A light breeze rippled across Jim’s arms, his stare drifted from the cherry tree in the garden down to his right wrist. The hairs bristled with new life, the goosebumps stood to attention as he felt the shiver roll across his body. For a moment he closed his eyes, birdsong above, nestled somewhere near the heavens, he brought his tongue to his teeth and focused harder, in the distance drifting over the fences came the sounds of children playing, of dogs barking. All of this as the breeze continued to blow.
Life before wasn’t interesting, it wasn’t worth the time to partake, let alone notice, but now? He opened his eyes, bending from his stoop on the patio to grab fistfuls of crumbling yellow grass, more a field of hay than a garden. Too much sun, or not enough water, Jim wasn’t sure which, but it was neglected all the same. He could see it now though, and it caused his head to turn, back to the looping hose weaved with webs from the spiders who called it home. That might have worked better, a thought he pushed from his mind as quickly as it had entered, instead he stood up and walked over to it. The tap gave after a small protest, a squeaking frightened sort of sound as the water flowed and the hose plumped, as if Jim had created life or willed a snake into being right there on his patio.
The grass drank like it had been lost at sea. The moisture disappeared like magic as the sun above beamed down. At first Jim found it awkward, yanking and pulling at the hose to reach every blade, but soon he found it peaceful. He was giving back, a melancholic thought for sure, he’d win no prizes or receive no adulation, but it was a start. Something for once that wasn’t only wrapped up in himself. After he was done, he tidied the hose back up, muttering an apology to the spiders he had just evicted. They’d adjust, they’d adapt, if he came to look tomorrow the webs would be spun once more, no doubt.
Tomorrow.
That was an idea, the word repeated in his mind causing a smile to spring upon his face, a churlish sort of grin that preceded a deep belly laugh. Jim now doubled over in front of the hose, beside his damp lawn, adding his own sound to the meze of noise floating up and down the street.
‘What are you laughing about neighbour?’ Half a head appeared over the fence like an apple waiting to be bobbed.
Jim wiped his eyes, ‘Tomorrow I think.’
‘Tell me about it, if this continues much longer we’ll need to eat everything in the freezer let alone the fridge.’
Jim’s was empty, he had made sure. Maybe he wasn’t so selfish after all.
‘What are you guys doing?’ Before small talk was mandatory, emotionless, forced. But now he found himself curious.
‘That’s what I was going to ask, we’re having a bit of a cook-out with all the stuff we have to eat before it spoils. Plenty to go around. You’re more than welcome.’
Jim hesitated, it wasn’t as if he had plans, or not that he didn’t want to go. No it was…it was…
‘Say, I’m so sorry, I don’t even know your name! Neighbours for how long, and gosh, I’m Jim by the way.’
‘Well today’s a good excuse to get to know each other isn’t it. I’m Shell, and I can introduce the others when I’m not a set of eyeballs floating above the fence.’ She said.
Jim nodded, at first for Shell, and then again for himself, and then again and again until he thought he should speak. ‘I’ve got a few things to sort here, and then I’ll pop over. Thank you so much for the invite, today’s been tough.’
‘People around here look out for each other. See you in a bit!’ As the eyes submerged.
Jim moved inside and headed upstairs. Each step he felt more and more like a new man. Before his bedroom was the bathroom, he stopped and surveyed the scene. This time instead of nodding, he found his head shaking. Where the breeze outside was refreshing, the noise warming, here the bathroom was cold and unwelcoming. A reminder of the mistake he had been about to make.
Still, the world has a funny way of working. A higher power, should you believe in such a thing, might have bent down, peered into this tiny bathroom and seen Jim. Maybe that was why the power went off, maybe that was why Jim had gotten out cursing, mumbling to himself, naked and dripping following the cord back into the hall. ‘You useless fuck!’ He exclaimed. All at once vindicated for his choice, the second the toaster had plopped in with a big splash and life had just… continued. Useless Jim, failure Jim, fuck off and die Jim.
He had shut his eyes expecting it all to be over. Except it wasn’t.
Today was the start of a new life, and tomorrow?
Well he hadn’t planned that far ahead.
By Louis Urbanowski – Inspired by the prompt: ‘No power for twenty-four hours’
Stories by Louis Urbanowski 