Beyond the Window
"Silly old woman!" She spits.
- You seem to have forgotten that you are no longer in your
twenties... -
And now her leg is hurt, probably broken. Well, she can only
blame herself for it, climbing on that thing like she was
miss wonder woman.
- Silly old thing. -
It's just that sometimes, she gets lonely in this can-box of
an apartment.
The walls close in on her during the evenings. The dusty old
furniture and peeling wallpaper serve as constant reminder
of her condition.
"Like us, you are also old and worthless..." They seem to
whisper, "You should be replaced, done away with, just like
we should be."
She usually manages to avoid such thoughts, but the last few
days had been harder then usual for her, and things are
difficult as they are, especially around THIS time of year.
And she hasn't heard a word from Claire in almost two
weeks.
So she was overtaken by her longings, and decided to look at
some of the old family albums.
She recalled a certain picture while she was going through
one of the albums, it was missing from its page and she
couldn't find it anywhere.
It was the one they took back when Claire was fifteen or
fourteen and they all went together on a vacation to Europe.
The picture they took on the very peak of that mountain,
they had to travel up on a shaky cable cart to get up there.
Then they met a nice young man, he was Austrian maybe, and
he agreed to take their picture with all the mountains and
valleys in the background.
She loved that picture, it reminded her of how happy they
were back then, back when Robbie was still alive, and Claire
still lived with them. They had such good times then, the
best times of her life.
But she couldn't find that picture now. She searched all
over the place for it, but it refused to be found.
- Perhaps Claire took it with her, on one of her visits
here. - She speculated to herself while shuffling through
one of her dresser's drawers.
- You should give her a call and ask her if she had seen
it... -
But she knew better than that.
Her daughter had lost all interest in her mother after her
father died. It was as though she had somehow accused her of
his death.
Which was of course ridiculous since he died from a sudden
respiratory failure that was absolutely impossible to
predict or prevent.
- That's not the ridiculous part though. -
- What's ridiculous is that you have been blaming yourself
for Robbie's passing away as well. You feel guilty for
living past him, for not dying when he did. -
He was such a kind man, and he loved his family so much.
- He loved you. Everything he did, how he worked hard all
those long years, just to make you and Claire happy. -
She didn't deserve such devotion.
She loved him too, of course, but that love paled in
comparison to his. She gave Robbie her heart, but he gave
her and Claire his all.
And now that he was gone, she was alone.
Crawling on the floor with a broken leg.
What was she thinking, climbing on a chair like that? Who
would comfort her now? Who will she turn to for help?
She used to have so many friends once, when she was young
and beautiful.
They would go dancing, she and Robbie, how they would laugh.
People always surrounded them, and their parties would never
end.
- Where did all those people go? All those good friends? -
She knew the answer to that one.
- They grew old, just like you did... -
Some of them retired to secluded homes and private
institutions, others chose to devote their time to their
families and hobbies, and some, alas, had passed away.
She was, of course, still in touch with a few of her closest
companions. They made up the bitter, and gradually
shrinking, circle of old hags.
Like Macbeth's shrews, they would gather around every now
and then in barren windswept fields, and stir up their
collective misfortunes in a big pot. Or on occasion, escort
each other to funerals and hospitals to shed tears for yet
another of their fallen cohorts.
- They all came to Robbie's funeral though. -
She recalled.
- All the old crows and goats, they all crawled out of their
lairs and came to pay their respects for him. He lay there
in his coffin, like The Godfather, surrounded by devastated
friends and family. Everyone admired him for being the man
he was, for living his life the way he did. -
In a sense, Robbie's funeral also signaled the end of her
social life.
She stood there, wearing her black dress, watching her
daughter thanking everyone for coming in a broken voice. She
had the distinct feeling that they were all saying goodbye
for good.
That was the sad truth of it; she had no one.
- Wonder how many people would come to your funeral, Wonder
if anyone would show up at all. -
The first few weeks after Robbie died were the loneliest in
her life.
Claire no longer lived at home; she and her husband had
their own place up in the suburbs. They never came to visit,
and hardly ever called.
She would wake up in the middle of the night, and seek out
Robbie's comforting presence. But his side of the bed would
be empty. She used to cry herself to sleep on those
miserable nights.
- Everything you have done all your life, you have done so
well, my love.
Such generosity, such passion, such integrity, anywhere you
went, you left behind you only gratitude and peace. -
- So how is it that you left this world in such haste, not
allowing us with even the smallest grace of biding you
farewell? -
Sometimes she would get so frustrated and angry, she wanted
to curse him for leaving her behind.
