The Cabin Beside the Lake

                                                              The Cabin Beside the Lake



    Not a moment sooner than Elliot VonFischer was to walk out the door, the wooden button securing his kaki trousers fell to the floor. Despite the sound being no more than that of a pin drop; feeling frustrated, Elliot ran to the top drawer of his vintage chest. Inside, he rummaged through his miscellaneous collections. Past the photographs of lost loves, stamps from World War II, and his favorite 1950's quarter collection, Elliot eventually came to his spare buttons and sewing kit. As he peered in, he thought a moment or two about the thread color he would choose as he prepared to mend the annoyance.

    Half an hour later, with a sense of satisfaction in the air, Elliot VonFischer felt confident to begin his day as he gazed into the mirror one final time. The reflection had weathered a bit over the years, rustic dark brown hair had now come to be known as salt n' pepper. Elliot was reminded of this every morning as he parted it and combed it to the side. His height seemed to slump and his once vibrant blue eyes merely seemed a pale hue. Now accustomed to his aged appearance, he adjusted his red bow tie at the collar of his plaid shirt as he further examined his reflection. With every button fastened, shoelaces tied at equal length, and each hair in its place, Elliot turned to exit through the freshly painted white door.

    The brown penny loafers humbly alternated steps as Elliot casually greeted Mr. Worthington, Mrs. Cunningham, and his other various neighbors. Oddly following the penny loafers seemed to be a foreign set of footsteps, steps unknown to Elliot.

Inside, his stomach churned as he knew only who it could be. Now as each loafer tried to race the other, the foot steps picked up their pace. Elliot could almost feel the hot breath of the intruder on the base of his neck as he searched for a place to hide. He was on the run and his only chance to evade his capture was to take a sharp turn down an alley. Quickly, he dodged the footsteps following behind him. He leaned his head back against the white brick wall of the alley as he made an attempt to catch his breath. His nose stuck out around the corner as he checked the area for his predator. The coasat was clear and he carried on with his daily errands.

    Elliot noticed the bustle of people and half-eaten samples as he strolled across the white tiled flor of the supermarket. He stepped over the occasional spill while he sought the items on his list. After collecting the day-old bread from the bakery, he made his way to the floral department and sniffed the daisies, pansies, and lilies that sat upon the window sill. He skimmed over each kind searching for snap dragons- his wife's favorite. He crumpled down the top of the brown paper bag, and prepared to proceed to the park.

    It was mid-afternoon and the wildflowers bathed in the sun's presence in the park walled by a black iron fence. Elliot thought the ducks seemed hungrier today as they pecked at the brown bag knowing the contents it held. He remained on the bench at the lake's side as the mountains now obscured the sunlight. His m ind drifted as he enjoyed the serenity of the moment. Suddenly as reality dawned on him, he realized how the moon had stolen the day's light. He had patiently waited the entire day for his wife to grace him with her presence. Why hadn't she met him at the rickety white bench beside the lake and his favorite oak as they had planned? It wasn't like her, she had always been timely. Thought collided within Elliot's mind as he paced beside the grand oak, thinking of what he should do. What they got to her? Would they have taken her prisoner by means to get to him? Not wanting to waste another minute, Elliot rushed home even though his aged legs were not able to carry him as he demanded.

    Elliot noticed the titles on the bindings of the books that encircled the small room. Some encyclopedias, other just textbooks of sciences and psychology. It intrigued him how such a small room could be enveloped by so many books. And before his mind could wander any longer, he turned around to find a gentleman enter the room.

              "Where is my wife?" Elliot demanded.

              "Mr. VonFischer, my name is Dr. Morton; do you know where you are?" The young man asked.

              "I know I need to find my wife!" Elliot replied.

              "I'm afraid we have to discuss the truth here Mr. VonFischer. Everyday you are reminded that your wife, Anita Grove VonFischer is no longer with you. And yet each day you wait out in our garden beside the lake waiting for her to return. So, tonight I am going to again tell you the truth and work on helping you with your illness."

                "I don't understand..she is always on time..."

                "Elliot, Anita passed away in an accident shortly after you returned from you fighting in the war. It was too much for you to handle, so you never fully accepted the truth of her death or truly mourned for your loss. Each morning you "borrow" plants from the dining hall, and they all sit on the window sill in your bedroom. And each and every afternoon you feed the ducks, but you must understand the truth, and that it saddens me to say, she will never return. You must now realized that you have been a permanent resident of the California State Psychiatric Facility for over ten years now, and you suffer from obsessive compulsive and post traumatic stress disorders."

    Elliot wrinkled his white brow as he pondered the words of the psychiatrist. Could he really repeat  his days over and over? Sadly, he knew it was true. Life as he knew it was never the same after he lost Anita. He smiled ever so slightly as he remembered the scent of her perfume and the way her golden locks curled around her chin. He could still see her laugh as she gazed his way in her favorite angora sweater and pearls. The same pearls he purchased for their very first wedding anniversary. His smiled began to fade as he knew what he missed most. She was the most elegant woman he had ever met, and could hear the words flow over her lips as if she had said them yesterday. Anita always reminded him that they were in lover, and together they would grow old in a cabin beside the lake.