Be Mine 11

First submission of 2024. Happy New Year to all, may health walk with you and hardship have trouble finding you. I have been shut in for most of the past month recovering from surgery and it gave me some time to sit back and think about loneliness and how it affects people who live with it, during the Holidays or at other times of the year. For some, they think it defines them. It doesn't. A different life can be a snap decision away. This is a story about one of those decisions.

Donna kicked the door shut with her foot, carrying the bags in her arms to the kitchen. Setting the supplies down, she returned to the door, kicked off her boots and turned the deadbolt. It had been a mentally draining day at work and she rested her forehead against the door while she pulled off her scarf and winter coat. She hated this apartment. Everything about it. She had been here for seven and a half months and she didn't have one happy memory here. Scratch that. One. That first satisfied cup of coffee from the teal Keurig she has been searching for since the dawn of time. She had immortalized the moment with a post on Facebook. Of 56 'friends' only her mother and one cousin had liked it.

This place, like the February day was dark and cold. Nothing like her last place. It had always been warm, bright and cozy. Full of life, even though it was smaller. That seemed like a lifetime ago. A year ago today. A lifetime in a year. Okay, more like two years.

She flicked on the ceiling light in her living area, noting the one of the two sixty watt bulbs being burned out made it even more depressing in here than usual. Time to remedy that. In the kitchen, she opened the pantry closet and pulled out the vacuum cleaner, mop and bucket and a couple of other items to access the stepladder at the back. Donna was only 4'10" and had a variety of vertical aids all over the apartment. A folding two-step in the kitchen to reach stuff in the cupboards, metal step stool in her bedroom closet to reach the shelves above the hanger bar, a plastic one in the bathroom if she needed to adjust the showerhead because it was old, loose and seven feet in the air.

Thinking about the showerhead pushed her back into the thoughts that she had been having all day. Martin had said he would come and install a wand showerhead with a lower hook if she wanted one. She did want one. She did want him to come. But, she couldn't ask him. She had just spent two months ghosting him. For a while, he had messaged her every couple of weeks to check in on her, ask how she was doing, how her parents were. She never responded right away, always leaving it for the next day, and keeping the responses vague and generic. Worse were the phone calls. She could not pretend his voice didn't soothe her, that his questions didn't make her feel like she was the only girl in the world at that moment. He could disarm her by simply wanting to know everything about her day, about how she was feeling, how she was sleeping. Like long distance pillow talk between a couple who were separated for a few days. Only they weren't a couple. Never had been. Never would be.

Donna pulled herself out of her thoughts, and carried the ladder to the living room. Returning to the kitchen, she opened the box-store bags, pulling out cleaning supplies, a new shower curtain and lots of light bulbs. Today was the day she was going to bring light back into her life. All the sixty watt bulbs were being replaced by hundred watt LEDs. No more dark, no more shadows. It took her about twenty-five minutes to change eleven bulbs.

Next came the bathroom. This was par for the course with Donna. When stressed and living too much in her head, she cleaned. Hours and hours. Today she had spent the entire day reliving the past year. Second-guessing a few decisions. One in particular. Nothing like a full re-ordering of your environment to cleanse the clutter that was preventing her mind from working effectively. She found herself at Target without even thinking. Her mind knew she was cleaning tonight even if she didn't.

She changed into some old sweat pants and a threadbare t-shirt. Grabbing the caddy of cleaning supplies, sponges and rags in the kitchen, she started by changing the shower curtain. Out with the solid white, in with the transparent. More light. After spraying the tiles and putting cleaner in the toilet, Donna turned to clean the mirror while the products needed a few minutes to foam and work.

As she cleared Windex off the mirror, she couldn't help but take stock of the woman who was there. At 43, she felt ten years older than she had at 40. But she was. She had been a young, fun, unattached 40. She was a bit of an introvert, and thrived even though she was alone. At that time her life wasn't complicated. Yet.

