Apartments
by John Riley
The woman who lives alone on the first floor had loved dancing naked for her lovers. Now she is well acquainted with long sunny afternoons and the winter days that never turn from gray. The girl who lives in the apartment above never sings when her lover visits but when she is alone she sings songs in a language the woman does not understand with a voice that clings to its lightness. When he leaves in the morning the girl's lover hurries down the stairs and after the woman hears the door of the old apartment building bang shut she stops her daily chores and sits at her dining table with two chairs and waits for the girl to sing.
The young girl who does not know the woman who lives below cannot remember when she last loved her lover. She remembers the nights they made love and how afterward he fell asleep. She watched him sleep and smiled at the way his girlish lips made a pout as his deep breaths blew in and out. She knew he was dreaming and would not remember the dream the next day. She can remember those nights but cannot remember loving him and now when he sleeps she reads through the night and thinks there is nothing so selfish as sleep.
While the young girl reads the woman below lies in her bed. She is old now and will soon die and sleep is no longer necessary. She once tried to remember what it was like to not be alone but now she knows that even when she had lovers and loved them the way she thinks the young girl above loves hers she had remained alone. The old woman wishes the young girl knew what she knows. She wishes the young girl would sing at night while her lover sleeps.
Heavy, yes. Lonely, definitely. Yet lovely too: "She watched him sleep and smiled at the way his girlish lips made a pout as his deep breaths blew in and out." *
Really beautiful. Sad but charming. "*"
Thanks, Emily and Kyle. I've been unsure about this one.
*
Gotta wonder sometimes why it's called "love." *
I especially like way in which you depersonalize sleep here--that it is "no longer necessary" instead of the usual "eternal sleep" theme that pervades death narratives.*
Dancing, death and singing. What else is there in life? *
Only connect.
Delicate and haunting, wonderfully written. The best take on sleep and stages of life I've read in a long time. Maybe the best. 'Nothing so selfish as sleep', but aging makes it unnecessary. In her sleeplessness, the old woman longs to connect with what could be a younger self. Dancing and singing as counterpoints to sleep and death. The longing and aloneness are pervasive, and stay with the reader. Definitely a favorite. *
*, John. What a superb story. What a close:
"She wishes the young girl would sing at night while her lover slept"
love the melancholy tone and also picturing these people above and below each other *
Well done, John. Achingly familiar.*
Curious if you've read Cliff Garstang's "What the Zhang Boys Know," a novel of stories of people set in the same apartment building.
Thanks everyone for the nice comments. I held this back for a long time and it's gratifying to read these comments.
I don't know that book, Gary. I think I've heard of it but haven't read it. Thanks for the recommendation.
I think it's beautiful, John. I love the rhythm you establish and maintain. It enhances the feel of this sad story.
Thanks, Kathy. That's great.
My favorite thing about your writing is the poetry in your prose. Lush, gorgeous, true writing. Thanks John. ***
Sad but marvelous. Well-written piece.
From start to finish, I loved this ***
Thanks Joani, Sam and Foster. I'm glad it hit the spot.
It is a story of two women and creates pronoun challenges, invisible to the eye of the reader. It is a story of living in the same building and not meeting. *
Thanks, Ann. I wanted the pronouns to blur just a bit around the edges. Thanks for noticing that.
Sweet and lonely.
Thanks, Steven
Heavy can be good. This is good.
Thanks, James.
I suggest writing a whole book of short stories called Apartments with this story as the first one. The idea is that good.
Interesting idea, Samuel. Maybe.