Chapter 7

  No Significant Impact

  On Sunday morning, Scott pulls up to the curb and parks his car. He’s in front of an old, rundown house. A single car sits on the driveway collecting dust, cobwebs, and sun damage. He gets out holding a bag of takeout and walks up to the door. He opens it, no key, no knock, he lets himself in. The interior of the house matches the exterior; it’s dark, despite the number of windows, and it’s musty. It smells of pee and like a carpet that hasn’t been changed since the 80s. Scott is used to the smell, but it still makes him a little nauseous.

  He walks through the hallway and straight to the kitchen. At the end of a faded dining table, an old man sits alone beneath a single overhead light. He looks up as Scott enters.

  “You don’t quit, do you?” The old man mutters.

  “Hey Steven. It’s good to see you too! I’m great, almost died by a banana, and a car, and look what I got?” He sets the bag down on the table in front of Steven. “Ta-da!” he says, adding a little flourish with his hands.

  Steven stares at the bag, unimpressed.

  “I hope you told them no cheese this time.”

  “Yeah, I did, trust me, we both remember the last time. Took me a while to get you all sorted, and I’m not looking to relive looking 50 years into my future.”

  Scott reaches over and grabs a pill box from the table in front of the old man. He heads to the pantry and begins pulling down a handful of pill and vitamin bottles.

  “Looks like you’re out of B12, no wonder you’re such a sweetheart today. I’ll swing by the pharmacy next week and get you some more.”

  “I don’t need no goddamn pills…” Steven grumbles behind him.

  “You know the deal, if you don’t take your pills, no meals. That means broccoli and asparagus until you decide to meet me halfway.” Scott grins over his shoulder, teasing.

  He brings the bottles to the kitchen counter.

  “So what did you do this week?” He asks as he sorts the pills.

  “...I took a walk.”

  “Wwwoooww, big step for you. I’m proud of you.” He smiles, genuinely. “Where did you go?”

  “I threw out some trash.”

  “I don’t know if that counts as walk, but I’m glad you got a few seconds of air that doesn’t reek of piss and anger.”

  Steven begins rifling through the takeout bag, he takes out a burger, a cup of fruit, and a Diet Pepsi. He grabs the container of noodles and walks to the refrigerator. It’s a vintage fridge, it looks like it should have been put to rest years ago, but it still putters along. Scott pauses what he was doing and looks up at the open fridge, it’s filled with cups of soda, other take-out boxes, and an assortment of old foods.

  “You know, we talked about throwing out old food.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “I am not wasting food just because other people can’t eat food that’s a day over its expiration.” Steven says hoarsely.

  “I’m pretty sure there’s plenty of food there that’s a few months past its expiration date. I’ll make you a deal: you clean up this week what you can or eat what you can, and I’ll clean it out next week. But no fighting me, what do you say?”

  Steven glares at Scott for a moment, then goes back to finding a spot for his container in his already over-stuffed fridge.

  “I hate what they’ve done to your mom's house…” Steven says still searching for the right spot in the fridge.

  “You mean the bird bath?”

  “Every morning, I just hear them chirping away; it keeps me awake! Especially during my naps!” Steven finally closes the fridge and slowly walks back to his chair, gingerly lowering himself into it.

  “Mom would have loved it. She always liked having birds in the house. I remember she tried to buy you one to keep you company, you said it ‘escaped’. I still don’t believe you.” Scott chuckles. He grabs a broom from the closet and begins sweeping up the kitchen and dining room floors.

  “She was the best neighbor, though. Mindful of people's time. I miss those chocolate chip cookies she would always bake.”

  “Yeah. I miss her too. She wouldn’t have wanted you to stay so bitter, you know? It’s why she always came around, even though you always tried to chase her off.”

  Steven stares out the window and sighs. Scott stops sweeping and peeks over his shoulder at him.

  “I’m sorry. I know you don’t have to do this. And I know you’re really doing it to honor your mother, taking care of me, I mean. But I don’t deserve to be taken care of.”

  Scott stops sweeping. After a beat, he finally says.

  “Nobody should have to feel alone. She taught me that, unconsciously or not.”

  A silence hangs in the air between them. Almost as if they’re both reminiscing.

  “Besides, I’ve grown to like you. Even though you can be a pain in my ass.” He grins, his eyes a little shinier than they were a minute ago.

  Steven doesn’t look at him.

  “I ate another peanut butter and chicken salad sandwich last night.”

  “Jesus, Steven. Then you wonder why people worry about you.”

  Just outside the window, a figure watches the scene play out, in a place between shadow and light, unnoticed to the casual glance. Inside, Scott and Steven share dinner, trading stories about the neighborhood, about his mother. Their voices drift through the glass, muffled, like an old TV left on in the next room.

  The figure watches, stone-faced. But behind his eyes, something flickers. Regret. Or maybe—hope.

  He speaks into the quiet.

  “She would be proud of you, kid.”

  He lingers until the sun begins to set, and the last light slides off his face.

  “You’re almost ready…”

  Then, without a sound, he’s swallowed by shadow.