She looked at the lines at the corners of her eyes, the furrows across her forehead and the slight bags under her eyes. They seemed more prominent and exaggerated every day. At least today, her eyes weren't red and puffy too. No tears today. You can't fix puffy with makeup. She played in her close-cropped dark hair, checking to see if it was time to color her hair. Just that same three years ago, she only had to dye it four times a year. Now it was every six weeks. She regarded her reflection and thought of the Chet Baker song Almost Blue - 'There's a girl here and she's almost you'.

So much had happened in the last two years. Covid. Long Covid. Vertigo from an ear infection. Kidney stones. Panic attacks from the pain of the kidney stones. Covid again. A move across the city. An infection in her face that made one side swell up and had to be drained. That left a nice scar. Then her cat died unexpectedly. Oh, and somewhere in there severe anemia.

Lump on top of that her father's two-year battle with dementia that has left him a shell of his former self and her mother the bitter caretaker who didn't have much sympathy for her daughters ailments. If Donna was sick all the time, who was supposed to help her.

Donna had tried to take everything in stride, but in her darkest moments, she knew how and why she had gotten here. Karma. She had caused this herself. She had fallen in love. Completely. Head over heels. With someone else's husband.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Donna had gotten a job in the west side of the city seven years ago. She'd gone back to school at twenty nine to get her social work degree. After seven years of studying and working to pay her bills, she had her masters and gained employ with a health care network overseeing many old age homes. She found the work rewarding, but not the commute. She saw an ad for a one bedroom, second floor, cat friendly place that was only $550. She visited the apartment and loved it instantly. It was aligned East to West and got lots of light in the living room in the mornings, kitchen and back balcony in the afternoon. And the owner said that the driveway was big enough for her to have one of the spaces. She signed on the spot even though she would have to carry the rent here and lose her last month's deposit at her current place.

Life was good. Her land lady downstairs was nice and social. Her husband was nice, but quiet, always busy in the yard, planting flowers, cleaning the pool, cutting grass. It seemed like from April until October he was outside all day. The apartment beside Donna's had been occupied by a sweetheart of a man in his late sixties, Bob. He was retired but active, also spending most of his time outdoors. There were some vegetable garden beds in one corner of the yard that he and Martin tended and fretted over. There never seemed to be any great yield of vegetables, but what there was they shared proudly, happy on the return for their effort.

Then the whole world went into the snow globe. Covid. The first few months were crazy. Senior citizens were the worst hit. Staff stopped showing up, the ones who did were doing whatever they could to help. Donna watched person after person die. In one assisted living complex alone, there were more than thirty deaths. When the summer rolled around the worst was over and she decided to vacation at home, recharge. By chance, Sharon and Martin downstairs had taken the same two weeks off, staycaying too. The weather co-operated and the three of them and Bob spent the afternoons with drinks, sunning and splashing. Sharon liked to smoke a little weed in the early afternoon and would often go to nap before supper.

Donna noticed that Martin was more talkative with both she and Bob when Sharon wasn't around, especially after a couple of cocktails. And he was funny. He was a big guy that had lost a lot of weight. You could see it in the loose skin under his arms and most of his casual wear floated on him. Most importantly, he was a great listener.

The four of them made a pact that if Covid returned with the cold weather, they would be each other's bubble and have a dinner once a month and play cards or board games to break the monotony.

Donna changed jobs in the autumn, working for the government now, investigating and following up on reports of elder abuse, be it physical, mental or financial. It paid a lot more and she could work from home two days a week. After the first month, she noticed that when Sharon got home from work around four it was pretty loud for an hour downstairs. As time went on, she also noticed that it was just Sharon being loud. Yelling. Donna couldn't make out everything, but it was pretty evident by the amount of cursing that life wasn't as happy as it seemed. Then it spread to the weekends as well. Sharon would go on a tirade for a while, Martin would go for a walk, or rake leaves, turn the garden earth. Anything to be outdoors.

