I look at the
dirty dishes in the sink; they are stacked one on top of the other as they climb
towards the ceiling. Food has been left out on the counter to rot and there is
the strong smell of decay.
I open the fridge it looks as if he hasn’t touched any of his orange juice in days. I begin to wonder if he has gone off his medication again. The screaming coming from Bill M.’s bedroom is intense. It’s time to check on him to make sure that he is ok.
I open the fridge it looks as if he hasn’t touched any of his orange juice in days. I begin to wonder if he has gone off his medication again. The screaming coming from Bill M.’s bedroom is intense. It’s time to check on him to make sure that he is ok.
I knock on the
door and he continues to scream. I raise my fist and begin to pound, he
immediately becomes silent. “Bill, are you ok?” I ask. It takes a few moments
but he responds with “Just a minute, I’m busy.” “Can you come out and see me?”
I ask through the closed door “I want to make sure that everything is alright.”
A few more moments go by and then I hear him turn the lock and open the door.
Bill M. steps out of his room and take a step towards me. The look on his face immediately
worries me.
“Hi, I was just
checking I haven’t seen you in awhile.” Bill M. keeps his gaze steady on me. It
is clear that he hasn’t taken a shower in days, his smell is overpowering. Bill
M. is wearing matching red pajamas that are covered with green Christmas trees.
He is unshaven and has several days of beard growth on his face; his eyes are
pinched and bloodshot.
“You haven’t seen
me in awhile?” he asks walking towards me, every step he takes forward is a
step I take back. It takes me seconds to realize that Bill M. is clearly off
his medication and delusional. “You haven’t seen me in awhile?” he asks again
his voice rising. I step back and put the kitchen table between us.
“Really?
Really? You haven’t seen me in awhile?” Every step around the table Bill M. takes, I counter,
I will not let him get that close to me.
“How come you’ve
been listening to me?” he screams. “Do you know what it’s like to have you and
everyone hovering over me and listening in to everything I say?” “Do you know
how hard it is to do all of this?” he says waving his hands around the kitchen.
He slowly starts to walk around the table, step for step I keep away from him.
It is scene out of every horror movie, where you realize that you are talking
to someone who is not there. His talking becomes faster and I can’t follow his
thought pattern. “This!” he screams pointing to the sink.”This!”
“Bill are you
ok?” I ask trying to change whatever subject we are on at this moment. “Am I
ok?” he screams, “Am I ok?” “Why wouldn’t I be?” he screams as spittle flies
from his lips. “Bill are you on your medication?” I ask. “I don’t need
medicine!” he screams. “You are all the same!” he says as his hands rise up and
grab his face, he then begins to pull handfuls of hair in opposite directions.
Bill M. is flipping out and I am going through the index box of my brain trying
to figure out what to do.
“If I take the
pills then they can hear what I am thinking and I don’t want them to do that.”
Each word is slow and punctuated and he starts to get even more distressed.
“Bill,” is there someone I can call for you?” “Call for me?” “Call for me?” his
eyes roll towards the ceiling “Maybe they need to call someone for you!” he
screams and points at the ceiling. “Holy fuck, I’m screwed.” I think. My brain
tells me to remain calm, keep him talking and head to the front door. I am
going to ring Tommy and Roy’s bell, hopefully they are upstairs.
I take a step to
my right and Bill counters my steps. ‘Stop!” he screams “Stop, listening in on
me!” Suddenly Bill lunges and I jump out of the way. With one arm he sweeps
everything from the kitchen table to the floor. I fake a step to my left and
make a run for the door. Bill pushes the table out of the way and is right
behind me, I bolt towards the door. “All of you!” he screams “All of you!”
Bill M. is right on
my heels as I make it to the front door. I get one hand on the knob and the
next thing I know I am flying through the air.
To be continued……
Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.
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