Through the windows

“The poor bastard never saw it coming.”

He spoke these words sitting on the kerb with his head in his hands.  I didn't know what to tell him.

I’d been watching all along. I was at the sink rinsing my coffee cup when he left at 7:30, as usual. And as soon as the garage door closed, I saw their curtains disappear.

Well, that caught my eye.  She was ripping them down. I knew then something was wrong, this being mid-December and no time for spring cleaning. I stood for awhile, peeking between the blinds.  I like to know what’s going on in my neighbourhood.

She stood at the bare window for a minute or two, staring wide-eyed at the neglected lawn, naked trees, and the cement-coloured sky.  I raised my hand up just in case she looked but she didn't–she saw the dog, his dog, big stupid thing licking himself on the front lawn like it was the only thing to do.

She took the things he never liked: the pillow she’d embroidered with the words “Happiness Is…”, the gloomy family portrait from the mantel, the one they had taken at the mall just after the baby was born.  He said only morons say cheese, and why do we need a picture when we own a camera?  She never answered.  I saw her throw her clothes and the boy’s into bags.  She packed up the blankets and pillows but she left the sheets looking gray and wrinkled, strangely flat.

In the kitchen, she grabbed the coffee maker and the frying pan and threw the ivy-patterned china into a box. I saw her put the food from the refrigerator into a cooler and drag it to the garage.  She left the dog food, though.  The boy sat at the kitchen table eating cereal.  When she ripped the clock off the wall he even didn't look up, just kept lifting the spoon to his mouth like it was the meaning of life.  A lot like his dad, that one.

I made myself a sandwich and ate over the sink, remembering when they moved in seven years ago.  I brought them a casserole: tuna surprise.  I was the welcome wagon, figured I might as well get acquainted, seeing as our houses were so close.  Nobody else minding things around here; somebody’s got to do it.

That in mind, I pulled up the blinds just in time to wave as the loaded minivan took off, but they didn't notice.  I stood for a long time watching those windows like empty sockets, hours before he pulled in.  He stood in the dark kitchen like he didn't know how to turn on the light.  And when his car tore out of the garage, the dog yelped once.

I opened the door.  He bent over his dog.  He said, “The poor bastard never saw it coming!” He covered his eyes.

Maybe it’s easier seeing things through windows. Maybe it’s better not to see.

- Kalyani Kamat

Founder of Bun Intended