The House Next to Mine - by HFA

The House Next to Mine

It drizzled earlier so the air is fresh outside. I sit down on the patio with a heavy sigh. The garden is well maintained even though I have no idea how Jim finds the time to care for it. The grass is always cut, bushes are trimmed, and the leaves are raked. The remains of my dinner are next to the stairs that lead down.

The soup was good but my stomach has been giving up on me lately. It is really a coin toss kind of situation - sometimes I can digest, and sometimes I throw up violently. Jim has been very understanding. Ever since he stopped giving me solid food I’ve been able to hold down at least 3 or 4 meals a week. I never try to make a mess. Typically I go behind the trees, right by the fence at the end of the property, but tonight I felt too weak to go that far. The trek from the bed to the patio took my breath away and I was huffing and puffing by the time I reached the door. 

The air smells fresh so I spend some time simply enjoying the fact I that am still able to breathe, even though each breath comes with a sound that makes me suspect my lungs aren’t in great shape. Up ahead, somewhere in the bushes, a cricket voices itself. I let out a sound that sounds like a cough. 

Jim drives a pickup truck that is probably older than I am. Jim works very hard. He leaves at the crack of dawn, waking me up, and comes back after dusk, waking me up. 

Our neighbors are an elderly couple that I barely see. They mostly stay inside, except for the occasional time they drive to the nearest supermarket, presumably to get food. I met them last year, and they seemed very nice - Todd and Harriet if I recall correctly. They even brought a pie for us, even thought I always thought it was customary for them to get one from Jim and me since they were the ones to move in. 

My heart is beating way too fast and I feel out of breath, despite the fact that I was sitting on the patio for a good half an hour listening to that cricket. And there is something moving around in the tree, the one farthest away - probably a squirrel. 

Once Jim and I went to a local playground to watch children play sports and I rather liked football. Not the one they show on TV when it starts getting colder; the one they predominantly play with their feet.

The light in Todd's and Harriet's house is still on, even though it is very late (or very early?). I wonder if they fell asleep watching TV. From where I sit I cannot see inside the windows and I feel it would be inappropriate to go and look inside, even if I felt strong enough to endure the 100 or so foot walk to their house. Lately I’ve felt weaker than I typically do. Malnutrition is probably not helping. 

The squirrel sounds like it found food somewhere up in the tree. 

The following day it rained hard so after Jim returned, gave me my dinner, and I threw it up next to the bushes, I sat on the patio hoping to hear the squirrel again. It wasn't around so instead I counted stars that I could see. There were no clouds in the sky but my eyesight deteriorated significantly over the past year. The light in the house next door was on again and I wondered if it was Todd or Harriet that had insomnia. The fresh air gave me the air of confidence so after panting a bit I slowly made it down the stairs and across the lawn. Halfway through I collapsed and had to spend a good ten minutes trying to catch my breath. The walk to the window was not easy, but when I made it and peered inside I saw an empty room with lights and a TV on. 

The next day I was too exhausted to go onto the patio. Jim helped me to the restroom in the morning and I slept all day after that. 

Back when I was healthier I enticed Jim to play football with me. He routinely won but I definitely have made him sweat for it. Given my body type football was the only sport I could comfortably play. I also watched a lot of it on the TV. Jim and I stopped playing once the field iced over in October. I tried to get into other sports but my body type prevented me from doing what most could. 

The following night I had so much energy I actually went for a jog. I went from my bed, through the garden and all the way to Todd and Harriet's window. The TV was still on. I walked around their house, thinking that I could spot them through windows. Then my heart gave out and I had to lie down next to a sprinkler. So much for exercise. 

I have so much love inside of me. I have lived a life that most would only dream of. Now, though, as I get closer to crossing the bridge, I can only appreciate the moments more than I ever did. I also think about my own demise. As I get old and decrepit and useless, what does Jim think of me? Once we become a burden to the ones we love, should we continue? Should we live? Could we fight and survive another day? As I lie here, next to my soup, which will most likely be my last, I contemplate. I never hurt anyone in my life, I always tried to give others a smile. I moved in with Jim, and even though I can be a handful, I'd like to think I made his life better. 

The following night I sat on the patio until it got dark. Then I embarked on a journey to see Todd and Harriet. It took me a good 15 minutes to get to their front door. The fact the TV was still on was bothering me so I decided to inquire within. I banged on the front door to no avail, my heart pumping faster than that squirrel hid its goods. Then I pushed the door and it opened. Looks like they never locked it. Slowly I walked around the living room, TV still on. 

We tried to play other sports the following summer. Volleyball was my favorite but it never took on because Jim was too heavy to move that fast and my health was beginning to fade.  I still did enjoy running around in the sand and flipping the ball over the net. There were a few times when Jim just laid down on the sand, panting, after trying to catch the ball. Jim tried to teach me poker as well, but it was too confusing. For the life of me I never could correctly pinpoint my hand - a flush, a full house….

My bones hurt but I made it up the stairs to the second floor. I saw Todd immediately. He wore his pajamas (I guess once you get old, you are expected to own at least one pair) that had fish printed all over them. It was a pattern that made me dizzy. Harriet was in the bedroom. She wore her "going out" clothes - a nice conservative skirt and a beige blouse. A beautiful turquoise brooch around her neck.

Harriet was resting her head on the pillows. There was a small hole in her temple, a gun next to her. Todd had a cleaver. It separated his skull almost in half. A small pool of blood next to him. And it smelled. I couldn't put my finger on it but it smelled like cookies for some reason.

I made my way down. I knew why the TV was on. On my way down there was something that caught my eye. It was a fake apple, one of those you put on your table for decoration. This one was on the floor. I kicked it and it bounced down the stairs, making a hollow sound. I kicked it again on my way out, and my foot hurt for a bit. 

The following day I couldn't get out of the bed. I tried to, but even after I ate Jim’s chowder, I just couldn't. At least I could digest it. Jim came back from work after dusk and sensed that something was off. I was still in bed and I wasn't able to move. He half carried me to the patio and I finally spotted a squirrel in the trees. 

It was nice. Jim and I sat, shoulder to shoulder, and looked at the stars above. Then my heart gave up on me and I collapsed onto Jim's lap. And I could feel drops of water falling down on me as I lay there, and Jim saying he loved me. And all I tried to do was to gather the rest of my strength, and then I could. So I rose for the last time and with my last breath I licked his face.