House Sitter

The Cat

The compost bin was now stuffed with bird corpses. I wrote "NO VACANCY" on a post-it note and stuck it to the side of the bin. The sight of the little yellow note made me giggle a little, then more, then a full-throated, braying laugh. I doubled over to rest my hand on the dryer, then fell back onto my ass, laughter peeling out of me in great, halting waves, tears pouring down my cheeks which burned with effort. The back of my neck, where my skull met my spine, started to ache from the laughter, and my cheeks hurt where I had been grinding them into the unfinished concrete floor of the basement. I clutched my belly with one hand and smacked the floor with the other, making the flesh of my palm red and raw. I tried to breathe through it, I tried to talk myself out of it with weak little "ok, ok"s, but nothing could stop me - I had tumbled over a waterfall of laughter. I tried to stand up and grabbed onto a small metal rod to pull myself up. The rod was holding up the little wooden shelf the compost bucket was sitting on, and the shelf crashed down onto me, the corner of the shelf splitting my nose with a blinding crash.

I fell back down clutching at my nose, blood pouring out from between my fingers, and screamed "FUCK" into the concrete floor. I sat back onto my butt to get the bleeding under control and saw I was now surrounded by the dead birds which had tumbled out of the bucket. Among them, a yellow post-it labelled "NO VACANCY."

***

In two nights I was to see my wife for the first time since she'd moved out and now I had a giant bandage across the bridge of my nose and two black eyes. I sure was going to look like a responsible, worthy husband now. I spent a lot of time staring at my ruined face in the mirror, surprised I could hate myself even more than I did before. Before the accident, I couldn't bear to look at myself at all, so I guess this was progress. My glasses had bent in the fall, too, and I had to wear my backup pair - big, black-framed Buddy Holly specs that magnified the purple bruises under my eyes.

I decided I wasn't in the mood to cook so I ordered a pizza and sat down on the couch to wait for it. The couch was littered with old chip bags and beer cans that I swept off onto the rainbow striped circular carpet. I felt a sting of regret at that, but I was in a bad mood and anyway I could clean it up later.

My phone rested heavy in my hand, unbuzzing and unlit. She hadn't texted again since we'd made plans to see each other. I thought often of texting her, little things I thought she'd find funny or interesting, but I had restrained myself - a victory. I forgot to turn the TV on and sat on the couch staring at the nexus of the rainbow carpet, watching the colours swirl and mix, thinking about her and me and being alone together.

A knock at the door. Startled, I looked out the window and saw it was noticeably darker. I must have really zoned out. To get to the front door, I had to kick aside empty pizza boxes and black garbage bags full to bursting. I opened the door just enough to peek my head out to greet the driver.

"Hey man," The delivery guy said, cheerful, as he bent down to take the pizza out of the big insulated bag

"Hi." I managed - couldn't this asshole see I didn't want to talk to anyone?

He handed me the box and he did a double-take.

"Oh, hey! I know you!" He beamed.

I knew him too, a friend of my wife's from school. Ricky, maybe?

"Ah, I don't think so, man," I said, retreating back inside.

Ricky put his hand on the door, preventing me from closing it. He leaned in, his breath smelled like raspberry vape juice.

"Yeah, I do, you're Claire's husband. I'm Rick, I went to school with Claire."

"Cool man, nice to see you," I tried, trying to get away, "Thanks for the pizza."