It was hard to say for sure, but it was quite a long fall, and by the time he finally came to his senses, he could feel his back against the hard, cold floor. He could feel his arms, and the strength that was returning to him after the ordeal. Reaching out to his migraine-ridden crown, he caressed it gently, trying to ease that throbbing pain.
And there was light; the morning sun pouring into the room, its radiance gradually heating up the air enclosed within it. Trying to learn more about this strange surrounding, he screwed his eyes into focus, with his left palm shielding his vision from the light.
But he wasn’t alone. While drifting in and out of consciousness the night before, he could sense others around him. Anybody but his colleagues, he reckoned. There was no doubt that Richard and co. were totally wasted in the lounge at this time. They usually don’t come around until the effects of the drugs totally wore off around evening.
Well, at least nobody’s gonna work today.
“Aha…I see you’re awake,” a voice interjected into the silence. Very much taken aback, he was holding up the pillow in a stance, his back against the mouldy walls.
“That pillow isn’t going to do much as a shield or a weapon,” the old man joked, “but this will warm you up.”
The old man placed a warm bowl of porridge into his cupped hands. Watery and diluted, it didn’t seem to be very appetizing. He looked up and saw the old man staring at him, who as this point was already seated on a chair next to him.
“Eat up. It’s not poisoned,” the man chuckled.
He spooned some of the porridge and started eating. It was then he realised that his hands were trembling. The porridge was bland, but he was so starved that he licked the bowl clean. The old man was right, he did feel much better. Warmth started to return to his hands and his body.
“It’s not much, but we gotta deal with this. Here.”
He took a stained porcelain cup from the old man and started drinking. It tasted a bit mouldy but he didn’t care. The water soothed his burning throat. The old man was holding his water flask in anticipation, subsequently refilled the cup again.
“Don’t rush it, hush.” The manner the old man spoke to him was as if one coaxing a child not to cry, and there was some sort of authority and meekness in the old man.
Soon questions started to flood into his head. Unanswered questions. There was so much to ask, but before he could say anything, the old man stood up and walked towards the basin, cleaning both the cup and the bowl that he just used.
“You’re badly dehydrated when we found you. If you’ve woken up any sooner we would have to send you to the hospital already.”
“Thanks.” That was all he could muttered, not knowing exactly what to say.
He got onto his feet and started walking around the room. There was nothing in the room apart from a mattress, a desk and a chair; it was stripped bare. Turning to his right, he observed the old man was still cleaning the utensils, cleaning each and every one of them diligently.
He looked away when the old man finished his chores. Turning around to face him, the old man dried both hands on a sackcloth, and beckoned him to sit.
BANG!!!
The door suddenly swung open, and through it was a young lady whose eyes set upon his for a moment or two, as he was petrified by her sudden appearance, which was then followed by a really awkward moment of silence. From his position he could see the lady starting to turn red in embarrassment, so he turned towards her and offered his hand.
“Hi, I’m Frederic, Fred for short.”
“Hey.” She stood motionless, observing him from head to toe, as if he’s bore something contagious on him, not showing any intention of returning the gesture.
“Hi, nice to meet you?? And you are…”
“Naked,” she remarked. His confused expression bade her to explain. “You’re not wearing anything.”
“Owh,” he replied. His eyes were still fixated upon hers, but he did give a swift glance at himself without trying to move his head. And true enough, he was wearing nothing apart from his yellow ducky boxer. Before he could say anything else, she remarked, “I’ll wait outside.”
Now that’s how I rock. In a yellow ducky boxer.
The old man dropped his set of clothes into his arms, gave him a gentle pat in the shoulder, and then mouthed the word “go”. He hastily put his clothes back on, walked out the door and found her leaning against the wall at the stairway. She gave a smile that he could only rate as angelic.
“Well…I must say you looked better with nothing on; you really nailed it with the boxer,” she sarcastically complimented his choice of fashion.
“Thanks.”
She looked at him as both of them travel down the stairs, putting on a surprised face on her. “Are you a Masochist??”
