Outandabout March 2022 Issue195

50 | OUT AND ABOUT COSTA BLANCA
ANNE RODGER
LONELY
By
ANNE RODGER
He was alone. It seemed like years since
his wife had died, but was barely one.
At first he was numb - feeling nothing.
Didn’t want to do anything. Just passed the
time.
He could hear life going on around him.
Families in other apartments. Children’s voices,
dogs barking, shouting, singing. Ordinary
people with ordinary lives.
He used to be ordinary. Married to Jean for
almost 50 years - with all its highs and lows.
They enjoyed an annual holiday, meeting up
with family. Occasionally a row - usually about
money, but nothing that couldn’t be sorted out
by an early night and a kiss and cuddle.
It had all gone. He was alone. More than that -
he was lonely. So lonely. What could he do? His
job had always been to look after the car and
the garden. Do odd jobs.
None of these things mattered any more.
The kitchen was littered with open packets
and empty tins. He ate off a tray in front of
the television - frozen meals heated up in the
microwave.
Enjoyed nothing. Felt nothing. He didn’t live -
he existed.
He forced his eyes open. It was getting light.
Uncomfortable, difficult to move. Confusing.
He tried to focus. Cold - so cold. And wet.
Where was he? Not in bed. Not in the house.
Then he knew. He was on the floor in an alleyway.
Propped against the wall. Head pounding
- concentrating, trying to remember the last bar
he’d been in.
Every evening for months, he had used bars to
escape from his loneliness. 7 o’clock in the first
bar he would enjoy a couple of drinks. Other
bars and more drinks followed. Next morning
he would wake up with only a hazy memory of
the previous evening. Sometimes on the floor -
or the settee, but, up to now, he had managed
to get home.
“Is that you, Fred? What are you doing on the
floor? Are you alright?’
She came up to him and bent down. “Oh dear.”
Didn’t know what to do.
“Fred, can you hear me? It’s Iris. From number
4. I was a friend of your Jean. Remember?”
He didn’t want to remember. “Go away, Iris,
please leave me alone.”
“I can’t do that, Fred. Let me help you get up.
Sit on the wall for a bit. Then we can decide
what to do.”
He began to realize his situation. Felt ashamed.
Could feel the wetness and something unpleasant
in his trousers. Didn’t want her to touch
him - yet knew she was trying to help.
Once out of the alleyway, they were on the
main road - only 200 yards to the apartments.
Iris was puffing and panting trying to support
him as he shuffled along.
Somehow they made it. “Give me your key,
Fred, and we’ll get you inside.”
Iris didn’t want to intrude, so when his coat
was off and she had put a blanket round him,
said :-
“I’m going home now to get Jack up. When
he’s gone to his allotment, I’ll come back to see
how you are. Try to undress and have a shower
- it will make you feel better. We need to talk.”
Fred really tried. He couldn’t be like this when
she came back. He must show he appreciated
her help.
There were still nice people in the world.
People who cared. He wasn’t family, or even a
friend. Yet she had helped him.
He must stop feeling sorry for himself. Give
himself a chance. He had sunk into his grief -
escaped into loneliness. When Iris came back
he would tell her.
He knew he had to live with it and not seek
oblivion through alcohol.
One of Jean’s sayings was ‘A trouble shared is a
trouble halved.’ He smiled at the memory.