I brushed it off. “It’s okay.’ I stared at her. “I’m probably not going to get better. That’s just the way it is. I’ll be fine. People get cancer every day.” I walked to my armchair, embracing the absence of clutter that usually blocked my path. I let my body fall and the cushions kissed me. “Would you like something to drink, Rhonda?”
“No, dear. It’s fine. I was actually going to invite you to eat with Vince and I. I’m making Baked Meal tonight. There will be more than enough.”
“You’ve already done enough. It’s fine. Think I’ll probably have an early one, but thank you, Rhonda. I mean it.”
She walked toward me and gave me a peck on the forehead. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s strange to admit this but when you fell through our wall yesterday, I was happy. It feels like we gained a roomie. Feel free to come on by anytime. If you’re hungry or just bored and want a chat. With Vince working all day, I get quite lonely and it’s always nice sometimes to just talk.”
I was staring in disbelief. I didn’t know it was possible for anyone to be this kind. I wanted to shake and pinch Rhonda to see if she was real. Part of me expected her to be a figment of my imagination that would float away like dandelion spores the second I got too close. “Thank you,” I said once more as she walked away.
“Oh, one more thing, Bruce. There’s a queer stain on your kitchen ceiling. I couldn’t get at it. You may want to give it some attention if you feel up to it. I’m sure it wouldn’t take long to clean. I would have done it, but I’m shorter than a postman’s temper. Take care.”
She disappeared through the hole in the wall. I spent some time lost in thought. Not bad thoughts either. There was an undeniable pity involved in Rhonda’s actions but there was definitely more to it than that. She was a good person… the sort of person whose existence I had always doubted. When she gave me permission to enter their place uninvited, I knew she meant it.
I craned my head and stared at the stain on the kitchen ceiling. It had a dark green edge that darkened to black in the centre. I’d never really noticed it before. It looked conspicuous in the newly cleaned surrounds. It was a vulgar indicator as to the squalor I had been living in only hours before. It pulsed ever so slightly and I swear I could hear it wheezing. Who knows what I’d allowed to grow up there. I made it my mission to remove it. I didn’t want to let Rhonda down. It was my duty to prove to her that her kindness did not go unnoticed. Before I did that, I needed to give that Fiona woman a call. I had no desire to meet with her, but the look on my mother’s face was too heartbreaking for me not to. If Fiona could provide my mother with hope, I wasn’t going to turn it down, even if the hope provided was ultimately bound to be false. It would be easier for her to accept my fate if she believed I had gone down fighting.
She answered the phone after the first ring. She didn’t even ask who I was — just went right ahead and greeted me by name. This Fiona was a self-assured sort. I wasn’t given a hard time for my no-show (which I’ll admit, had caused me some anxiety) and made an appointment for the next day. I was given a time, an address and that was it. No foreplay — just business. I guess that’s all I was to her. I was probably one of 100 terminal losers she was meeting with that day. I’d listen politely to what she had to say, thank her and go home. I doubted the possibility of a follow-up session. This was merely so I could look my mother in the eye and honestly tell her that I was doing everything I could.
It wasn’t worth wasting anymore think space on the cancer, my mother or the appointment with Fiona, so I focused my attention on the ceiling stain in the kitchen. I’ve never been taught the fine art of cleaning, so I had no idea how to tackle it. I couldn’t reach the ceiling with a damp rag (my usual approach to stains) so I settled with poking at it with a broom handle. I scraped cave wall-like symbols in the stain, which summoned a shower of toxic dust to float upon me. The surface of the stain was hardened with age. Just below this surface was a sludgy interior that began to drip and kick up a sickly sweet stink. It felt like I was making progress so I poked harder, revelling in the movement of my arms more than anything else. With a burst of unnecessary momentum, I pushed the broom handle through the stain and then through the ceiling. It lodged itself pretty tight and I met a lot of resistance gently trying to tug it to freedom. I wrenched at it, freeing the broom and bringing the surrounding ceiling down with it. I fell backward as the plaster and wood ravaged my kitchen floor. I surveyed my body for damage, found nothing and turned my attention to the damage. Beneath the ceiling rubble something was writhing — something big. My body froze, except for my left arm, which crept toward the broom. Whatever it was, I was going to fuck it up. With my weapon in tow, I slowly got to my feet and made a creeping advance. I prepared to strike the mess in its writhe but lost my concentration when an arm broke through. In its hand was an unsullied cup of tea. I was too confused to attack.
“Excuse me, sir… would you mind giving me a hand?”
Whatever lurked beneath the collapse had an awfully proper English accent, which disarmed my fear somewhat. English accents, I’ve always reasoned, are unfair… a nice English accent can deliver the most terrible news and still find a grateful ear. I kicked away the mess, revealing more of this odd intruder along the way.
“That’s a good lad,” he said while wobbling to his feet.
He was an old sort, in his sixties by the look. His right eye socket munched on a monocle and he was dressed impeccably in a two piece suit. “What the fuck?” was all I managed to say.
“I’m awfully sorry about this. I’m not sure what happened really. I was resting and then all of a sudden… I found myself in this unusual situation.”
I stared at his cup of tea. “You were resting with a cup of tea?”
“Of course, old chap. I never go anywhere without a nice Earl Grey.”
“You didn’t spill a drop.”
“When you’ve been enjoying the Earl for as long as I have, you get rather good at it.”
“Who the hell are you?” I finally asked.
“How embarrassing to have not afforded you an introduction. Arthur Middleton, at you service.”
Arthur extended his hand toward mine. It felt like a dead fish, which made me hungry. “Do you live on the floor above?”
He laughed nervously and took a sip from his tea. “Not exactly… we share a floor, you and I.”
“We what?”
“I don’t quite know how to tell you this… it’s been a long time coming I suppose. I… live in your ceiling.”
I slapped my face, determined to believe it was a dream. All the slapping achieved was the urge to cry.
“How can you live up there?” I asked with a finger point.
“It’s an odd story… I’m an Oxford man. I immigrated to your fine country 40-odd years ago. I was chasing a particularly lovely woman called Beef.”
“Beef?”
“Yes indeed. I’ve never fallen for a woman who wasn’t called Beef. It is firmly ensconced in my heritage. My parents would be most dismayed were I to find love outside of this name. Anyway, I followed Beef to this country and we pursued a romance of sorts. The romance was awkward and short-lived, thanks in part, to her complete loathing of me. I was too pigheaded to stop my pursuit, even after my face became nothing more than a mace-induced blister. The new fellow she started seeing just about knocked my pig head off. He didn’t take too kindly to my increasingly desperate advances and gave me a solid beating that sent me to hospital. Well, I was discharged some months later and found I had no place to go. I became a low-cost escort for a brief while but made very little money and my pimp had me incarcerated. The injustice of it was staggering! Myself and some of my fellow inmates devised a rollicking escape plot that involved seducing the warden at the jail ball. Long story short, I managed to escape and found myself on the run. I needed a place to lay low. At the time, this was an abandoned apartment block and I figured it would be a suitable place to buy some time. As it turns out, I purchased an awful lot of time. So much time that I’m still here.”