Cleaning up

   When he finished cleaning the place up, he lit up a cigarette and decided to take a nice deserved break. He did need to go and throw all that was still stained with blood, but he knew he had time to do it in a moment. After all, the crime was already solved and everyone involved had gotten some kind of closure after such a horrible event. So, he cleaned the murder scene and allowed the owners of the property to sell the house or at least attempt a sale. It was always difficult to pass such a property on to someone else, but it was feasible and people knew they had to try and do it in order to move on and close their wounds.

 Fred was the guy police hired to do the cleaning up. He was very well known for being the first one to offer a top-notch service, never denying a service, no matter how horrible the murder scene was. He was known to have cleaned a whole room splashed with brain and skull fragments after a bunch of people from a suicidal cult had decided to shoot themselves before the police could get them for selling child pornography. He did it all by himself, using many types of liquids and concoctions to properly remove the traces of blood and other body fluids, as well as the foul stench of death that could really linger for a long time.

 He was also known for working by himself. Many people always worried about him not been able to do it in the time they wanted him to do it, but he always did the work in the time they had agreed on and he even noticed construction or design flaws that other experts could fix on a house. Fred even saved some precious objects from destruction, by taking care of them, always thinking that every family would love to keep something from the person that had left them, if it had happened in their house. And if it hadn’t, he was always very good at finding evidence that could have been ignored at first sight.

 Besides all of that, the man was cheaper than the competition and his clients really loved that part of his business. Of course, his main employer was the police department, but even them had to use other services sometimes, in order not to look as if they had a preference for him of any kind. He understood that very well and just kept working on other crime scenes and also fixing houses that needed his attention, although he really liked working after something horrible had happened somewhere, because he felt he could help bringing that place into a better place, he could even make people feel better and less afraid.

 When he finished smoking, he pressed the cigarette against a plank of wood and then threw it into one of his garbage bags. He put in the piece of wood to and walked down the stairs to put it all in his car. The afternoon was almost over and he needed to get to the landfill before they closed. He could sell some of the things he had found in the room he had cleaned for good money, things that a family would not like to save but that he could take advantage of.

 He was able to get there just in time and, after selling some objects to the operator, Fred went back to his place: it was a tiny apartment above a pizzeria, near downtown. The place was old and rather unpleasant if one considers the smell of anchovies, but he got used to it. Besides, he didn’t really need that much room to live, as he lived by himself. The only other living being in his apartment was a cat called Pineapple. He was fat, had yellowish fur and the hairs on his head seemed to always be working independently from the rest of his body. So, the name had been chosen perfectly, the moment Fred had met him in a crime scene.

 He suspected he had been owned by a girl who had been killed with his parents by a burglar, but he didn’t know for sure. He asked the police if he could keep the cat and no one seem to mind. From that moment on, the cat was named Pineapple and it often sat by the window, looking at the fishery on the other side of the street. The funny thing was that he could actually go there and eat it if he wanted, but he never left the apartment. He was just one of those creatures that one never understands, no matter how long you try to make sense out of its existence. A very human animal, in that sense.

 Fred had never married and had never felt the urge of having children. He did like women and he did like children but all of that didn’t really fit with his work and his work was the one thing that actually made him feel good. He had discovered the job later in life, after been fired from his workplace and then wondering around for years, from one menial job to the other, lasting six months at most in each one of those assignments. His parents never approved of his lifestyle and they eventually stopped talking to him in a frequent basis, deciding to only contact him during the holidays or when they felt it was necessary.

 The last time he had talked to them was when his grandmother Libby had died from old age. Libby was one of those adorable older women, the kind who love to be pampered but also enjoy saving parts of their old lives all around their house. He was the one in charge of cleaning up her house, before it was put for sale in order for his parents and her other children to profit from it. He felt awful helping them doing that to her, but it wasn’t as if he had a choice. They didn’t listen, they just said things to him and he was expected to comply. He tried to rebel against that but decided not to try ever again, as it never led anywhere.

 He found Pineapple’s bowl there, as she had owned several cats herself but they had all died because she overfed them. He did find a couple of dead cats around the house, but they had died such a long time ago that the smell was not a problem. He also kept a nice picture of her and his grandfather and also a beautiful pair of shoes she had kept in a secret storage section of the house, that no one had ever noticed before he cleaned up the place. He also found some of her secret savings and a couple of jewelry items he could sell at any price.

