Moving

I ran a hand over the top of the bookcase and watched the black dust
collect on my fingers. They say that dust is mostly made up of human
skin and I wondered whose skin this was. I tried to remember the last
time I'd cleaned the place up but couldn't. I'd really let things go. I
rubbed the tips of my fingers with my thumb and the fine particles of
dust dropped to the floor, where they met up with other particles of
dust. The carpet needed a good vacuuming or better still it needed
ripping up and a new one putting in its place. I'd leave that for the
next man. It could be his first job.

I packed the CDs into a box without even looking at them. I didn't want
to be reminded of this time or of that time. I didn't want to get
nostalgic about any of that crap. In fact the sooner I was rid of it
all the better. I'd already got a buyer lined up. Some one armed guy
with a shop down town was offering ?3 a piece for the CDs and ?2 each
for the video cassettes. I thought that sounded reasonable and in any
case, I felt kind of sorry for the guy on account of the arm and I
didn't want to haggle with him. The TV set had gone yesterday, along
with the video, the CD player, the vacuum cleaner, the kettle, the
toaster and the microwave. One armed guy had taken the lot! He said he
got most of his stuff from clear outs.

I heard raised voices next door, which meant they were at it again.
Couldn't they give it a rest for one night? I heard him call her a
fucking something or other and she came back with something I didn't
quite catch but I guessed it was pretty bad. She had a real tongue on
her. Then I heard a door slam and quick heavy footsteps followed by
another door slamming and then nothing. Pretty soon I'd hear the
moaning and groaning. It always went like that: a cycle of shouting,
screwing and silence. It felt like I knew the pair of them even though
nothing was said between us, other than 'hello' when we passed on the
stairs. I knew them like I knew the characters in a soap opera. The
only trouble was I couldn't switch them off like a soap opera and I
wasn't in the mood tonight. I had a stinking headache and was feeling
kind of edgy. I just wanted to get the packing over and done
with.

I'd finished the last of the video cassettes and moved on to the books
when the phone rang. The ring stopped me in my tracks and I stood
frozen in the middle of the room. I could feel my heartbeat quicken and
my stomach turn over and my head was banging. It sometimes got me like
that: kind of a panic attack when the phone rang. I wanted to rip that
damn phone from its socket and throw it out of the window. I knew why
it happened but I couldn't do much about it. The way I saw it the panic
attacks were like my body taunting me. It was saying: "Still not over
it yet, fool!" I counted twelve rings before they stopped. I unplugged
the phone without even checking who'd called. I didn't care who it was
and I didn't want to speak to anybody. I just wanted to get my stuff
together and collect my thoughts. I wanted to be left alone.

I guess the books were the hardest part and I was already shaken up
what with the phone and those two next door. I picked up a book of
poetry, one of my favourites and realised my mistake when I read the
message on the inside cover. I'd forgotten what was written their. I
ripped out the page, screwed it up and tossed it over my shoulder. I
didn't think I'd gone far enough and put the book in a plastic bag with
the rest of the rubbish. One armed guy didn't do books so I'd planned
on taking them with me but I changed my mind there and then. I packed
them up in plastic bags and took them outside to the rubbish and found
an empty bin. I did it quickly before I had chance to change my mind.
There was more than I thought and I had to make two trips.

I just had the clothes to sort out now and I worked pretty quickly on
those. I was getting into it and I knew I was over the worst. I took
out my favourite shirt, a couple of t-shirts, a jumper, some pants, a
pair of shoes, a pair of trainers and some socks and underwear and
packed them all into a suit case. I didn't have any problems closing
the case. I took out the rest of my gear and piled it up on the bedroom
floor. I thought maybe I should take it all to a charity shop but I
wanted to be rid of them right away so decided not to bother. I stuffed
it all into bin bags and took it down to the rubbish. I took the boxes
of CDs and tapes down to the car ready to take to the one armed man
first thing in the morning and that was pretty much it.

Back inside the place was like a shell. Romeo and Juliet must have
patched things up because I could hear grunts and squeals coming from
next door. It was louder than usual and their moans seemed to bounce
off the empty walls and hang in the air. I was sweating and needed a
drink but I knew I had to stay off the booze so decided on a hot bath
instead. I put in some bubble bath and settled down to a long soak. I
took deep breaths and tried to empty my mind and think of nothing like
they tell you to do on those relaxation tapes.

It was dark by the time I'd finished in the bathroom. I must have been
in there quite a while and when I came out I felt light headed. The
screwing next door was over and the place was quiet. I lay on the bed
in the dark and felt the silence of the room. That's when it all
started to happen. I was lying there naked and I felt this wind or more
like a breeze. It was kind of pleasant. What happened then is more than
a little strange because the next thing I know, I can feel her there
beside me. I mean she's really there in the room. It's like I'm
paralysed and I can't turn my head to face her but I know she's there
all the same. Now she's only there for a moment before she's gone again
but after she goes I stay there and I can't move. That's when all the
memories come and when they come they really come. Good ones and bad
ones. They wash over me and this time I don't try to stop them: I just
go with the flow. The tears are streaming down my cheeks but they keep
on coming. It's like my whole life is being played out right in front
of my eyes. I've heard people say that before and now I know what they
mean.

Now I don't know what happened that night. Alcoholics might refer to it
as a moment of clarity. Religious people might call it something
different but I'm not really a religious man. Maybe it was just that
things had finally got too much for me and I'd slipped over the edge; I
just don't know. All I do know is that ever since then I've looked at
things differently. And one thing I knew right away was that packed up,
sold off or thrown out with the rubbish, the past would always be
there. I knew that much. It would pass through me like a wind.
Sometimes that wind might be a warm summer breeze; other times a cold
winter gale. It would pass through me just the same. I knew that
much.