One Evening

I remember I had just turned seventy, I got a mail from my son and his bitch of a wife, congratulating me on making it on to another year of misery, apologising that they can't visit for a reason they never mentioned, but promising that they will as soon as things settle down for them; I imagined his wife repulsed by the idea of visiting an old retired man in his small apartment, that smelled of pills, soup and death. My son included  a sum of money, even after warning him never to do that again, he's always been a worrier; just like his late mother, no matter how many times I used to tell her I'm fine, she would still worry, he's just like her, I always hated that quality in them. I took the money and placed it in an envelope, writing in a small piece of paper:

'Dear son, I will break your legs, 

if you ever send me money again. 

love, Dad' 

I wrote the address and put on my coat to go down to the mailbox at the beginning of the street.

The apartment opposite mine was crowded with boxes, the door was left open, and I could see even more boxes inside, I wondered about the new neighbour who will take residence, I sure hope they're not as annoying as the three couples who lived here before, I hated having to share the floor with anyone else, so this was already starting to become a problem, as I've put on my hat to go down the stairs, I saw her dragging two bags up the stairs, she looked up when she saw me standing there, smiled at me and said underneath her tired breaths, "I'm so sorry these are the final ones, I promise" I was startled by the sudden charm, no one around this area even knows what the word 'sorry' means, I shook my head immediately, and went down a couple of steps to carry her bag for her instead of standing there like a dumb doormat, "It's okay" I mumbled as I felt forced not to be an ass, carried her bag to her new apartment, then turned around to leave but not before saying: "Welcome to the shittiest harbour in town" I heard her chuckle behind my back, responding quietly: "Thank you"

**Here is my account of a story that was cut short, 

by what some would consider a tragedy, 

and why it was quite the opposite for me** 

It was on one of those lazy lonely afternoons, where you're laying around with nothing to do, reading yesterday's paper because you couldn't bother fetching the latest news, that I heard my doorbell ringing once, the noise almost made me spill my cold coffee, I thought it was the landlord, being an asshole as usual, reminding me of my rent three weeks in advance; just because I'm an old fart doesn't mean I forget the basic transaction that occur every month, the way the world perceives the elderly is the reason why this country is in shit-state.. what a bunch of pretentious idiots.

I got up from my chair, dragging frustration as a tail, till I opened the door and saw her standing there, she was a young woman, that was the first thought that popped to my brain, I must've not noticed her features when she was pulling the boxes to her apartment the other day; she didn't look a day above twenty-three, very beautiful indeed, not in the conventional sense; she was dressed in what looked like her brother's hand-me-down shirt, a worn-out jeans, her hair was cut short, and her face was make-up free, regardless of these long-established forms of defying the aesthetics, there was a certain beauty about her, one that no man can possibly deny; the characteristic kind that's difficult to define, and impossible to forget.

"Hello?" She smiled at me with patient eyes, clearly not disturbed by the old man staring at her, and examining her face like a dignified creep; I wondered how often she had to face that till it stopped becoming a problem for her, perhaps it still is, I shouldn't prolong this anymore, for my brain would start drifting to a place unknown.

"Hello there" I replied "I'm sorry to bother you" She proceeded, oh boy she sure was nice, everything bothers me and never once did it apologise, "The phone in my apartment isn't working, I went to the landlord downstairs, he didn't answer, he must've gone someplace" I highly doubt that, he was probably asleep or maybe watching road-rage episodes with a can of tuna stuffed to his face, "Would it be okay if I make a quick phone call from yours? I won't take long" her demeanour was as apologetic as her tone; and there was something about it, I can't really grasp it, I wondered if she was actually apologising for me or mainly herself for needing someone, I couldn't quite grasp it.

"Sure, go ahead" I gestured to her, and stepped out of the way, pointing towards the telephone in the living room, I watched her dial the number, talking discreetly, after she was done, she came back and whispered "Thank you very much" and was on her way back to her apartment. I watched her as she walked across the corridor, to her apartment, until she locked the door behind her, there was something indefinite of the aura that seemed to surround her; mesmeric in a way, I haven't experienced before, it pulled you in, all so effortlessly, and yet not without a warning.

I've encountered her a few times after that day, she was always polite in a hurried way, like she couldn't wait to be on her own again, although one time I remember, meeting her on the lobby downstairs, she couldn't hide the enthusiasm in her tone, as she told me how happy she was that the downstairs neighbour's cat was finally back home, after writing flyers and hanging them all over the block, for almost a week, there was no news until a young boy, brought the lost cat home, I saw how helping others filled her with joy, and we talked for almost an hour there, she told me about her childhood's pet, and how she experienced grief for the first time as a seven year old, when it died and she couldn't spell a magic trick to bring it to life, I wanted her to talk more, but she was quick to leave as usual, petting the cat and congratulating its owner for its safe return, the old woman holding the cat, gratefully chanting thank you's, as she left to her flat.

