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TITLE (EDIT)
Providing For Sarah |
DESCRIPTION
A desolate man finds comfort in an imaginary (?) companion. But who will care for her when he's gone?
[883 words] |
TITLE KEYWORD
Mind |
AUTHOR
Xoggoth |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
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[March 2004] |
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Providing For Sarah
Xoggoth
I have done all I can. Sarah came to me back in 05 or 06, forget which. Just so tired now and my mind is hazy, dimming toward a final extinction.
It was summer then too. The bell rang; too insistently to ignore. The bloke was smartly dressed, elderly and looked as ill as I have seen anyone look outside of a coffin. Even in the bright July sunshine his complexion appeared dull grey. He held an expensive looking bunch of flowers. "Hello" he said "Sorry to bother you but I wonder if I could look around, I have..." He paused, apparently searching for words "...connections here"
"Its not really convenient at the moment". It was of no interest to me if this sick old bloke was an improbable conman or thief and I no longer gave a damn if people saw how I lived, the discarded underclothes, the unwashed plates, all the dirt and detritus and stench of a existence spent mostly in sleep. Since the wife died and then the illness I just never wanted to see anyone. In the beginning I had had intentions. Eating out of a tin, I would say to myself "Tomorrow, for sure, I'll start to get myself out of this". Before going back to bed. After a few months I just ate from the tin, skipped the intentions, and went back to bed, It saved energy.
"Actually" he said, "Its really just the garden I'd like to see". Some spark of interest was left in me. "Well ok" I said "come round the side". He seemed to have a purpose and with little conversation made a slow halting path to the bottom of the overgrown garden. Looking around as if to get his bearings he laid the flowers just behind the greenhouse with its broken panes and then stood silently looking at the ground. After a minute he came to. He gestured at the long unkempt grass. "Sarah". And walked off a little quicker than he had come, as though some burden heavier than the flowers had gone from him. I just stood staring at the ground.
Maybe I should have called the police; not really sure why I didn't, but for some odd reason the whole affair seemed like something private. I spent a couple of hours that afternoon with the fork and spade but found nothing more macabre than broken glass and earthworms. It was the most effort I had expended in a year and it left me aching but less depressed than I had felt in all that time. That evening I watched the news on TV. Does not sound much I know, but it was the first time I had had any interest in the world for so long.
Next morning I walked down there and, standing in the mud, felt less alone. "Who are you" I whispered "and why are you here?" Although there was no sound except the rustle of the wind in the Beech hedge and the murmur of traffic on the main road, an amused female voice "Sarah and I'm here for you". I started to stop by Sarah's place several times a day after that. I left little bouquets of the nicer weeds. I told her of all my grief and my loss and loneliness as I had never been able to tell anyone living or real. Sarah listened and understood and comforted and it seemed with every confidence another little piece of my cloud lifted from me. Within six months I had started to live in the world again, get out, rebuild friendships. I kept on talking to Sarah, my new life's steady companion, leaving proper flowers from the improving garden, sitting by her little patch come rain or sun, no longer conscious of any strangeness in talking to a square of earth with nothing under it but earthworms.
I had five or six good years with Sarah. Two months ago they found the cancer was back and it's everywhere it seems. Nothing they can do and I have been discharged from the hospital. Sent home to die. I told Sarah of course and as usual she was my strength and helped me to accept. When I awoke this morning to the July sun the certainty was solid inside me. It was the last time I would ever wake. So hard to get out of bed. At the window I looked at the garden and the little area behind the greenhouse. Panic, not for myself, I am resigned to it now, but what will happen to Sarah when I am gone? Left alone down there. Who else will understand, bring her flowers and talk to her?
There is a chap in the next village who lost his wife a few months ago. Sees nobody and has really let himself go I heard. It took me almost an hour this morning to make myself presentable in my decent suit and as long again to make the short walk to the bus stop. I walked up the weedy front path, carrying the flowers Mrs. Avery gave me and rang the bell. After a long delay, my fourth ring brought an unshaven man in a dirty vest to the door. There was a stale odour of unwash.
"Hello" I said "Sorry to bother you but.."
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2004 Xoggoth |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
February 2004 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2077
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