 But he never did. He thought it was all too precious and selling it would devaluate everything. So, he kept the shoes and the jewelry in his closet and put all the money he found into a bank account that he promised himself only to use if his financial problems ever got as the ones in his past. But thanks to his cleaning business, that was almost impossible. It wasn’t that he was rich or anything of the sort, but he had always been very careful with money, despite being horribly unlucky when trying to find employment. He was one of those people that really only need money to live but they find no actual joy in having any.

 His flat was very modest, his cat was second-hand and clothes had never been a concern of his. His loves were doing his job and walking around beautiful parts of the country, in those moments he allowed himself to go on vacation and enjoy himself a little bit. Fred did feel a bit sad to realize that he didn’t really have anyone to share those experiences with, but understood that not every single person in the world was meant to be in a relationship. It was one of many things he had learned in the cleaning business and working with deceased people.

 Everyone makes such a fuss about life and death and about what you own and who you share it with and so on and Fred found all of that to be utter stupidity. He just wanted to feel that he could accomplish something, no matter how small, and that was it. He didn’t need to fill his life with a bunch of things that he didn’t really need it. He even tried finding new hobbies and passions and it did work, with some things, but it he was always back to work on time and he always very attentive of his tiny apartment and his cat. The top priorities never changed and some people thought that indicated that he was sad or depressed.

 And, although he did feel a bit lonely sometimes, he enjoyed his life thoroughly. He didn’t care for having more or changing something from what he knew. He felt great about it and had realized that he didn’t need any more from life. He didn’t even understand why some people demanded so much just because. He had his things, his little joys, and that was enough for a man like Fred.

Changing lives

   Thomas had gotten used to working out almost every waking hour of the day. He would wake up very early in the morning, sometimes at five in the morning, in order to get dressed up fast, hop onto his wheelchair and then drive directly to the gym. He would help the owner open up shop and then he would spent the whole day in there, resting only once to have lunch in the gym’s cafeteria and sometimes to drink some water and other drinks he ingested in order to have proper level of vitamins and all of those.

 He had been invested in growing his strength since he had came back from his service overseas. He had lost one leg and had been in treatment for his other one for a long time. Actually, the only times he spent out of the gym or his house would be spent in the hospital, in his treatment. He would have some physical therapy and then receive several shots that would help his body deal with all the scars and, especially, with the psychological consequences of everything that had happened in the desert.

 In his team, he hadn’t been a leader or someone too important. He was just one of the guys, trying to realize the mission that had been entrusted to them. They had to patrol small towns and suburbs looking for terrorists, for people attempting to use their dwindling power to hurt a bunch of invaders. He had told those exact words to his psychiatrist, telling her that he understood how damaging their existence there was but that he was younger somehow, even when it had happened only a few months before.

 Thomas was a bit resentful of the full thing, having no intention of going back or of wanting to contact the other guys that had participated in the war with him. Even watching pictures he had taken there was awful, hurting his head and his insides. He even burned some of them, but his wife prevented him from doing it with the whole lot. She hid everything in a box, far from his reach in order to preserver things she thought he would need in the future. She thought she knew what was best for him.

But in reality, she had no idea. What he wanted was to build himself up again, to be strong and fit in order for the world not to be able to destroy him. When his foot blew up, he felt he was made of clay or something like that. He felt like something and not someone, like one little piece in a large game that didn’t care about people like him. And he didn’t want to be just that, he had grown fed up of the whole soldier life, only entering it because he needed the money they paid to help his family out. But he had other dreams, before all of that. Not anymore though.

 Everyone person that went to that gym had grown to know Thomas in one-way or the other. They all knew he was the guy without one foot but also as the guy that could spend almost two hours in the same weight station. It was amazing to see him sweat but not care too much about it, going on and on. Many asked him for advice and he would give it to them but he was always clear about not letting them getting too close. He didn’t want any friends or anything of the sort. He didn’t want to compromise at all.

