Slice Of Life

Elena shivered. She felt cold tiles pressed against her cheek and heard a whistle from the teapot on the stove. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and that saw she was lying on the kitchen floor. She looked around. Through a spinning blur, she noticed a puddle of water on the floor. “I must have knocked down the teapot.” She shut her eyes. She lay deathlike for a few minutes, then, she opened her eyes again. The room was blurry but still.

She reached for the door frame and helped herself up. “Ouch,” she said, rubbing her shoulder as she slowly walked to a chair. Her head felt heavy. She carefully examined it for spots of sticky blood but found none. “At least I didn’t break it.” Rubbing the sore spot on her shoulder, she looked at the clock.

1:15 pm.

Stretching her back, her old bones made a clicking sound. Elena had never felt like this before: helpless and old. At 78 years old, she prided her good health. She didn’t eat much, took long walks in the mornings and short ones before bedtime. She had to give up heels, that’s true, but she dyed her hair wheat blond, powdered her face and put on mascara and lipstick before going out. “This way, no one gives me more than 73.” she used to laugh to herself.

Elena turned off the stove, picked up the pieces from the broken teapot on the floor and dried the puddle of water. “Old cowm” she smirked and looked out of the window. It was gloomy. Heavy rain clouds were slowly moving above the horizon into the city. “Weather changes so fast nowadays. It was so sunny, bright, and now…” She turned on the lights. “It seems so late.”

The kitchen clock showed 1.15 pm. Elena came closer to it and listened to the silence. “I see.” She knocked on its plastic cover with a knuckle of her finger and heard quiet ticking in reply. “Better.”

After mending her messed up hair, she went back to the living room and turned on the TV. A two o’clock show was on.

“Gosh, I must have been unconscious for a while.” She tried to watch a show but found it boring. She ran thought the channels. Nothing. her favorite documentary wasn’t going to come on until 8 pm. So much time to kill.

Until lately, Elena had handled her retirement pretty well. First, she enjoyed slowing down and the fact that she did not have to be anywhere, that she had all this time at her hands to do with whatever she pleased. Then, she got bored. And sad. There were only so many shows to watch on TV, only so many new exhibits downtown, and only so few people left to visit. Of course, there was always her past, her memories, which became part of her everyday life. She looked at the pictures on the dresser and picked up the black and white portrait of Alexander, her late husband.. She had taken the picture as her final project for a photography class. She remembered how she turned on the lights, draped dark fabric over the door, took Alexander by the hand and marched him against the black background. She begged him to stay still and look serious, but he kept smiling, more with his eyes than lips. “Is it a school project or a doctorate?” He had joked.In the picture his head was half-turned, his index finger bent underneath his chin. There was a calm look in his blue eyes, now faded into grey, a single strand of curly light hair across his forehead. Elena sighed as she remembered that day forty years ago. She put the picture back and looked at the one next to it: a colorful picture of her with former colleagues. Elena smiled. She loved her work. For thirty five years, she had worked at the same hospital, with the same people. For the last ten years ago, she had lived her life around her work. Her apartment was only thirty minutes away from the hospital, so she stopped by there even when it wasn’t her work hours, just to spend time with the people. Her colleagues became her friends and she, a childless woman, became Godmother to their kids.

She looked at the calendar. Friday.

“The Girls are probably finishing up.” She smiled as she thought of the “girls”. Most of them were pushing their 60s, but to her they were just “girls”. They worked together for so long that she knew their routine as if it was hers: right now, it was time to fill out paperwork, wash the utensils, and close up centrifuges and microscopes. As soon as they were done, they would all gather in a break room, a corner hidden behind a high cabinet, to have some tea and cookies before going home. Elena sighed and smiled. They would chat, laugh and gossip a little, just like they always do.

“Why not?” She rubbed her shoulder. It didn’t hurt. “I will stop at a grocery store on the way and surprise them with a cake.” She turned off the TV. “I can be there in probably an hour.”

She got dressed, powered her face, put lipstick on, made her hair into a French horn and got out her favorite set of turquoise earrings. On the way out, she glanced into the mirror and saw an old, tall woman in a long black coat, a spot of red on her lips, bright blue gemstones in her ears. She wrapped a red scarf around her neck and shoulders, letting it loose on her back.

“Much better.” She grabbed her purse and left.

At quarter to three, she got off the bus stop next to her work. She strolled the familiar gravel walkway along the river, looking at the reflection of the houses in its dark water. There were black silhouettes of bare trees on the other side. She walked toward the blue guard booth and pushed the door.

“Good after… ” The booth was empty. “…noon.” She looked behind the door. “Hello?” There was no reply. “That’s weird.” Elena signed her name in the registry book and followed the deserted courtyard. Walking carefully not to slip on the wet yellow leaves, she felt an annoying sensation on the back of her head as if someone were watching her. She paused and turned around. No one was there, although, the black barred windows did look like dozens of empty eyeholes staring at her. The only living being Elena saw was a crow sitting on an old elder tree. Its branches were standing out against the yellow walls of the building and reminding her of crooked hands. The bird noticed the woman below, spread its black wings and made a harsh yell. “Caw, caw.” Elena shivered and hurried toward the entrance.