I spoke to Bob about it discretely and asked if it had been going on a long time, and I just hadn't realized it. He said it was new, but that Sharon hadn't really been herself since her mother had cancer and went through chemo the year before. He said that the mortality of one's parents and the acceptance that there is nothing that can be done to stop it is one of the big changes in life, and that it effected everyone differently.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Donna was on her knees scrubbing the tub, thinking back on how true, and prophetic that statement was. When she and her mother started to notice the changes in her dad, the mislaying things, the quiet periods, the withdrawing, Donna had a hard time coming to grips with it. Worse was her Mother's attitude towards the situation. Instead of researching caring for someone with dementia, she made it about herself, and many phone calls ended with Donna's Mom chastising her for not having found a man, not providing grandchildren who would be able to help care for her husband.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One afternoon in the Spring of 2021, her Mother was particularly venomous and called Donna selfish for not having a family. Who was going to look after her when she was older? Donna couldn't believe her mother's narcissism. To deal with her anger she went on a cleaning binge. After two hours, she decided to take the garbage and recycling down to the bins in the driveway.

Martin was in the driveway at the base of the stairs spray-painting something, a hinge or a latch or something. He looked up and smiled, but then it faded and he dropped the paint can. Instead of his usual 'Hey Donna, how's it going?' he said, "Donna, is everything Okay"

"Yeah... I' m fine, you?" Donna said, turning quick to dump her recycling. When she turned back, Martin's head cocked to one side, and his brow was furrowed.

"Nope. You're not fine. Your eyes are brown instead of hazel and you're carrying all kinds of stress in your shoulders. What's going on?"

Donna tried to formulate a comeback, but ended up exhaling and losing her composure altogether. The next thing she knew she was in his arms sobbing and letting everything out. When she started hyperventilating a bit she tried to push away. He held her tighter. "Let it all go. Then we can talk it through if you want."

When Donna was done, Martin relaxed his hold on her and asked her if she wanted to go for a walk. She knew why. If Sharon came home, she would start calling for him right away. They walked to a park five blocks away and sat on a bench in the sun as Donna told Martin everything. He listened intently, interjecting only when he needed more information.

Donna worried that her Mom was right and she was wasting her life, that she had no friends, that it had no purpose. Martin took her hands in his and told her that she not only had friends, she was loved, whether she realized it or not. She looked confused. He told her that both he and Bob felt like she was a little sister, and that if her own family couldn't treat her right that she was part of their family now. Donna hugged him until her arms got sore.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Donna felt the burn in her arms as she was pulling her bed out from the wall to vacuum. As she walked back to the headboard, she noticed a couple of cat hair dust-bunnies against the baseboard. Fritz. It had been five months since her cat had died. Her companion for seven years. She would always hate this apartment just for the association of coming home and finding Fritz in full seizure. Donna tried to find a vet in her new neighborhood, but Fritz was gone before she even got through to any.

That had sparked a month of depression. That and the fact that Martin called when he found out and talked to her for a while. She had been trying to ween off messaging with him because it wasn't healthy for either of them. Now looking at the ball of gray fur, it reminded her of the lump in her throat that took forever to swallow when instead of saying goodbye before hanging up, he had said, "I love you Dodo." Donna had spent months trying to reprogram her heart and head after leaving that place, and all the work was undone in an instant. He didn't know what he did. How could he. She had never told him how she felt. She bottled everything up inside.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Donna stood at the kitchen sink, vigorously washing her two work water flasks with a bottlebrush, working her emotions out while eradicating bacteria. For the hundredth time she wished she had a window in her kitchen to look out of while at the sink or prepping food on the counter. She stopped scrubbing, falling back into memories.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The kitchen window over the sink had been directly above Martin and Sharon's. When the weather was above ten degrees, their window would be open, and the air filled with Martin's voice. Country, Americana, 80s rock. What it all had in common was love. He would sing along to songs of love, loss, regret and redemption, it didn't matter. No matter the song, or how the artist intended, Martin sang them with hope. Hope that there was love. Hope that it did exist.

