Jimmy

Don't die on me
Don't go away
When I need you here
In my need

The rain will come
The rain will always be
In things I am
Are things that have to be
My friends have come and I never bothered

Myself and I
There is no other
-Devin Townsend, The Death of Music
         


         The morning sun shone through the window and cast a shadow on the figure sitting at the table. He was eating cereal, chewing slowly but surely, watching the television and all its wild wonders from across the room.

         “I love this movie, Independence Day, lots of action.”

         He fed a spoonful of cereal to his mouth and crunched away. Then, as if clinging to a sudden thought he looked up at the man sitting across from him and began to cry.

         “Pete, how did I go wrong. What did I do to myself?”

         “What do you mean, pal?” Pete asked.

          “All that drinking, it’s done me so wrong. I’m not the same you know.”

         The figure across from him looked intently.

         
         “My god Pete, sometimes I feel as if I’ve been dumbed down to a fourth grade education. My mind strays so often; it’s hard to concentrate on anything. I’ve got no job, no wife, and no family. I’m not just depressed, I’m a damn mess.”

         Pete stood up, grabbed a few tissues from the counter, and brought them over to the large man sitting by the window.

         “Thanks” the man said. He wiped his face carefully, sniffling as he did. His gaze once again returned to Independence Day, as if nothing had happened.

         “How’s Margaret doing, Jim?”

         “Margaret, who? Oh, Margaret! She’s doing well.”

         He continued to eat his cereal, his child-like eyes feasting on the constant action flickering on the television. Pete sighed and continued to stare at Jim, waiting for more.

         “What? I told you she was doing well.”

         “Well what else about her! She’s my sister, I’d like to know how she’s doing. How are her kids, and her husband? Where’s she working, what is she doing?”

         “Her kids are fine, so is her husband. Stop asking me questions, I’m trying to watch this!”

         Pete sighed again, this time with a touch of irritation. “You ask me to come over and talk to you and what do you do, you watch a fucking movie that you can easily watch once I’m gone.”

         Jim turned back to Pete, munching on his Raisin Bran, enjoying every flake.

         “Don’t yell at me, I can’t stand to be yelled at. Can’t you see I’m in a difficult spot here? I’ve got no job, no wife, and no family, and you want to yell and holler at me like I’m a little boy.”

         “Well Christ, I’m younger than you and still taking care of you, and so is Margaret. If you won’t care for yourself, then I’ll try to help you, but I won’t let you take advantage of me when you’re perfectly capable of living. I’ll come over here and talk to you, but if you’re not going to give me the time of day, then I’ll walk out of here and you can find someone else to chat with.”

         “Don’t do that Pete, please don’t do that. I’m so lonely here. You’re the only one that talks to me aside from Margaret.”

         Pete put a hand across the table and onto Jim’s shoulder. Jim shuddered a little bit, and then looked back to the television.

         “Just help me help you pal, that’s all I ask. I won’t leave you alone here, I promise. I love you, you’re my brother.”

         Jim turned back to Pete and began to cry. Pete began to comfort Jim as best he could, and then Jim’s gaze turned back to Independence Day once again.

         “Well, how’s everything else. Are you getting by with the food I’ve been bringing you? I see you haven’t opened any of the bags I brought you last week. What have you been eating?”

         Jim finished his cereal and drank the remaining milk in the bowl. He then got up and hobbled the bowl over to the sink and dropped it in, letting it crash amongst the other dishes and plates still lingering in the sink.

         “I still have food from the week before, so I’ve kept those bags un-opened until I need them. Margaret’s treated me to dinner and breakfast the past couple of days too, so everything’s fine. She got me that nice DVD player for Christmas, isn’t it great? Her son Pat helped us hook it up. He’s a fine boy. But, I’m doing well, I haven’t gone out much the past few days, I’ve felt very lonely, very sad, so I’ve just sat in here the whole time watching the movies Margaret bought me. I cry an awful lot too, that’s for sure. I feel as if something’s missing but I don’t know what it is. Do you ever get that feeling Pete?”

         Pete was walking about the apartment, looking at the water marks crawling down the walls, turning to cracks after weeks of no care.

         “Sure I do, Jim. Sometimes you feel loss when someone or something is gone that you loved and cherished, but you never knew how much you did love or cherish that someone or something. Have you been thinking about mom lately?”

         “No, no, I haven’t. I don’t know what it is that’s bothering me. Maybe I miss the alcohol.”

         “Don’t even mention that shit again, it’s the reason why you’re in this mess in the first place, you don’t need to go and make it even worse.”

         Jim wasn’t listening; his attention had once again lingered back to the action unfolding in Independence Day. Pete chuckled a little and sat down at the table. Jim turned back from the movie and looked at the grocery bags sitting on the table, then began to cry again. He grabbed tissues from the tissue box and wiped his face. Pete sat across from him, watching with remorse as his older brother broke down once again.

         “Well, Jim, I’m sorry pal, but I’ve got to get back home. My wife and kids are waiting for me; we’re having a nice dinner tonight, the kids are home from school for the weekend.”

         Jim continued to look at the grocery bags and cry, the tears streaming down his face, his eyes beginning to change from those of a child to those of a sixty year old man, tired and withered, as he was. Pete stood up and walked over to hug his brother, but as soon as he did Jim turned his gaze back to the television.

         “I’ll see you later Jimmy, give me a call if you need anything. I love you pal.”

         Pete walked across the apartment to the door and put on his coat.

         “Wait! Pete, please don’t go. I need you here. Please, if you go it’s going to come back, it’s all going to come back. I don’t want to be alone; I just want someone here, someone to talk to, don’t go away, please, not when I need you here."

         Outside the door a janitor was sweeping the floor, listening intently to the conversation occurring within the apartment.

         “I need you Pete, you’re all I’ve got left.” Jim began to cry heavily, his sobs creeping through the door and into the hallway. The janitor knocked on the door, and when no answer came and the sobs continued within the apartment, he drew his keys and inserted one into the lock. When the door opened, there was Jimmy sitting at the table, alone as he often was, tears streaming from his eyes as he stared at the groceries Pete had brought him just a week ago.