell anyone about Gorbby, next time you’ll get worse than pepper spray.”

She closed the door, leaving me to shudder at the implications of her threat.

That night, spurred on by Maddy’s insults, I straightened up and made a trip to the laundry room. Also took a nice, long shower so I would no longer be ‘stinky.’ And I decided I should probably add yet another rule to my growing list of guidelines:

Rule Four: Maintain an acceptable minimum of personal hygiene.

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