On the wall next to the door, she noticed a new shiny sign with words engraved in it. “Psychiatric Hospital No. 2”.

Elena pushed the door open and walked in. The soles of her shoes echoed on the ceramic floor. She stopped and listened. There was not a sound except for music playing somewhere in the administrative wing. She followed the familiar white corridors: arched ceiling with fluorescent lights suspended on metal wires; light colored ceramic floor with black tiles inserted along the sides; brown doors leading into the rooms, all closed. She smiled; that floor has always reminded her of a narrow airplane aisle with illuminated strips on the sides. She had always imagined it to have a hidden meaning, as if it knew something that she did not. She got to the door of the clinical laboratory and knocked. There was no reply. She knocked again, waited for a few minutes and turned the knob. The door easily opened and she went in. There was no one in the front room. She glanced over the rows of tubes with samples of blood, testers, and microscopes. She scrunched her eyebrows as she noticed the door of a cabinet with glass tester disks wide open. She closed it. The worn out linoleum silenced Elena’s steps as she moved around. It made her feel awkward, as if she was a ghost. She looked behind the tall cabinet into the break room. No one was there.

“That’s really strange.” She looked at the round clock on the wall. “But of course!” She tapped herself on the forehead. “There must be a meeting or something. Silly me. I needed to call before dragging myself here.”

She walked out and heard rash steps down the corridor and as she turned the corner, she almost ran into a young nurse.

“I am sorry.” Elena looked but didn’t recognize her. “Excuse me, do you know where the laboratory’s staff is?”

The nurse put her hands into the pockets of her old fashioned uniform and starred at Elena. “What?”

“There is no one at the laboratory. Is there a meeting or…”

“Laboratory? Have no idea.” She hurried away.

“So rude! Never happened in my time.” She walked back, past the information board and the rows of photographs of long deceased people who once worked here and who looked at her from behind their oddly-dated spectacles. Elena closed the front door behind and strolled toward the bus stop.

There was no bus to be seen. She sat down on the bench and looked at the puddles of muddy water on the street.

“I am wondering if it’s going to rain today.”

“Don’t think so.”

She turned toward the voice. “What?” She looked at the old man sitting next to her.

“I said that I don’t think it’s going to rain today.” He looked at her through his thick glasses and smiled.

The sound of his voice was familiar, but she could not quite place it.

“It looks like that every day, you know.” He looked up in the cloudy grey sky. “It looks like it’s about to rain but it never rains.”

She shivered and clutched the handles of her purse.

“Ah, here it is.” The man got up as the bus pulled to the stop. “It won’t rain, Elena.” He touched his hat goodbye and got onto the bus.

“How does he know my name?” She stared after the bus. “Gosh, that’s funny.” She cracked. “Of course. He looks exactly like Professor Popov back from my intern years!”

“I hope it wasn’t route 27! Was it?”Elena heard rash steps and a breathless voice behind her.

“No, it was route 13.” She turned around. “Lyudmila!”

“Elena!” The woman smiled. “What a surprise!” They hugged. “I am so glad to see you. How are you?”

“I am good. I am good.” She stepped backward. “Gosh, you look great! Dark hair looks so nice on you. And…you did lose some weight, did you? And a new hair cut! You know, you are one of those rare women who look astonishing with short hair.”

“Enough, enough complements.” Lyudmila laughed. “How is the retirement?”

“It’s good. Plenty of time, you know.”

“Health?”

“I don’t complain, thought I did fell down earlier today, but it’s minor. How about you?”

Lyudmila started to look for something in her purse. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, so silly of me. I went to visit the girls but there was a meeting or whatever, no one was there. Do you know why?”

“No. I don’t.” She got out a cigarette. “You see, I don’t work anymore.”

“How so? You are too young to retire.”

She noticed Lyudmila’s fingers trembling as she lit the cigarette.

“Lyuda, what is going on?”

She didn’t reply.

“Lyuda,” She stumbled. “Lyuda, is it… your husband?”

Lyudmila inhaled the cigarette. “My husband.” She echoed.

“Oh, hello ladies!”

The women turned. “Konstantin!”

“Lyudmila, Elena!”, He warmly shook their hands. Konstantin was in his late 50s, well groomed and stocky. “I am so happy to see you both! How have you been? Elena, please do seat down.”

He took the women by their shoulders and led them to the bench.

“I am good, I am good, thank you.” Elena smiled. “How have you …” She stopped. Words froze in her throat. Her fingers tuned into icicles. “But…” She swallowed. “But, Konstantin, you cannot be here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Konstantin…” She looked at Lyudmila but she was busy playing with the lighter. “Konstantin, I went to your funeral three years ago.”

He kept smiling.

“Konstantin, you are dead.”

Another bus arrived and left.

“When is number 30 going to show up, I wonder.” He looked at Elena. “Of course I am dead. Whom else did you expect to see here?”

