Condo Conversion, Chapter 6

           I kept nodding off at the wheel. Redwood City is a good hour and a half drive from Rohnert Park, and that is if there's no traffic. Today, of course, there was traffic. When I reached Petaluma I saw the sign: Rohnert Park Five Miles. I was there but I wasn't. This made me even more tired. And when I'm really tired every minute spent concentrating feels like ten. I slapped myself across the face to stay alert, but it did little good. The car sputtered violently. I couldn't be out of gas already, could I? Dear God, I thought, not now. Was there ever a good time?

           Finally, I arrived.  I left everything in the unlocked car: jacket, briefcase, case file.  I was hustling to the door of my little bungalow apartment when she came out of nowhere: Marion.

           “Well hello,” she said with a strange smile on her ashen, withered face.  “You must be my new neighbor.”

            I did my best to fake it.  “Hello, Dear.  Why yes.  My name is Peter.”

            She held out a shaking hand and I took it.  She began talking.  I wasn’t really listening, but some of it sunk in.  She was ninety-two years old.  Her grandchildren visited her regularly, as well as her son.  She wondered if the rumors that the apartment complex was going to be sold were true.  I told her I didn’t know, even though I probably knew more about it than she did.  She kept talking.

            “I guess it doesn’t matter much from my point of view,” she said.  “When you reach my age you don’t think too far off into the future.”

            That made sense to me.  It must be liberating in a way, standing on the edge of the abyss, when every day really could be your last.  There was nothing left to defend, even your own existence. 

            She kept talking and I stopped listening.  All I wanted to do was jack off and go to sleep.  It had gotten so pathetic for me that I actually visualized it like I used to visualize fucking.  Me jacking off.  Afterwards, the land of dreams was only a few moments away.  I could hardly contain myself. 

            But I didn’t want to be rude.  What if today was her last day and her final human interaction was with me?  I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I was inconsiderate.  She had lived through world wars, raised a family, been somebody important to other people.  I had nothing to do all day.   Nobody relied on me. 

            There was a pause in the conversation and I took it.

            “Well Marion, I guess I’d better be going, then.”

            “It has been so nice meeting you, young man.  It would give me the greatest pleasure if you would join me for dinner one night.”

            I was tired and had to extricate myself from the conversation.  And who was I to turn down a free meal, anyway?  “I’d love that,” I said enthusiastically.

            “Good.  Tonight at six thirty.”

            “I’ll be there,” I replied.  I had seven and a half hours.