Exo

So! This is new. This actually isn't going to be about movies. This is going to be anything that I write that is unrelated to movies. I may put some sh*t in here from my job inspecting vacant houses. I've been asked to do so for a while now. I also like to write short stories from time to time. So, while it may not be updated often, this is a place where I'll put my stuff. Thanks.





The Window
This was inspired by an episode of Radiolab on NPR I heard recently. My own words, but the story is real and not mine.

It was dark when I noticed it. The apartment directly across the street from me had always been occupied but rarely has there ever been anything to look at through the window. The last guy had blinds. He left them closed all day. The woman before that had put a dresser in front of it. I'd hate to see what the rest of her place looked like. The couple before her had intended that room to be their new baby room. There was a crib and bright blue wallpaper with planes and clouds on them. That lasted a month. I think something happened because after that, nobody went into the room anymore, so it was dark all the time. The entire time I have lived in this apartment, I could never see into that window, until now.

I've lived here for seven years. My wife died three years ago. She was 58. I remember the day she told me she had stage four breast cancer. I remember the day she died. Three long years ago she died. I decided I couldn't leave this place just yet. I couldn't just move to a different place without my wife. I wasn't ready yet. So, I stayed. I've been retired ever since moving here. I worked for the postal service for thirty years. We moved here to start a new chapter in our lives and before it could get started, the book ended. I don't mean to be so dreary. That's just what happened. I've been living off my savings, social security, and a small pension from work. Ever since my wife died, I haven't been doing much. I go out sometimes. I take walks and drink beers down at the corner bar. Most of the time I'm inside this apartment. I watch television and movies I get in the mail. I read books and draw pictures for my kids. Well, I guess it's really for my grandchildren. My kids are too old for that.

So here I am, staring out the window as I occasionally do, and this window is alive again. Before long I found out that a new couple had moved into the unit. They were young, full of life. I know this because this must have been their first night and already they were going at each other like animals. Maybe they were newlyweds. All I know is that they were full of life. I tried to give them their privacy. I tried. The angle of our building however left me no choice. Their apartment was all I could see. The units to the left and right were lifeless, as was the top and bottom units. Even if they weren't, I wouldn't be able to see much from where I was. This one however was different. I've never seen two people hate wearing clothes as much as these two did. Every time I glanced out the window they were strutting around their house with no clothes on. They were in love. I saw the man come home from work, the woman already in bed. He must work uptown because it was usually 8 or 9 when he'd stroll into the bedroom. She'd get up, give him a kiss and hug, and he'd melt into her arms. I never stayed for what happens next, but their window was always open, curtains never closed.

It's hard to see a couple like that, so in love. It made me miss my wife. The last couple years weren't too kind to our sex lives. She was sick with cancer for the last two, sick of me for the previous ten. Something about having children does that to a marriage. We certainly had our moments, but I'd say it's been twenty five years since there was that much love and passion in our lives. Don't get me wrong, I love my wife. She was my best friend. Raising four children and five grandchildren on the weekends can really take the wind out of you though. When I watched the couple across the street, I saw a glimpse into what my life used to look like, what it used to feel like. I became obsessed.

Each morning I would wake up to see what was going on next door. It's already 11:00 on Saturday and these two haven't gotten out of bed yet. I've been getting up at five every morning since our first was born. Months of getting up before the sun can sometimes get hardwired into your brain. It did for me. By the time these two were up and ready to go I had already had my lunch and was looking forward to a nap. They had friends over this weekend. Two couples. I saw them getting ready for what looked like a hike or some sort of outdoors activity. They left and I went to a movie. I came home a couple hours later and they had already gotten back. This must have been the first time their friends had seen their new apartment because the woman was showing her bedroom like it was part of a tour. A wine glass adjoined each one of their hands. How nice, they must all be having dinner together. My wife used to throw great parties. I'd get the guys from the post office over. They'd drag their wives and my wife would invite her sisters, her sisters friends, and all the husbands that go along with that. We haven't done that in years of course. This was back when we had a house to fit four kids into. I miss that house. This apartment was our little getaway. We wanted to be near people, but nobody we had ever met before. Naturally, we moved to the city.