But she was in fact cursing herself. Cursing herself for
being weak, for loosing the independence and courage she had
when she was younger.
- And now you face your weakness again, paralyzed to the
floor like a crippled old toad. - Things weren't always like
that.
She once crossed desserts on jeeps, accompanied by soldiers,
back when she was volunteering for the peace core. She once
marched side-by-side radicals and activists, protesting
against civil rights violations.
She was a teacher, an ideologist and a dreamer. She traveled
to Spain, and met the intellectuals and the poets. She and
her brothers and sisters pushed together against armed
policemen, in protest of wars and other injustices.
- And never, throughout all those adventures, you were never
ever afraid.
You believed in your causes, and believed in your friends.
Yes. But most of all, you believed you were invincible. -
- You were determined, beautiful, and relentless. You were
an immortal, and you were always right. Nothing could stop
you back then; you stood far beyond fear's reach. -
The apartment is so quiet suddenly; the street below the
building is abruptly silenced.
The only sound that comes to her ears is her own breathing.
How she wished Claire would call her already.
If she called now, and no one would answer, she is bound to
figure out that something is wrong. Maybe she would come by
herself, or send Greg to check in; the apartment is on his
way back from the office anyway.
She missed her daughter so much sometimes. But whenever she
reached out, and tried to get together with her, she would
receive an ice-cold response from her only child.
- Oh, face the facts already, you senile old owl, that child
hates you!
She always did. You never understood her, and now she wants
nothing to do with you. - How did that happen? She often
wondered.
- When was this gap between us created? -
Back when Claire was born, she and Robbie vowed to raise
their daughter the right way. They wanted her to grow up a
healthy and happy child, a child of love.
- And we did love her, endlessly. No matter how difficult
she was sometimes, how rebellious, and hardheaded, we loved
and supported her always, even when it broke our hearts. -
But as it turned out, Claire wasn't happy with love.
She wanted subordination, she was only happy when everything
went her way.
And while her father happily granted his little princess her
every wish, her mother tried to install a sense of
self-discipline to her spoiled child.
- You became her enemy. He was her hero, her daddy dearest,
the one who made all her dreams come true, and you were the
one who always tried to cut off her wings... -
- You thought you were helping her face the real world by
being strict. You thought she was ungrateful, that she would
thank you some day. But in her eyes you always remained her
adversary. That is why she never calls. -
Outside the sun is setting.
Maybe if she stretched as far as she could, she would be
able to reach the light switch.
No, her aching body informed her, forget about it.
She could hear inside her head the words of her friends,
preaching her:
"That's exactly why you shouldn't be on your own all the
time... You should move out of that tiny apartment, live
some place where you have people around you, people who can
take care of you if you need help."
She knew what they expected her to do.
Either move-in with Claire and Greg, Which was of course
impossible, since Claire would never have her mother with
her in the same house.
Or go live in one of those old people's facilities, which
was a move she was not yet ready for.
Sure, she was a long way past her prime, but she was not yet
in a position where she wasn't able to take care of
herself.
She wasn't sick or crippled, thank god, and her mind was
still sharp and clear. She was still, in a sense,
independent.
"Than at least find something to do with your time", Her
friends pressed on. "Do some charity work, meet new people,
find a hobby..."
They had a point. She had to admit.
Rotting inside this apartment all day was not doing her any
good; she needed something to occupy herself with, something
with which to fill the void.
So she started volunteering for the local soup kitchen.
It was a very rewarding experience helping the ones less
fortunate. But what she really liked about it was the
feeling of being needed again. She hadn't felt that way for
a long time, and she realized that she missed it.
For those poor slobs who came to the kitchen, she was
essential.
- They never regarded me as old or worthless, I was their
angel of mercy, their savior. -
For a few short months it seemed that she might have indeed
found contentment.
But like a drug gradually fails to supply the same effect it
did when it was first consumed, so did her volunteering
became less and less rewarding after awhile.
After all, the soup kitchen was operating only once or twice
every week. And the activities there, which were at first
new and exciting to her, had now appeared to be somewhat
monotonous.
She needed something more, she decided, something more
intense in her life.
"You should get a dog", One of her friends suggested,
"Yes, get a dog. That's a splendid idea!" she was quickly
joined by the rest of the bunch. - But you felt reluctant.
