Life and Death {Enoch O'Connor}

14

While Enoch was generally considered the outcast of his neighborhood, Mr. Morrison was the exception. He never seemed bothered by Enoch's dark aura or his family's occupation. He acted as if living next to undertakers was just as normal as having a dog for a pet. He gladly struck up conversations with Enoch's parents about their work and how their business was faring. 

Enoch never felt judged by Mr. Morrison, who always made an effort to give him a smile and a wave if he saw Enoch passing by. As Enoch grew up and Mr. Morrison grew older, Enoch would often help out his neighbor. Mostly, helping Mr. Morrison consisted of moving the lawn and watering the flowers in his front garden. Usually, after he was finished, Mr. Morrison would invite him inside. They'd take a seat in the musty old floral lounge chairs by the fireplace for a chat. Mr. Morrison would offer him a cup of tea and a biscuit, which Enoch would gladly accept after the laborious chores.

It wasn't too hot on the early September day but Enoch had still broken a sweat after spending over an hour trimming the grass in Mr. Morrison's back garden. The spiral of blades spun as he pushed the mower back towards the old tool shed where it would rest until the next time the grass started to look a bit too shaggy. Enoch brushed his sore hands on his trousers and used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. He often wished that Mr. Morrison owned one of the newfangled gas-powered lawn mowers instead of the old rusted push mower; it would certainly speed up his job. 

Enoch approached Mr. Morrison's back door, raising his fist to knock, but it swung open before he could even get the chance. 

"Wonderful job again, Enoch. Please, come in," Mr. Morrison allowed him inside and Enoch followed him to the lounge where the two steaming cups of tea were already waiting. He took his usual place in the old floral lounge chair across from Mr. Morrison and happily accepted the hot cup of tea, although he was still hot and sweaty from the hard work outside. 

As he sipped the warm drink, he gazed around the room. The lounge was cozy but certainly showed its age, the upholstery on the sofas old and warn, faded wallpaper and carpeting, and everything covered in a thin layer of dust. Enoch doubted much had changed since Mr. Morrison had moved in with his wife soon after they were married. 

Enoch recalled the first time he visited Mr. Morrison's. It was two summers previous when he was 11 years old. Enoch was in his room reading a book, perfectly content with spending the hot day in the comfort of his home when his dad burst in the room.

"Enoch, it's a beautiful day outside, what are you doing just sitting in the dark?" His dad said without even a greeting. He marched over to the window, pushing the curtains aside and throwing open the shutters to let in the sunlight.

"I'm trying to read," Enochs scowled, blinking in the bright light.

"Why don't you go out and play instead of wasting the day inside?" His dad said. "You've been looking so pale lately. You need some sun."

Enoch rolled his eyes, just wanting to go back to his book, "I go outside all the time," He insisted, leaving out the details of spending most of the time in the shadowed forest.

His father wasn't taking no for an answer, pressing his hand on Enoch's back to push him up to his feet, "I've got a great idea!" His dad exclaimed, as if it was a new revelation, although he'd probably thought of it earlier that day. "Mr. Morrison's back garden has been looking a little rough lately. Why don't you go over and offer to mow the grass? He could certainly use the help and maybe he'll even give you a couple of pennies for your work."

Enoch grumbled but soon found himself next door standing outside of Mr. Morrison's front door, his dad's hand resting on his shoulder. Enoch fidgeted with one of the buttons on his shirt, nervous to knock on the door. He practiced what he would say when Mr. Morrison answered the door.