It had gotten to a point where I was thinking about them during the day. I wondered if they fought or screamed at each other. Did the man have a temper? Was the woman stubborn? Who was the one to initiate the apology? My wife was horrible at apologies. Usually it would be days before I was able to get her to talk to me again. She wouldn't apologize, but rather act like it was all a dream and move on from it. Normally this would drive me crazy, but after a while I started to notice that she would cook me a special meal at the end of the week. I guess that was her apology. I liked that. I wondered if they talked about having children. The woman definitely wanted to have kids. I would catch her talking on the phone to somebody and touching her stomach as if she were pregnant. I liked to think that it was her mother that was on the other end of the line, nagging to her about when she was going to get a grandchild. I wondered what the man thought about all this or whether he even thought about it all. I thought about these things constantly. I started to watch less TV. Who needed fake shows with fake people on them when I had something real right outside my window? I wondered if they ever saw me looking over at them, but they're young, they would have said something if they did. "What you lookin' at old man!?" they'd shout. I don't think I've been found out yet.

This continued for about a year. Every morning I'd wake up and occasionally see them making love. I'd leave them be, but felt a deep happiness inside that they were still in love and making the most of their lives together. I'd peer over at them before going to bed. They'd be watching television and the man would start to mimick some idiot on the TV, and the woman would laugh, and laugh, and laugh. I'd catch the woman on some afternoons dancing in her bedroom with her headphones on. I remembered taking my wife to ballroom dancing classes, much to my dismay, and taking turns making a fool out of ourselves. She was never any good at it, but she loved to dance. I liked to make her happy.

As the days went by, I started to see them less. There was about a two week stretch where they would sporadically be absent from each other for long periods of time. This was unusual because they did everything together. When they were with each other, there was just something wrong about them. They sat in bed and waited until one fell asleep and then the other would turn out the light. It was almost always the man who fell asleep first. There was no more dancing. No more naked mornings. Before long the light was off and stayed off for days. Then the woman would come home, exhausted, sleep for a day, and go back out, leaving the room dark again. I thought maybe they were fighting. Maybe they had broken up. Maybe the man had moved out and that the woman had to work multiple jobs to keep the apartment. Whatever it was, it affected me. I started to worry. I mean, REALLY worry. I worried that she wasn't going to be able to afford the apartment and would have to move out. I was worried that a new couple would move in and that they would close the curtains. I worried the most about what was happening to the couple I had invested so much time into. I know that sounds crazy. I know that sounds creepy. These people though, they weren't just a couple on the other side of the street. They were something to live for. Watching them live their lives reminded me of the life I had lived. My wife was dead. I couldn't change that. I wasn't going to get a new one and I wasn't going to forget my old one. These two people reminded me of the memories that I had packed away long ago. They reminded me of everything that was cherished in my life. It made me realize how lucky I was to have something like that. I wanted them back.

It was dark when I noticed it. The light was back on. I caught it out of the corner of my eye as I was walking past my window. I immediately stopped what I was doing and gazed out to the other apartment. There was a man in the window, looking out to the street. He didn't see me looking. He just stared down at the people walking under the street lights. I didn't recognize him at first. He was gaunt and skinny as hell. He didn't have any hair and it looked like he had a hospital bracelet on his wrist. The woman came in behind him. I recognized her. The woman went over to the man and kissed him on the back of his head. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and just sat with him as he stared down to the streets. This was the man. This was why I haven't seen them in so long. The man must be very sick, sick enough to make him almost unrecognizable. She must have been staying with him at whatever hospital he was staying at. Maybe he was staying at his parents house. All I knew was that a flood of emotions hit me all at once and I had no idea how to handle them. I was sad. The man seemed to be so sick. He must have and must be suffering a lot due to him being absent for so long. I hoped it wasn't as serious as I thought, but I knew it most likely was. I was happy. I was happy because I had my neighbors back. I had the two people who made me happy back in my life. That happiness, while still there a little bit, started to fade as I realized that I didn't really have them back. They were different. Everything was different.

I rarely left the window sill. I wanted to see how the man was doing. Was today the day that starts his recovery? Will today be the day that he realizes he's going to get better? Is he going to jump out of bed, wrap his arms around the woman, and scream at the top of his lungs that he's going to be okay? It wasn't the day. That day never came. Each day he seemed to get weaker. At first he would actually get up, take a shower, make himself breakfast, lunch, dinner. The woman would come home and he'd try to give her a hug and kiss. He'd start coughing into his hand and she would lead him to his bed, laying him down gently before laying down herself. Then there were the days he couldn't get up at all. He'd lay in his bed, the woman bringing him his breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She would lay down next to him, stroking the back of his head and talking to him, kissing him on the back of his head.

