J - Rewarding Job

The fat man, in the flat upstairs, stomps across my ceiling. A light
switch, door slam, key turn, serenades his leaving. Chipboard rattles
as he descends. His mass distorts the walls. Treads are bent. Footsteps
march down the hall. Stop. Turn, sharp right, to my balsa door.

Hesitation, then he hammers.

He keeps beating for ten minutes. I imagine bruising on his fist,
swelling into blister. For the sake of his health, I press an eyeball
to the spy hole. I'm shocked to find a reflection bulging back at me
from a red balloon.

He has seen me. The rhythm changes, this could go on for ages, become
contagious, make the papers, but he stops abruptly. The eye wilts,
extends towards me. There are ripples on the surface, skaters and
boatmen. I can almost feel hot breath on my face. It would be bad,
stale and cursed with garlic. Then the eye is gone, a deflated ego
walking back to his floor.

I crack open the door.

Just a crack, security chained. His back turns into a face. Bluster
becomes flustered, as he realises his real work is about to
begin.

'Eh. Hello. I see you're at home there. I'm the man from
upstairs.'

Every morning, at ten to eight, while I'm sorting my post, he walks
past, munching toast. Then at six thirty, or seven, at the end of my
day, he mumbles 'good evening', if we meet in the hallway. I know you
live upstairs. There's the banging and scraping and then the singing.
Your baritone scales, falling through your floorboards, extend my every
waking moment, as you practice making perfect for the deaf. And every
bum note accompanied by your toneless mutt. That canine, I've decided,
will make the perfect appetiser, if the opportunity arises.

'Well, I've been meaning to ask, a favour, if you will,' he drags for
breath and rests a plump hand on the doorframe. 'I've been
unfortunately encumbered with a rather sombre moment by a friend of
mine, who was so very dear. The problem is, it isn't near.' While I
fill up with fear, he starts to empty all his tears.

I soften up. I open up. Let the chain off. Show him in.

Two cushions of the couch, he doesn't slouch, but he does overflow in
all directions. When he can compose his cries, I offer tissues for his
eyes but he just sighs. The drops dangle from a lash. His shirt and
v-neck clash. At this point, pity infiltrates my logic, and I say all
the wrong things that won't make him go away.

'We were childhood sweethearts,' he sniffs. 'That meant more back then
than it does today. How we never lasted is a question left unanswered.
It always feels much stronger when you're that much younger.'

I don't know you and you're sitting on my sofa telling me about love
failed. This should be revolting, but the statements falling from your
flabby mouth, bind me to my chair.

'She was my first, that is, kiss. It was bliss. We would be married, a
child carried, a husband reborn a daddy. But her father, Barry, was a
man of means and ways, and when I had my way with her, he had his way
with me. In an ally with a mallet.'
He brushes back hair, a square scare behind his ear. A shudder.
'While I was six months convalescing, Barry was confessing - all my
sins. Ha! His slander. He drove my name into the dirt. Anything to make
her hurt, to make her hate me, forsake me. Then he instigated a more
suitable suitor for his daughter's future. She wedded him of course. I
never had the guts to stand on my own two crutches and take her from
his clutches. They were different times. You can only see mistakes you
make in reverse.'

I bring him gin, which he swigs, and a grin sneaks across his
red-thread cheeks. He starts to chuckle, jaw line buckles, a bloodhound
breaking into barking with delight.

'All those years she lived with him, bore children, kept in trim, when
she passed on, with all her will, she choose me. Tomorrow I sing, at
her request, a final goodbye. I cannot lie. When I look into her
husband's eye, I will pity him his loss. He had so much more than I,
but then, I see her off. What a wife. What a life. What we waste in
trying to keep face.'

He roars with laughter, king of the jungle ever after, and I agree to
feed his dog. It was my most rewarding job.