Charlotte

The house didn't look too old,

not as old as the house's owner,

anyways.



He was sitting in a lawn chair

when I passed by,

another one beside him,

though it was empty.



"Hey there, ol' buddy!"

He shouted to me.

I had never spoken to him before.



I turned my face toward him,

he was smiling at me,

as if he had just witnessed

the happiest thing in the world.



"Hi..." I replied, meekly.

I felt bad for the old man.

He appeared so jubilant,

yet had no one to share this moment with.



"I was just heading in," he said, still smiling,

"to make some tea for my wife and I."

It seemed a bit too hot for tea.



"Would you like some?"



"No thanks," I said.

I didn't really like tea,

and besides,

my mom told me not to talk to strangers.

I was ten.



"Maybe some other time, then!"

And he walked inside.



I passed by his house again,

four years later.

I was fourteen.



He was sitting in a lawn chair,

just like last time.

Another one beside him,

though it was empty.



"Hey there, ol' buddy!"

He shouted to me,

exactly as before.



I turned my face toward him,

and he was wearing that same smile,

as if he'd just witnessed

the happiest thing in the world.



"Hi!" I said, a little more confident

then the last time.

"Where's your wife?"



"Oh, she's just inside."

he said.

"I was just heading in,"

he said,

"to make some tea,

for her."



"Would you like some?"



"No thanks," I said.

I didn't really like tea,

and besides,

I had papers to deliver.



"Maybe some other time, then?"

And he walked inside.



I'm passing by his house,

again,

four years later.

I am eighteen.



There were two lawn chairs,

outside his house,

just like last time,

though they were both empty.



I was heading off to college,

and thought I might

drop by,

for old time's sake.



I walked up to the door,

and knocked,

three times,

loud enough for them to hear.



I stood there for a long while,

thinking, maybe they're not home.

But the door opened eventually,

and there stood the old man,

just like I remembered him.



His face lit up

into that same smile

that will stick with me,

as long as I live.



"Hey there, ol' buddy!"

he shouted to me,

as if he was looking at me

from his lawn chair

outside his house.



"Hi!" I shouted

almost as loud as him.

It seemed his happiness was...



contagious.



"I was just making some tea,"

he said,

"for my wife and I."

It still seemed too hot for tea.



"Would you like some?"



"Sure," I said.

I was older now, and enjoyed tea.

And besides,

he was my friend.



I stepped into his house,

It smelled of old things,

and herbs.



"I'd like you to meet my wife."



He led me past the kitchen,

where everything seemed still,

and led me into

the living room.



"This is the young boy I was just telling you about,

Charlotte."



I stopped.

Air caught in my throat,

and my happiness

was replaced

with instant sadness.



In a blue chair,

in the corner of the room,

sat a skeleton,

with it's hand folded

in it's lap,

wearing a plain white nightgown.



"Well, don't just sit there,

Charlotte,

say hello to the young man."



The old man just stood there,

a smile still

on his face.



"Oh, don't mind her,"

he said,

"She's just being fussy!

Let me go get that tea..."



The old man left the room.



All I could do was

stand there,

let the sadness

soak in.



All this time,

this happy old man was here,

sharing his happiness,

with nothing at all.



Tears poured down my face.



I heard a crash from

the kitchen.



I was there within seconds,

watching brown tea,

spread across the floor



like blood.



The old man had fallen down,

leaning up against the lower cupboards,

a grin still etched across his face.



"Hey there, ol' buddy,"

he said,

almost out of breath.



"Hi..." I replied,

my breath caught

in my throat.

I felt like I was

eight again.



"I was just making some

tea," he said,

confusion clouded his eyes.

"for my wife and I."



"Would you like some?"



"Sure..." I said,

tears stinging my eyes.



His hand slipped around

in the tea

spilling from the kettle.



"Would you take some to Charlotte for me?"

he asked, the life leaving his eyes,

"She's in the living room..."