Ex Gratis

by Moshe Dann (February 2014)

Pulling the covers up around his head, Mendy opened one eye against an onslaught of sunlight. Noise of traffic three floors below bounced off the cobwebbed, mold-speckled ceiling. Windows rattled against the wind in his one-room roof-top apartment. Glancing at his alarm clock balanced on the edge of an old wooden chair, he curled tightly into himself trying to avoid the inevitable beginning of this day.

The bed creaked with his weight as he sat up, gravity fading with light, pulling him along with hairballs of regret. He counted the rings, three, four, and reached for the phone just as it stopped and listened to the failure of an open line.

He shuffled to the bathroom and relieved himself. A faded mirror, desecrated with age, reflected puffy eyes and thinning hair. He washed his hands, brushed the top of his head with the palm of his hand and put on a black skullcap. After morning prayers he opened his tattered phone book. There was work to be done. He began calling friends.

A bundle of bar mitzvah photographs portrayed him, Bar Mitzvah Hero of Hebrew School, weary soldier of Sunday school classes and lost time on the playground. Mendy pulled a package of tissues from his desk and wiped his forehead. The other social workers and their clients pretended to ignore his encounter, but an unusual hush settled in the room, like the aftermath of an explosion.

Mendy got the point as he shifted his eyes from one shoe to the other. His legs hurt him. Varicose veins, he thought, as a headache beginning to throb.

A nurse came in to check his blood pressure. She held his hand. Inhaling the sweet incense of her perfume, Mendy sighed an epiphany.

Holy, holy, I will stay with you forever.

______________________

To comment on this story, please click here.

here.

here.