Most days there was a narrow window of forty-five minutes when Martin could sing while prepping supper before Sharon got home and the demands, the berating, the chastising started. Without fail, the first imperative was to 'turn that fuckin music off!' And with that, he would acquiesce, and turn from the messenger of hope to a reluctant inmate, incarcerated in a marriage that stifled song and disobedience.

During the end of summer and autumn of her fifth year at the apartment, Donna felt a shift in the status quo downstairs. Martin would spend as much time outside as possible. She would set up a small table on the back balcony when working from home. They would chat about everything under the sun, in those gaps before Sharon arrived home. Donna even started showing up earlier at the office on days that she had to go in or was on the road so that she could be home by three and have some of Martin to herself.

He even started calling her Dodo. She remembered telling him it wasn't nice to call her a dummy. Martin shook his head and laughed. "You last name is Dorchester. Donna Dorchester. Do-Do." She blushed, embarrassed that she hadn't picked up on it, but it was also from the butterflies in her stomach. No one had ever given her a pet name before. Sure, she had past boyfriends who had used endearing terms like Babe or Honey. No one had ever bestowed a pet name on her that was for her alone.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After mopping the floors, Donna made a Gin and Tonic, and went to sit down before realizing she had not eaten since noon. Going to the kitchen, she got a slice of marble cake. Her growling stomach appreciated the offering even if her mouth didn't. She loved sweets. This store bought stuff didn't cut it for her anymore. Martin was a baker. When he had free time and ingredients to use up, he baked. Or cooked. But mostly baked. Sweet loaves, cookies, scones. Especially those scones. Whenever he made anything, he made enough that he would give some to herself and Bob. At least twice a week he was bringing something upstairs for his neighbors.

If it was summer, he offered them containers of watermelon, pineapple, etc. Things a single person might not necessarily purchase because some would get wasted. Martin always thought of his neighbors. If someone was sick, there was soup. Donna would always get excited when the building smelled of vanilla, sugar or anything sweet because it meant an incoming text from Martin and a quick visit from him. Everything was always delicious. Like the theme of love in his songs he sang, she could taste that love in everything he cooked.

If he was clipping flowers in the garden to make a vase for Sharon he would set one outside Donna's back door, so she would find it when she got home. If it was a long weekend and she was at her parents he would text Donna to wish her parents and herself a happy holiday.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In that fifth year she realized Martin was lonely. As lonely as she was. If Sharon was out for the evening, or away with her family overnight, Martin would invite Donna to eat with him. Sometimes she took him up on his offer, but only if it was nice out so they could eat outside. She didn't feel right eating in their place, at the dining room table unless it was all four of them, with Bob. She didn't want anyone getting the impression that she was taking Sharon's spot, that she was a placeholder. Mostly she didn't want to give herself the impression that she was a placeholder.

Sometimes she would decline, claiming she had prepared her supper. But those times she would suggest they have some coffee or some wine on the deck afterwards. They would sit for hours and talk about anything, but often about Donna's upbringing, family, genealogy. Martin knew more about her than her parents did, but he always had another question, another corner of her past to unearth. They would sit together until the chill of the night air drove them into extra articles of clothing and eventually inside..

Donna thought back to when she first realized she didn't just have feelings for Martin, but that she was in love with him. She had some kidney stone problems and ended up in Emerge. He texted her to find out where the ambulance took her, then showed up and stayed with her all night. Donna protested, sighting not wanting problems with Sharon. Martin assured her that it wasn't a concern because Sharon was at a chalet girls weekend with friends. He held her hand, reassured her that they would be able to do something for the pain soon, made sure she was drinking water, even though the thought of trying to pass that water later scared the shit out of her. She knew that he was right, that he was here, and that for the first time in her adult life she could let her guard down and let herself feel protected, looked after.