“Wha…oh no, no…I mean…for yesterday.”
Damn it. What am I getting so flustered for??
“Right,” she noted, again nonchalantly. It’s starting to get onto his nerves, the way this lady speaks and deals with him. But towards the end of the stairs he started to hear voices and chattering of several other people, dozen perhaps, stemming from the kitchen. There were also noises of utensils clanking against each other, as if a drumroll calling all inhabitants of the house to dine.
“It’s time lunch. Everybody’s waiting for you.”
As she said the great oak door was pushed open, unveiling a host of other beings crowded onto the dining table. Most of them were teenagers, a triplet of veterans, two men and a lady. Everybody was staring at the latest newcomer, none daring to blink.
“Uhh…porridge, with some leek. Nice. I’m starved.” A boy passed two sets of utensils to her as she sat herself comfortable at the end of the table and started to eat. Immediately the atmosphere reverted back to how it was before. All bickering and noise as they all dine in one cramped room.
“Are you waiting to be served?” She asked, as he wasn’t touching any of it.
“Oh…it’s alright. I’m good,” he replied, while observing and taking in the details of his new yet strange surroundings.
“Well, suit yourself,” was the reply and she spoke to him no more, ignoring him to himself and his empty porridge bowl.
He had been to one of these houses before; these were Victorian houses. Really old, but sturdy. This one could use some thorough cleaning. Some maintenance on the plumbering could help. There were water marks all over. The place would be flooded every time a storm kicks in. The backyard could use…
“Mister…Mister??” A squeaky voice broke his concentration from the left. It was the old lady. She sounded a bit like a mouse.
“I have some coffee, would you like some?” She asked sincerely, holding a big metal cup in her hand, with steam rising from it. “It’s freshly brewed.” She gave her best with her smile, but she’s lost most of her front teeth. She probably couldn’t afford a denture to hide that hideous smile anyway.
Being polite, he nodded and started to look around for cups. But the old lady nudged him in the arm and shoved the metal cup into his hands. She was waiting intently for him to taste the coffee. Not wanting to look disrespectful, he took a sip…and rushed to the sink and vomited the foul tar-coloured fluid he just drank.
“WHAT IN THE WORLD!!!” he bellowed. Looking furiously at the old lady. By this time all eyes were on him.
“That’s odd,” the old lady squealed, “I’m sure the workers used them only today. I took it from Costa near Bank Street.”
“YOU WHAT?? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GOD DAMN MIND??”
“Watch your language, young man!!” one of the old man stood up glaring fiercely at him. The old lady was so shaken that she started to sob. The teenagers were all silently watching the drama unfolding before their very eyes.
“I say what I wanna say and she’s nuts!!” he shouted, “Leftovers, man!! Leftovers!! Did you get the porridge from McDonalds and diluted it with water?”
As soon as he said it, he knew it was the truth. They were all furious and angry, yet the shame he wrought onto them kept them in their place.
“OH MY GOD. Where the hell am I anyway?? Who are you people??”
Sensing no reply, he stormed out of the kitchen and went into the living room. The condition there was no better. Paint chipping off, water leaking at several spots, and holes all over the flooring. There was barely anything apart from mattresses scattered all around the floor. The only thing that seems to work is the fireplace, burning feverishly in its place, providing warmth to the inhabitants of this badly dilapidated house.
This is a shelter home!!
“It’s all they got,” a voice reverberated from behind. He wasn’t sure how long she has been standing there observing him. “It’s all we have.”
“We?? No…no…I’m not a homeless. I’m not a freaking failure like them. I have a life, a career, a dream. I’m different.”
“You asked me, and I brought you here.”
“I…what?? You’re nuts as well,” as soon as he finished he walked right straight towards the door.
“You asked me questions, and so I brought you the answers,” she gently replied, yet from where she stood right at the beginning, again showing no intention of stopping him from leaving or whatsoever.
“You asked, and so I gave.” Then he heard the sound of the door opening and closing behind him, and all that’s left was the sound of the cracking firewood burning in the fireplace.
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