Elena stared at him, turned to Lyudmila. “Lyuda, what is going on here?”

“We are all dead here.” She put the lighter back into her purse.

“What?”

“Oh, Elena.” The smile disappeared from Konstantin’s face. “I am so sorry!” He sat down next to her, took off his gloves and took her hands into his. “I am so sorry. I didn’t think it was your first day here!”

“My first day? What are you talking about?”

“You died.” Lyudmila’s voice sounded deep and distant, as if coming from a grave. She let a smoke out. “You probably died earlier today.”

“No, no I didn’t! I just fell down and knocked my head.” She caught her breath. “Oh, God!” She gasped for air. “Oh, God! I didn’t just knock my head. I…”

She looked at Konstantin.

“You probably had a concussion followed by a stroke. I am sorry, dear.”

Elena fell silent. She was staring at the puddles of water, how they mirrored the grey sky and reflected the cars passing by.

She felt a warm tear streaming down her face, making its way down her cheek until she tasted it on her lips.

“Elena, it’s not that bad, believe me.” Konstantin squeezed her hand. “It’s only the first days when it’s tough. You will feel better.”

“What is going to be tough?”

“Accepting being dead.” He got up. “I think, it’s my bus. I shall go.”

“Go? Where?” Elena looked at the man through a cloud of tears.

“Home, of course.”

“Home?”

“Yes. My lovely wife is here too and my brother is coming over for dinner, so, I have to leave you here.”

The bus slowed down. “Finally. The 30 is always behind schedule.” He turned to them. “Goodbye, ladies. I do hope to see you soon.”

Two women were left alone.

Elena looked at Lyudmila. “So, that means that you…”

“I died a few months ago. Cancer. Lung cancer. At least, it was fast.”

“I am so sorry, dear.” She hugged her.

She coughed. “My husband didn’t even show up at my funeral.”

“Oh, dear.”

“He had an affair. Or rather, affairs. On his so-called business trips.”

“Oh, Lyuda, I am so sorry.”

“The bastard had been cheating on me for years.” She slowly exhaled and for a brief moment her face disappeared into the smoke. “Did I know about it? Oh, yes, I did. But I put up with it. Kids, apartment, you know.” She smirked. “Stuff.”

Elena squeezed her hand.

“He died the next day after my funeral. Car accident.” She paused and smiled. “Fatal.”

“Oh, dear.”

“And now,” Her shoulders dropped. “Now, I have to go home to him.”

“Why?”

“Where else am I supposed to go? He is the one I was with my whole life.” She straightened up and proclaimed in a profound voice, “And so it will be after death.” She leaned back against the glass wall. “Eternal bond. Just him and work. I got stuck here, you see; in between home and this bus stop.”

Elena clutched her hands. “So, people we were with there are here?”

“Where else shall they go? If they are dead, they are here.”

“But...” Elena held her breath. “Lyuda…”

Her friend waved to the man sitting on the bench at the bus stop across the street. He waved back. “See him?”

“Whom?”

“That man, over there.”

“What about him?”

“I see him every time I come here. He just seats at that bench. Never gets on a bus.”

“So what?”

“I wonder why.”

“Lyuda, I just was thinking that if all dead people are…”

“I am thinking that he is afraid to go home.” Lyudmilla looked at Elena. “Are you listening to me?”

“What?”

“Are you listening?”

“Oh, yes, sorry, you were thinking…”

“I was thinking that he is afraid to go home.”

“What? C’mon, Lyuda, he is dead for God’s sake!”

“He is, but his wife, kids. I think…” She looked at him again. “Maybe, he prefers not to know. How about that?”

“But...” Elena got excited. “It means that Alexander is here too!”

Lyudmila nodded. “He is.”

“Gosh, I need to go home, then!” She jumped off the bench. “Where, where is the freaking number 27?” She balanced on the curb. “Lyuda?”

“What?”

“Do you think he will recognize me? I mean, he died ten year ago.”

“Of course, he will, silly.”

“Oh, gosh!” She emptied her purse on the bench. “I knew it! I forgot my mascara, my powder! Do you have one? Oh, don’t give me that look! Do you have it or not?”

“No.”

“Oh, you are no help at all!”

Elena paced back and forth until she saw a bus in the dim light of the afternoon. “Lyuda, it’s number 27. Let’s go.”

“You go.”

“And you?”

“I will stay here a little bit longer.”

“You sure?”

“Go, just go.”

The bus doors opened and Elena got in. Lyudmila saw her sit down by the window, saw her smiling, and waving goodbye. Waving back, she watched the red taillights until they disappeared into the evening mist. The street lights came on. She shivered and wrapped herself tighter in her coat. She took a drag of her cigarette, looking at its white paper body hugged between her thin fingers.

“Until death parts us.” She smirked. “What a joke.”

Sitting in the worn out seat by the window, Elena watched her friend at the deserted bus stop until the tiny light of the slim cigarette died in the darkness.

“Poor Lyuda.” She looked at her wrist watch. Almost five. She took out her wallet and stared at Alexander’s picture. She smiled.

She was finally heading home.