There was one evening that stuck the most, the evening I remember most, it was probably a few days leading up to the incident, I remember she was at my door, and asked me if it would be alright if she could spend some time with me, 'there's something very destructive about being left alone in this hour';  her exact words as I remember, I invited her in and offered her some water, we sat opposite each other in the living room, she was breathing quite heavily, and it seemed like she'd been crying, there was something broken in her, something completely devastated, it was very clear to see.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted your evening" she spoke quietly while sipping from the cup, "You didn't, is everything alright?" I was obviously too concerned, too quickly, she put her cup down and shook her head, I was looking at her, trying to sense what must be going on inside of her mind, it was like a totally different girl was sitting in front of me, her intoxicating smile was gone, and her eyes was soaked with sadness; something a little more than that.

"You can tell me" I said reassuring, not entirely certain myself if I can be of any help, but I felt that she had a lot to say, and only needed someone to hear her.

"I'm not sure how much more I can push through, I thought a new beginning should suffice, a new town, a new job, a new apartment, a new me. I honestly thought I could cheat it, that I could work my way around it, that I could forget its waiting for me, until things starts to go fine for me, it appears, to remind me; that I can't escape it, I've tried many times before. People kept telling me to give it some time, to be patient, I did that, and nothing seems different, I've put in a lot of effort into building myself over and over again, but I always crumbled down, to pick myself up and try again, every time. I can't anymore"

"Is there a significance to this date, perhaps?" I spoke after a few moments, she looked at me, with eyes that begged to speak of unspoken truths, and I knew then I couldn't be of help to her, she was lost, so lost in a place beyond retain.

"I was raped on this date" she laughed and tears rolled down her cheeks at the same moment, "I can't believe I could just say it like that, I was never able to tell anyone before. It seems like it happened a long time ago, but I can still remember that night, I remember his face, his words, how he held me and how he left me to die after he took what he wanted. I wished he would kill me, I even begged him to, but he laughed and said 'how will u remember this night if you died, where's the fun in that?' I tried to kill myself that night when I managed to find my way home, but my family were too soon to catch up with me, they send me to therapists, and made me take all kinds of pills, I slept all day and night, I've spent a year of my life asleep. That was until I decided to move, because I thought that the place was the problem, that I could never heal if I kept walking down the street of where it happened"

"I was born with a desperate need for love, just like everyone else, but mine was different, it yearned for the wrong kind of love; the one that only caused me pain and suffering. I was abused as a child, by four different men, in seven different occasions, I never talked about that either, because I thought it was normal, I thought it never effected me, that was until I took a look at the men I've been involved with, and how they've treated me, I was repeating a vicious cycle, and there was no way to break it.

I pray for a higher entity everyday to grant me relief, with what little faith I can find within me, and yet nothing seems to change. I believe that life wasn't made for everyone, I know that sounds stupid, but I didn't come to this conclusion by giving up, I didn't give up, not easily anyway, I've tried more times than I can mention to fight this, but I'm the same child I was years ago. I'm as scared and insecure as I was back then,  I haven't changed at all. I only fooled myself into believing that I did"

I was quiet for what seemed like a long period of time, she was staring at me with dried eyes, I wasn't sure if she wished I would say something, to relieve her suffering, that took control over her life, what could I possibly say? Everything would come out sounding like a tired motto at this moment, as if she was reading my mind, she said:

"Please don't bother yourself with this, this was so selfish of me. I'm going to excuse myself, thank you for listening to me. I know my words are safe in your palms"

And with that she left, before I could stop her, went back to her apartment and that was the last I've ever heard from her. five days after, the landlord went to collect the rent, and that was when he discovered her, dead in her bed, she overdosed on some medication, she didn't leave any note behind her, nobody came to collect her body, so I said to burry her in the town's graveyard, since it was the place where she spent her final days.

I often find my mind wandering to that evening, if I could've said anything to try and change her mind, if it would've even made any difference, I think she held on for as long as it took, to bare her secrets with someone else, she desired for someone to learn her story, and she settled for that someone being me. life was a burden for her, she gave up on finding the happiness in it, along time ago, she went through more than anyone should go through during a stage of their lives, and that left her lost and confused, unable to trust that good things can happen to people like her. I do believe she found the relief she sought for so many years; in that evening, it might've not been what she expected, but somehow it was enough for her.

I do dream about her every now and again, she became the mystery to keep me company during the remaining days.

I am now seventy-one years old, just received a letter from my son apologising for not visiting, and a sum of money attached with the letter, I took a paper, wrote him to thank him, and included the money back, stepped outside of my apartment to send it, when I took a look at the apartment opposite mine, the corridor was empty, life seemed to lose its taste once again, and I never wished to share the floor with anyone as I did today.