The Landlord's Game of Control

e, wide and greasy, n

fter ignoring my pleas for two weeks to

e vents as just an "old building" problem, scoffing

arrived for the holidays, collapsed, pale and confused, he

nic, calling for an ambulance. "You' re a single mom, right? Always struggling. Maybe this is some kin

ss as paramedics wheeled my barely conscious mother from our apartment,

was on the phone, his voice warm and accommodating, promising to

e going to fix his window screen right now, but you couldn'

iness. Dave is a model tenant. He understands how thin

he was being moved to the ICU, and I recalled every ignored complaint, every dismissal, every woman Hen

al woman. He was about to find o