-
- It wasn't that you didn't like dogs, you did. You love all
animals. It was just that you were afraid to get emotionally
attached to something alive. Something that could later
desert you, and leave you broken hearted and alone. Once
again. -
But her friends convinced her that having a dog would cure
her feelings of loneliness and worthlessness.
Some of them even declared of owning dogs or cats
themselves, and claimed that it has helped them deal with
their sadness and indeed, improved their lives
considerably.
She made a decision that day, to follow her friend's advice
despite her own personal doubts.
- You should have followed your intuition on that one. -
- You should have known better than to think that you could
ever retrieve what you had in the past. You should have
known by then that you can never go back... -
But she was desperate for any kind of company and affection
in her life. So she went on and got Champlin.
"No", she shakes her head in frustration.
- You do not want to think about that dog right now. -
- It won't do you any good, try instead to figure out a way
to get up... -
She pushes and struggles for awhile, the pain from her
swollen leg is almost unbearable, but finally she manages to
pull herself up to a sitting position with her body leaning
back against the wall.
- Right... And now, stand up! -
She bites down her teeth and pushes herself up, as hard as
she can with her arms and good leg. But the pain from her
broken leg is paralyzing, and she soon drops back down.
"Wretched old hag!" She scowls in frustration.
Out the window an orange burgundy cloud sails on by the gray
sky.
Despair is slowly taking over her, and tears are starting to
fill her eyes.
She can't stop the memories from filling her again.
How she wished Champlin was here with her now.
She remembered well the day they first met. He had a fluffy
white fur, a round black nose, and a funny expression in his
eyes. He was a small sized dog, with a short playful tail
and a pleasant and calm nature.
She decided to call him Champlin; after the charming and
gallant jester from a novel she once read.
He was maybe ten months old, and still behaved like a puppy
when she brought him to her home.
The first month together was hell for both of them. Champlin
had to be taught how to behave in his new home, and she had
to be his teacher.
She would shout at him in vain that he should not chew on
the furniture or bark in the middle of the night at
passerbies on the street.
- There were moments when you were convinced Champlin would
never abide by your will. You were ready to give up on him,
and send him back to the pound. -
But just when it seemed the situation was hopeless, Champlin
unexpectedly began to obey.
It was as if he suddenly comprehended his position, and
decided to start respecting his master's authority. Slowly
but surly, Champlin learned to understand and follow her
commands.
- It didn't take long after that for the two of you to
become friends. -
One cold winter evening, she was lying awake in her bed.
The heating broke down for some reason, and the small
apartment was very cold. But it was nothing compared to the
cold she felt in her heart.
Her life seemed so bleak to her that night, so empty and
lonely.
She began to weep.
She missed Robbie, missed Claire. She didn't want to suffer
anymore, what was the point of it? Why continue this
miserable existence? She searched her heart, and couldn't
find an answer.
She buried her head in the pillow, and wished she could stop
breathing forever.
Her bedroom door opened suddenly.
Champlin came running inside, His tail wagging, and his pink
tongue sticking out of his mouth. She looked up at him
surprised, what is he doing here? She wondered.
He started licking off the tears from her face.
She tried to shove him away at first, his wet tongue was
tickling her.
"Go away!" she shouted.
But the whole situation was so absurd, and soon enough, she
was smiling awkwardly. Champlin then started licking her
ear, and she couldn't stop herself from bursting into a
broken laughter.
- How did he know? -
- Such a simple creature, how did he know you needed
consolation that night? God bless his soul, how could he
have possibly felt your pain? -
She let him sleep in the same bed with her that night, and
every night after that. She kept her bedroom door opened for
him.
In the weeks that followed, the bond that was made between
them grew stronger. Champlin became more then a pet to her.
He became her most loyal and comforting friend. His
dependency on her installed back the sense of strength and
worth she so lacked in her life. And his easy nature and
carefree demeanor brought back to her the joy of life she
lost when Robbie died.
- You were lost in the dark, drowning in an ocean of grief.
And he was your lifeboat. His love was the light tower that
guided you back to shore, back to life. You were his master,
but it was he who taught you anew the most important of
lessons; that life goes on despite death, life goes on
forever... -
They spent hours each day, strolling together, exploring the
gardens and parks of the city. She loved the company of
young children, and Champlin was a magnet for them; their
eyes would shine up as they played with him.
They all reminded her of her Claire. Back when she was a
young child, and the world still seemed to her a fascinating
and exciting place.
In Champlin she found an ever-trusted confidant.