More people started to come by the apartment. They all came to the room. Some sat and stayed for a while. Some stood, said a few words, and left. I started to realize that the man was most likely on his death bed and that it wouldn't be long from now. As much as I wanted to give this man his privacy, I couldn't. I have been a part of their lives, even though they didn't know it, for the better part of the last two years. I couldn't leave the window. I sat there thinking about him, thinking about the woman and what she must be going through. I had been there. I watched my wife die. I know that feeling of not wanting to leave the one I love, but also not wanting to see them in this way. After a while, you start to forget what they were like. You start to forget that they once had hair, meat on their bones, and life in their bodies. They didn't have tubes coming out of their arms or machines beeping at every second of the day. These were the people we loved, the people we had shared our lives with. I thought of my wife a lot during those last days. I thought about that woman, and how much I wanted to be there for her. I couldn't leave the window.

It only took a couple weeks. It was a Friday. After having to go to the store to get food for fear of starving to death, I got home to a scene I wished I wouldn't have come home to. There were candles lit. The man was in his bed. The woman was on his side. There was another woman there, much older than the both of them. I assumed it was his mother. It was just the three of them, and me. Here was a man who had lived a short but ultimately fulfilling life with somebody he loved. The man was going to die. I could see both of the women wiping tears from their eyes. I knew he was going to be leaving soon. The woman turned to the older woman and must have asked for some time alone because she immediately left the room. I saw the both of them, looking into each other eyes, potentially for the last time. I saw the woman speaking very softly, stroking the mans cheek and gently kissing the front of his head. My heart ached for this woman. This is the moment that she never wanted to happen. This was the moment that she would lose the man she loved, but also lost the weight of such an event. These things are so heavy on the soul that when the person you love, who has been suffering for so long, when that person finally goes it's sad, but it's also a huge relief. I wanted to be there for her.

They came in the morning. The coroner and a few assistants came a little after sunrise to take away the body. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was the emotion of it all, but I suddenly found myself out of my chair with my shoes on, running down the stairs. I didn't know what I was doing. I guess I wanted to say goodbye to somebody that had been so much a part of my life for the past two years. I raced down the hallway and out the exit door to my building. The coroner was just wheeling the gurney out of the front door. I noticed the woman and what I assume to be the mans mother, talking next to the ambulance. They noticed me. I stopped. What was I supposed to say? "Hello. I'm from next door. I've been watching you from my window for the last two years. Sorry for your loss." I couldn't say that. I couldn't say anything. They gave me a look like I was a rubbernecker. They looked at me like I was just some guy who saw something happening down the street and decided to investigate. Truth was, I was a rubbernecker. I happened to be next to these people lives and for two years observed their life without permission. I know how that looks and sounds to most people. I know that nothing I say to this woman would ever get her to understand what she meant to me, what he meant to me. I couldn't say anything. I turned around and went back upstairs.

I went into the kitchen and up to the window. I closed my curtains. I sat down in my chair and dug my face into my hands and cried. I cried all night. I thought about my wife. I thought about the couple next door. I thought about everything as I sat there and cried.

I still don't know their names. I don't know what the man died of. I poured over the obituaries for weeks and tried to find somebody that matched his description but I couldn't find anything. I still don't know what happened. I kept the window closed for a long time. I called my kids. I realized how little I talked to them and I made dates to go see my grandchildren. I visited my wife often. Before this whole thing I couldn't get myself to go as often as I would have liked. Too much pain. Every time I went all I remembered was the pain she went through at the end, the pain I went through. The woman across the street stayed in her apartment. I'd see her walking down the road, probably on her way home from work, as I took my strolls around the neighborhood. I never said hello. I still didn't know what to say. She seemed to be doing okay and that's all that mattered.

One day I decided that I was going to open my window again. I told myself that I wouldn't sit at it and look across the street. I had to live my life. I had to be okay just as this woman was in the other window. She went through the same thing as I did and she's living her life. I opened the window. It had been a long time. The window creaked and groaned as I pushed it open. It must have been louder than I thought because when I looked up, there was the woman across the street, in her window, looking at me. She must have heard the noise. She took a second, smiled, and lifted her hand to wave at me.

I waved back.

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