The Body

I’m such a pig. My office is a pit. It’s behind our house in the garage we converted for me. There’s papers and books all over the floor. The desk and the two tables are piled with papers and books and CDs and covers, newspaper articles and magazines, cat toys, knickknacks, paper clips, printer ink, rubber bands, bike leg things, pens, pencils, old mail, stuff. I can’t remember the last time I dusted or vacuumed or put anything away.

The blanket that covers the couch is on the floor. There’s boxes of books supposedly on their way out.  The computer is up on a box and there’s unplugged cords. I have no idea where they go.  When the pandemic started, I thought, OK, now I’m finally going to clean this up, but I couldn’t.  Then when I retired, I thought, Now, now really is the time, but I simply could not.

The cat can always find someplace. Like a spot by the window where there’s some sun. Or on the back of the couch behind me. But sometimes she goes somewhere I can’t find her.

The other day I thought I found an old shoe of mine but when I started moving the papers away to get to it, it was two and they were attached to socks and jeans and a sweatshirt. It was a body.

Hello, I said, hello? 

It was white, I think, and old. It was hard to tell.  I touched it. It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t exactly cold. More like something you took out of the refrigerator to warm up a while ago, but also something else, like if I touched it hard enough, it would turn to dust inside the jeans but it didn’t.

Hello, I said again, Hello?

Its eyes were closed.

Was it asleep? Was it alive? I didn’t want to disturb it so I got the blanket from the couch and tucked it around its shoulders and back and hair but not its face in case she wanted to breathe.

I called the cat, Come here, kitty, kitty, and made that noise the way you do. The cat came over and sniffed it a little then walked away.

This was so different from that time when she found the baby squirrel in my office and batted and chased it around. I rescued the squirrel from her and raised her until she was old enough to leave.  I really loved that little thing.

She was lying between a bookshelf and my bike, and behind a couple of boxes. Useless stuff. Well, not the bike.  You might get a couple hundred bucks for that.

There was light gray or beige stuff on her clothes and skin. Was it dust? How long has it been here?

There wasn’t a smell, like anything gross or organic. Maybe something somehow oddly clean. A smell of stillness.

Her hair was a mess, but nothing worse than bed head. I thought I should clean her glasses though. They’d fallen off her face and were halfway open. I picked them up very carefully and went and got the glasses cleaner I keep on my desk. That’s one thing I know where it is. I sprayed on the spray and wiped them with them cloth and took them back and laid them down carefully closed so she could see them if she woke up.

I’m tired, I heard.  I’m tired.

I didn’t see her move her mouth, but I thought she was saying it.

I’m tired. I’m tired. I’m tired.

Her eyes stayed closed.

Did anything move?

I got down beside her to wait.