Gables Court by Alan S. Kessler

Author:Alan S. Kessler [, Alan S. Kessler]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Published: 2016-03-09T16:00:00+00:00

Part II

Vase with Dead Leaves

1

Always willing to give her opinion, Vera made a difficult choice for him even harder.

“Are you crazy? Buy a condominium? You’re lucky you can afford toilet paper!”

“I’ve saved a little. The bank’s ready to foreclose. To get a mortgage I have to live there.”

“If you’re going to help someone, help me! Not some worthless drunk you feel sorry for! You’re an idiot!”

Samuel had lived with Mrs. Damour for two years and with her had a home. But Pierre and his wife, Lovely, about to lose their condo, needed money. So Samuel bought the unit from them. On a rainy day, they moved out and he moved in.

Once a week, for a year, Samuel visited Mrs. Damour, shopped for her groceries and mowed the lawn, until all this suddenly ended. Excited to see her, he had brought a chocolate cake, her favorite dessert. No one answered when he knocked on the door. He tried again. A neighbor, walking his dog, told him she had died. Samuel took the cake back to the condominium and opened a bottle of Mateus. The cake with wine tasted bitter.

He often drove slowly past the dark house and remembering her, knew she had loved him. One night, after turning onto her street, Samuel saw a light in the window and thought the impossible.

She’s in there, waiting for me to come home.

Out of the car and at the fence, he pushed open the rusting iron gate, its hinges squeaking.

No, this is crazy.

Ready to turn and leave, Samuel stopped when the front door opened.

“If you’re planning on robbing me, you’re a noisy son-of-a-bitch,” the man said while holding onto the door handle for support. “Let me save you the trouble. There’s nothing here worth stealing. If you’re selling something, I’m not buying. If you want to bring me to Jesus, take Him and your goddamn fairy tales with you and get the fuck away!” Coughing, he bent over.

“Are you OK?” Samuel asked. “Should I call a doctor?”

“Fuck you!” Breathing heavily, he slumped down, sat head against his knees.

Samuel hurried to the porch and easily lifted him up.

“…I don’t need shit…” Very thin and frail, he leaned on Samuel who, after helping him inside, then onto the couch, went into the kitchen and brought back a glass of water.

“I can make tea. You’re shivering.”

“You can fucking leave. Let me have it.” He took the glass, drank, swallowing a pill.

Samuel got a blanket from the closet and placed it across the man’s legs.

“How’d you know where to find that?”

“I lived here until last year,” Samuel answered. “This room’s so dark. Let me turn on another light.” He did, just as the man said no.

Samuel snapped the lamp off and stepped back from the couch. He had seen him clearly: thin blond mustache, bright yellow hair, a gaunt face covered with purple spots.

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