She could talk to him about anything. They would sit
together in the apartment, and she would spill her heart
before him. He would look up at her with his beady brown
eyes and wag his tail, relishing the attention bestowed upon
him, and she would go on and tell him all about her
innermost feelings, wishes and concerns.
- He was the perfect listener. -
- Never impatient or judgmental, he was better than any
therapist. And he made you feel better without having to say
a word; that was the most beautiful part. In that sense he
was a lot like Robbie. He never had to say anything, him
being there and just listening was enough. -
In the short blissful year she and Champlin shared together,
she had managed to recover her appreciation for life once
more.
It seemed then, that she might be all right after all, that
there may still be hope for her despite all the hardships
and memories.
She wipes her tears with the back of her wrist, and looks
out the window. Outside it is almost dark.
- Where is hope now? -
- When light departs from the world, and all that is warm
and bright is swept away by darkness. -
Three months had passed since Champlin had died in her
arms.
- Could it really have been that long? -
The pain of his demise was still sharp in her heart, and the
circumstances of his death were still vivid in her memory.
It was a pleasant autumn evening.
She and Champlin were ambling along the grasslands of main
city park in silence. The mighty trees around them were
shedding their leaves in a marvelous celebration of brown,
yellow, orange and red. They were all alone, and everything
around them was peaceful and calm.
Champlin was in an adventurous mood that evening. He begged
and wailed to be let free of his leash, so that he may roam
around unchecked.
"Fine, Fine boy", She finally approved, "But only for a few
minutes..." She added as she unbuckled his brown leather
collar, and set him loose.
The sight of him running ecstatically among the trees,
joyously barking at the falling leaves, brought a smile to
her face.
For the longest time, the world seemed to her pale and gray.
But lately she started regaining her appreciation for the
beauty and colorful diversity of nature. All thanks to her
four legged companion.
But he kept running further and further away from her, and
she started worrying that he might not find his way back.
"Here, boy!" She called at him, "That's quite enough, come
back now."
She could no longer see him; he was hidden from her eyes by
the tall robust trees.
"Here boy! It's getting late already, come back here."
She heard something jerking behind one of the trees, and
started walking in that direction. She was half way there,
when the most chilling voice she ever heard in her life came
from behind her.
It was Champlin.
She knew it immediately.
He was yelping with fear and pain. His cries were
accompanied by deep sinister growls, and the rapid sounds of
a struggle.
"Champlin?" she cried, and started running at his
direction.
Another nerve tearing yelp was heard.
The voices grew louder and more intimidating as she arrived
closer to the scene of the turmoil.
Slowly, the tree that was blocking her sight gave way, and
revealed to her what has happened.
There, on the ground, on a bed of blood-splattered leaves,
she found Champlin lying motionless.
Above him were standing two big dogs.
They were snarling ferociously, their gray lips were curled
back, revealing sharp white fangs.
"No!!!" she cried, and fell down to the ground.
The two big dogs gave her a last glance of indifference, and
ran away.
Crawling on her knees, she approached her fallen friend.
An expression of primal terror was frozen in his dark eyes.
The expression one has when he discovers suddenly that he is
going to die agonizingly and immediately, and there is
nothing he can do to prevent it. His face was a mask of pure
dread.
She collected his tiny broken body in her arms, his fluffy
snow white fur was soaked with his life's blood. He was
still twitching helplessly when she picked him up, his body
fighting to breathe another breath.
She stroked his head gently for the last time.
She just couldn't stand the expression in his eyes; it was
too familiar, almost human in its intensity.
Finally the lifeless body stopped twitching.
She sat there by his side for hours, her body trembling as
she wept.
- Why did they do it? -
- What drove them to attack you, my little one? -
- You never did anything to them; you probably just wanted
to play with them. Probably wagged your little tail happily
when you saw them coming. -
- You never hurt anyone. -
- You were just a harmless little thing, all you wanted was
to live. And look what they did to you, THEY RIPPED YOU INTO
SHREDS! -
- Why? Why? There is no answer to such a question. -
- They just did it because they did, because they could, and
you couldn't stop them, but mostly because that's just the
way of the world. -
And so she sits now, all alone, with her back leaning
against the dining room wall.
Her broken leg is stretched before her body, and she is
inaudibly crying in the darkness. In her heart she knows all
too well that nobody is going to help her. Unlike dogs,
people are extremely unfaithful.
She looks around the tiny apartment, and sighs.
She is afraid.
Strange, all her life, ever since she was a very young girl,
she was never afraid of the dark.
Never.
Until she saw the fangs on those big dogs at the park.