 That’s why his relationship with his wife had grown sour and stale. They didn’t have sex anymore and she claimed it wasn’t because of his accident but he felt that wasn’t the case. However, he was honest with himself and he knew he had relinquished any need for sexual relationships.  He had no interest in them, even if his penis proved to be working still. His doctors had assured him he could have children if he wanted to, but the truth was that he had no intention to have any kids.

 He wasn’t interested in living the life they had always wanted for him. His family, his wife, his friends in his soldier team and everyone else thought that knew what he needed in his life, what he had to and how he had to do it. And he had done exactly that for a long time, accepting the life he had been almost forced to live. But now he felt free somehow, he felt that by losing a part of himself, he had allowed real freedom to enter his life. It finally felt like he had a reason to live and not just go by.

 One day, his wife finally exploded in a fit of rage. She broke some plates and threw the box filled with his pictures and medals to his face. She yelled and demanded some action from him, something to tell her he was still the same man she had married. But the truth was that he wasn’t and he told her exactly that. He also said that he would be picking up his things and that he would be happy to sign any papers she wanted him to sign. He wheeled himself out of the house and then left for the gym.

 That night, he went back home to find it empty. She had probably left for her mother’s house or something. He stood up from the chair and decided right then and there that he didn’t need it anymore. He would get some crutches and then a prosthesis for his disappeared foot. He didn’t wanted to stay as a cripple, he needed to take the freedom he had been granted and use it to make whatever he wanted in life with it. He put all of his things on a few boxes, carried them to the car and then drove right into a motel to sleep for the night. It was the best night sleep he had in a long time.

 A few weeks later, he signed the papers his former wife’s lawyer had for him in his office. He was using the crutches then and had already sign up to get a prosthetic foot. It was going to cost a lot but him being a retiree from the army would get him some kind of discount. He was happy that day, celebrating the whole thing with one of his only friends, the owner of the gym. He was already thinking of getting a job, when his friend told him he would be welcome to work as a trainer in the gym. Thomas accepted in a heartbeat.

 He eventually got a nice little house, he was enjoying himself a lot at work and was even open to having new friends and maybe even a romantic relationship. He had built his body to be the one he wanted and now he was doing all he could to be the guy he had always wanted to be as desires and wishes go. He was finally himself and that made him smile from time to time, especially at those times he was alone and he remembered everything that had happened in his life and how much could still happen.

 Thomas was eager for more.

Memories with sauce

   As the water began to bowl, I opened the pasta packet and dropped it all inside. I was eating alone, but I felt hungry and also felt like not having to excuse myself if I wanted to eat a bit more than usual. I turned to the fridge and grabbed my favorite pasta sauce. I would mix it with vegetables and cheese, in order to turn my meal into a needed relaxing time. I really needed to stop thinking about all the things around me and just, for once, enjoy myself having a nice plate of hot and hearty food.

 The pasta softened fast and my sauce started boiling in no time as well. I had chopped onions, peppers, carrots and mushrooms, as well as a big eggplant that I had found in my fridge and didn’t remember buying at the store. It all went into the sauce and I decided to wait for everything to be just perfect. I grabbed my phone, and browsed through happy pictures of people, some traveling and some others with their children and getting married or celebrating something with, apparently, thousands of people somewhere nice.

 I rarely had any time to go on holidays, so I always wondered how the hell they did it, how was it that they earned a very decent living and, at the same time, had so much time to do nothing. Getting a job had taken me forever and it was not now that I would attempt to lose it only to go frolicking in the waves of some beach in an Asian country. I sure was jealous of what they had, but not at every single moment of my life. It was just when I browsed those stupid pictures and also when I felt not so high on myself.

 The pasta had to be ready then. I grabbed my plastic strainer and took all the water out from it. When it was good and dry, I put it back into the pot. No moment left to think, I grabbed the other pot with the sauce and pour it all over my pasta. Looking at those delicious chunks of deliciousness was enough to make me feel very happy again. I forgot about the stupid pictures I had seen and decided to only dedicate the rest of that day to the delicious food I was making and also going to eat.

