Apartment 7

I am most proud of this one i have happy with this one but still let me know if there is anything that needs to fixed The old women is biased on the character Maude from Harold and Maude (1971)

The stone path outlined the clean cut rows of grass. That the grey stones that sits on the grass in even rows. Reading you’re stone still makes regret not being there for you when you needed me Jennifer Gracie Davis birthday March, 4th 1974 death dates May 12th 1999. Bringing your favorite sunshine roses that you said always remind you of summer the way everything would shine.

“Hello, young man.” My train of thought gets broken by an old bat, who hunches over a wooden cane. She walks up next to me setting white and blue daises to the grave next to Jennifer’s. She sighs contently and looks at the tombstone.

“This is my husband’s grave he would 89 today he passed away about six years ago.” I pretend not to listen. She looks up at me again I try to stare back at her.

 “Who was Jennifer?” I gulp it’s none of her business in who Jennifer is I don’t need her pity.

            “She was a close friend.” I can tell she is glaring at me. I feel her cane come down on the back of my head.

            “Ow what was that for you old bat!” I rub the back of my head. She grabs my arm and forces me to walk along the stone path.

            “Didn’t your mother teach you not to lie; you’re going to help to a bench.” I try to break away for her arm wrapped around mine, but she is strong for an old ‘feeble’ crone.

 “Tell me about your wife.” I give knowing I won’t win against this old bode.

“How did you know it was my wife?” She hangs her cane on my arm as she looks her for her handkerchiefs with colorful flowers embodied on it.

“The way you were looking at the grave was the longer look a man gives when he missing a woman.” She smiles at me as she blows her nose. I feel embarrassed with her staring at me like that. I think about what to say about Jennifer.

“Jennifer was a creative warm person with a bubbly personality. Never had a bad though about anyone and always saw life on brighter side but that day I never saw her like that before.”

 

 

1992 Long View apartment complex

 

Building it was in an older building that was completely out of brick. Our tiny two bedroom apartment had lime green wallpaper with hardwood floors. The kitchen was a dark orange with yellow flowers. Jennifer’s favorite part of the apartment was the bathroom mostly the bathtub it was a long pure white bathtub that stood up from the floor with legs that were craved to shape like cat paws. It was line with gold paint on the rim the faucets were painted too looked like gold there was a shower head that connected to the tub so you could spray yourself down. After we got unpacked and got our furniture set up. The first thing that we did was tear off the ugly wallpaper. We replaced the lime green wallpaper with this red and black striped that went horizontal around the living room. Jennifer replaced the kitchen wallpaper with a pure white one then painted rainbow hippie flowers all over the wall. 

 

After about a year of living in the tiny our apartment Jennifer stared to eat ice cream a lot. She was gaining weight and getting sick in the morning. I would come home to her eating weird things. The worse I remember was whipped cream on nacho cheese chips. She stared going on a diet it wasn’t working thought she still was gaining weight. I came home one day and Jennifer jumped on me. She was so happy she was talking to so fast I couldn’t understand her. When I claimed her down and she told me I was so happy tears stared to stream down my eyes we held each other close we were so happy. Nothing could go wrong I thought at the time…

            She would get sick after eating anything no matter what it was. I told her it was just really bad morning sickness she didn’t listen to me. Her belly was big and round with the baby but she was so skinny she couldn’t eat anything without getting sick. She was always in the bathroom vomiting. Jennifer complained about this red scratching rash got on her lower back that would bleed. After the third week of her throwing up she forced me to take her to hospital. What the doctor told us it felt like he was trying to stab my heart with a steak knife.

            “Mr. and Miss. Davis I am sorry to tell you have a rare type of food poising it’s called Listeriosis. It causes vomiting with a bad skin rash. I even worse news for you though this food poising is most common to happen in pregnant women, but there is also a change that it can cause still born and sorry to say your son he didn’t make it.”

I have never seen Jennifer so pale or lifeless tears stream down her face but she never made a sound. We stayed in the hospital Jennifer was emotionless in the hospital for days. She wouldn’t eat or move just sit there starting out in the window. The day we went home, Jennifer was almost like a zombie she was pale with a skunk in face, blood shot eyes with tangled hair. We got back into our small two bedroom apartment. Jennifer slowly shuffled along the floor still barefoot and in the white fluffy bathrobe. She walked into our bedroom and laid on her side I tried to drown out her sobbing.

            A mouth passed after we lost our son, Jennifer still hasn’t recover she still stays at home lying in bed or crying.  Today I come home to see her in the kitchen she is sitting on the counter still in her what used white bath robe she is now painting over the colorful flowers that used to make her so happy. Today she was painting over them with thick black paint.

            “Jennifer, Can we talk?” She looks down at me she had black paint on her check I help her climb down from the counter. I hug her closely she is motionless.

            “I know it’s hard but we can try again.” I try to smile for her sake but I see in her eyes that have become colorless and pale. She is not the women I feel in love with any more she is not bright and happy as she used to be. She doesn’t look outside or paint as she used to I love her but I don’t know this women.

            “Jennifer, I love you can you please say something to know your still there.” I lean my head on her shoulder.

            “I am going to take a bath…” Jennifer lightly pushed me off her and slowly shuffles to the bathroom hearing the door close lightly then the sound of running water. I walk to the bedroom to get her a change of clothes and a towel. I sit on the couch waiting to hear her get out of the bath to give her alone time.

            It seems like hours before I finally give up and knock on the door to check up on her.

 “Jennifer?” No response I push the door open slightly the room is still thick with steam and moister in the air form the hot water. What I find in the tub is what breaks my heart. She had painted the walls with her bright red blood the bath tub overflowed with her blood mixed with the hot water. The small shiny razor that had given her hope that it would be quick and painless was stained red. I can’t control my tears that are flowing from my eyes. I grab the towel wrapping her up pulling her out of the bath tub and setting her in my lap holding her close to my heart sobbing into her lifeless body.

            “Why would you do this? I kept asking her but she never answers me as I held her.” I turn to look at the old women whom I have been sharing story with. I rummage thru my pocket and pull out a piece of paper stained with black paint and blood. I had it to the old women she reads it out loud.

 

“I am sorry I am not myself have let the depression of losing our son consume me and I cannot turn back I love you please forgive me, Jennifer.” The old women is quite for a while in though as she studied the note. 

            “I don’t think you should blame yourself.” She finally said handing the note back to me I flooded it in my pocket.

            “How can I not blame myself if I was there for her more she would still be here?”

            “You don’t know that? It seem like to me that she was lost I don’t think you could have helped her she was in so much pain she let it consumer her.” I think before answering in how Jennifer was the last few days before her suicide she was lost she would forget who I was and never smile. I didn’t know that a woman was living in my house at that time but the women who died was Jennifer but the one who committed suicide wasn’t MY Jennifer.   

            “She loved you she would want you to move on with your life.” The old women stood up adjusted her cane I got to help her. I held her arm as we walked together.

            “I never asked your name.” I look down at her.        

“It’s Jennifer Peterson.” She looks up with her bright eyes.