The laugh track filled the room, much like the cold sunlight that filtered through the lace curtains, brightening enough to paper over the mood in the house. He lived quietly enough in the bachelor pad that was now his forever home, puttering about the house, moving from room to room as though in search of something he had forgotten, thinking that if he meandered about, it might come to him in a flash and light upon his mind. It might happened, had he done so, but he did not, firmly still situated in his favorite spot, thinking about rubbing his left butt cheek, a bit numb from having sat there since 9 a.m. It was now 11:30, and the quiet gnawing in his stomach had grown loud enough that it could no longer be ignored.
He ran his fingers through Levi’s short fur. It was stiff, the bristly bits poking into the tips of his fingers, yet paradoxically, also soft. The hound rested his lower jaw on the tops of his paws, lightly dozing as the host of “Laugh-In” told another era-relevant joke. Paul had to admit, he didn’t always quite understand what, contextually, the show was always referring to, but it made him feel better, to watch old shows from his childhood, or his parents era. It brought to mind simpler things, kept things light. He had taken his two Lexapro, his happy little buddies, as he thought of them, and they helped events in his life continue to be upbeat and light, especially when things had not been. Paul turned his attention back to the screen. A pretty blonde was gyrating with a hula hoop as a miniature poodle with a French cut balanced on its hind legs to the upbeat music. The thought of being in that studio audience, of being part of that crowd, laughing, taking it in, made him smile. It was so easy, so nice.
So nice.
Levi snored and his own stomach grumbled, reminding him that lunch time was upon them. With a little more than a grunt, he pushed himself out of the couch, mildly ignoring how flat the cushion had become. He’d get to it some other time. Trundling from the living room round the corner to the kitchen, he opened the door and peered inside. There sat the remains of a half gallon of skim milk. The cheerful yellow light illuminated the half empty fridge, and he busied himself with some bread, deli ham, and a little Swiss cheese remaining in the zippered pouch.
Bustling about with the mayonnaise, he caught sight of the happy family of his daughter and her two kids, her husband’s arm wrapped around her, their smiles bright from ear to ear in the photo Christmas card. It had been mailed, unfussily delivered, just the picture stuffed into an envelope. They were cute kids, the boy dressed in green flannel, the girl in a green corduroy jumper, two pigtails neatly divided on each side of her head. He loved those little scamps. He wished his daughter would send more photos; he loved looking at their adventures, the joy and excitement in their tiny faces. She’d asked him to come spend the night a few weeks ago, to look after the tykes, but he’d put his foot down, the same as he had with her brother.
He wasn’t looking after any children. He’d already done his time in looking after his own children. They were more than capable of managing their affairs themselves, and he was busy enjoying his retirement. Well, when his house wasn’t falling apart.
He whistled to himself as he wandered back to the living room, and sat down with a heavy plop onto the worn green suede, covered over with the blanket that his pup loved so much. He enjoyed the quiet with Levi, working on little projects. No, going up to see his daughter or his son was quite the trip, and the effort and planning it took drained him. Paul didn’t enjoy taking the time from his retirement trying to figure out where to kennel Levi, plotting the precise day and time and set of roads to avoid traffic just to see the kids for a few hours. He felt the familiar tick in the side of his temple as he worked to focus on the new variety act, four singing brothers doing “Annie Laurie” in barbershop style, their Adam’s apples undulating, their hair shining with pomade, forty years before, shellacked and smooth and perfect. It was a heavy weight pressing on his chest, the idea of gassing up the car and navigating through two hours of traffic—let alone Lord know what weather conditions he might run into—to get to their house.
At his granddaughter’s last birthday party, he’d hung back, watching with nervous cheer, as the kids bounced around. He’d been terribly uncomfortable, thinking about Levi, alone and crying back at the house, possibly tearing something up that he’d have to figure out how to repair himself or scrounge up more than a few dollars to replace. He’d had trouble finding good angles to snap candid, quiet shots of Leila opening her presents, having to awkwardly insert his hand or arm here. It was interesting how everything moved around, past him; Paul distantly registered how he had felt still and separate as people and party-goers had been a blur of color and energy. Paul let the thought slip by and refocused his energy on the screen, feeling the side of his mouth pull back in laughter.
The brothers had finished their set and a comedy routine, a duo of a dancer and a mannequin, filled the screen with their acrobatic antics.
“This guy is just hilarious. Isn’t he the best Levi? He’s so clever what he does with the doll and his coat.” Paul chortled into his sandwich, a glob of mayonnaise landing on the bulging part of his belly.
“Dangit.” He wiped it off and on the edge of his plate, momentarily inspecting his shirt. It was the same one, incidentally, that he’d worn to Leila’s birthday. The uncomfortable pressure of something he couldn’t name pushed on his mind again. No. Getting up there was really to much of them to ask him. He was retired. Didn’t they understand the meaning of that word?
Well, they didn’t. They couldn’t. They were young and still excited about the onerous tasks of schlepping kids around to sports games, plotting out routes to the amusement park. He was glad to be out of the child-rearing phase. His ex, who should have been far better suited to such things, was out in Florida with her new husband. Flights back had been too expensive, but she’d been able to shell out for one of those drivable electronic children’s cars.
He snorted, scratching Levi as he stood up to go and change his shirt.
No, he was happy here with his dog in his retirement. It was what he had always wanted, and he liked it the way it was.
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