 I stir it all good and even put on some butter on it, in order for the pasta not to stick to anything too much. As I moved my food around, the smell of it all reminded me of better times or at least easier ones. I remembered the food that was served to me in the cafeteria, at school. I especially remembered taco day. The tacos were not even that good but the rush of having such an uncommon food in school was enough to make me feel happy. It even made the food taste so much better. I would ask the lady for more and more, until she had to tell me that others also wanted to eat tacos.

 Fat was something I never really was but I did get a bit chunky in high school. I think it was because I would rather completely avoid any physical exercise. I ate like any kid does at that age, tacos were an exception. What I really hated was physical education and how the teachers were always so happy and positive in those courses. It was really unnerving how fucking happy they were to play anything or to make us run around the whole school. It was almost like some sort of boot camp, at least in their minds.

 As I served myself a big bowl of pasta, I realized I was smiling from ear to ear. Apparently, remembering school was causing me some kind of pleasure, which was very strange because I didn’t really have any nice memories from that time in my life. I was a very average student, I even had to do one year all over again. Making friends seemed like the world’s hardest task and I also felt it was just futile because I kept failing horribly when trying to get to know people, and kids are tough as nails when they want to be.

 I smiled though. I sat down on my two-seat dinner table and turned on the TV in order to feel some company in the apartment. It was one of those things most lonely people do in order not to feel they are going completely insane. I left it on some animal channel, were dogs seemed to be misbehaving and a man was trying to get them to be nicer. I didn’t pay much attention to it, preferring to get back to my teenage years and explain to myself why I had been smiling before. The answer was pretty simple.

 As strange as it may be, I realized I really liked myself back then. What I mean is that I love how I did some things in that time. Sometimes we recall are youth and have second thoughts about everything, but I had just realized I didn’t or at least not about that whole segment in my life. I loved that I had the balls to just not go to some of my PE classes, I’m glad I stood my ground and just pretended to go to the bathroom and instead sitting down on the library in order to enjoy myself in a more personal way.

 Yes, the teachers caught a couple of times and I got in trouble with my parents because of that but it was worth it. Because I was building myself, I was building this man and everything could have been different if I had forced myself to do the things I didn’t want to do. Some people don’t understand that doing things that you don’t like is only good when it makes sense and not when the only thinks that it causes is that just start disappearing, you stop being yourself and instead you become this copy, a bad one probably, of some else who’s not even that interesting to begin with.

 The dog show has ended and now it’s a cat show. Every single piece of vegetable in the sauce is just right, beautifully seasoned and with a taste that would make any Italian mother and grandmother proud. It fills my heart and my soul that I had the good idea to make something that delicious in a moment when I really needed to feel comforted. It cannot be all about responsibilities in life; we have to learn how to have fun and how to make ourselves feel good when we need to. That’s the only way we can survive.

 The only really bad thing about those times and my life in general, is that I never really had what it took to make friends or get to know people properly. Sure, I did call some people friends during high school and also in college. Even now, I call some of the people I work with “friends”. But I know the word is probably too big for our relationships. I know that friendships are built of much stronger materials and that they should at least last for a couple of years in order to be considered real friendships.

 So, in that sense, the amount of friends I have is alarmingly low. And again, I put the blame on me. I lack what it takes to be a really good friend and I have to confess I don’t really know what it is that makes you that. Even in high school, I failed horribly at trying to make connections with people. Sure, I had “friends” but once we parted ways after college started, people disappeared in seconds because we stopped having something in common. Only being in school made us feel similar and much more is needed.

 I think that is my only regret, not trying hard enough to be a better friend or just trying to figure out what people look for when they are looking for a friend. Well, for starters I guess people don’t really “look for” friends, they just happen to get some as any normal human being. Damn, I guess most people don’t put so much pressure on the whole business to start with. But, again, if I didn’t think too much about things, I just wouldn’t be me. And what would be the point then, if it’s not the real me looking for those friends?

 The past filled my soul and body. I learned the recipe from my mom and I thanked her for that later that day. But after eating, I sat there at the dinner table, thinking about my memories from school. The people I had hated for being so easy going, the likely friendships lost because of that.

 I grabbed my cellphone and look around some of the apps. I finally found the name I was looking for and started texting with him. After a few minutes, I asked if he could come by my house or if he wanted to have a drink. No idea if a friendship is possible there but at least I’m willing to try.