Static

Black and white. He couldn’t believe his luck. All he wanted to do was enjoy the Saturday morning news with his usual cup of steaming coffee. But of course, the telly wasn’t working. The black and white static mocked him while he fiddled with the remote, the knobs; unplugging it didn’t work, and neither did thumping on it. He glanced out of the window. It was a clear, blue-skied morning, and he had paid his bills. Maybe the universe was conspiring against him.

A 66-year-old veteran, Jackson Hughes knew his way around guns and war, but not around a television. He disliked leaving these 1000 square feet he called home and so the television was one his few sources of connection to the outside world. It was almost like having friends, but he could decide when they came, and what they would talk about. He couldn’t imagine getting through the next 48 hours without his friends. 

Jackson heaved a sigh as he hunted around for the phone number of his cable guy. It seemed he waited an eternity to hear a human voice. When he finally spoke to “Angie” from the technical department, he was informed that they didn’t have technicians available until Monday. Monday! How was he supposed to get through the rest of the weekend without the television? “Angie” with her non “Angie” like accent didn’t have much to offer in the form of response. He hung up on her reassurances while he pondered what to do next. 

His gaze kept wandering towards the door. It was quite early on a Saturday but maybe they were awake. That immigrant family. Jackson did not consider himself a discriminating sort of fellow. He just knew what he knew, because he saw what he saw. And while he didn’t believe all that he saw on the news, like his Pops used to say, “There ain’t smoke, without a little fire”. He had been part of the Canadian Armed Forces during the Persian Gulf War. He had seen what those people could do. When the Naqvi family had initially moved in next door, he hadn’t been able to sleep at night. Their name had appeared on the mailbox next to his and that first week he had gone from rarely leaving his home, to never leaving it. The only reason he had left his apartment was to check the mail. The thought of an overflowing mailbox being accessible to the new neighbors had been scarier than having to talk to one of them. 

About 2 weeks after he had watched the moving truck drive away, they had knocked on his door. As was his habit he had scuffled to the door and looked through the peephole before opening it. They had given up after knocking a couple more times. Mr. and Mrs. Naqvi, he had presumed, as he had watched their tan profiles turn away from the door. He had hoped to never encounter them, but that was not to be. The following morning, he ran into Mr. Naqvi while checking the mail. While Jackson nodded a greeting, he had started a steady stream of chatter about being new to the city, his job, his wife, his three children. Jackson hadn’t heard much of it in his haste to collect the mail and avoid further familiarities. But he was quite sure he had heard “engineer” somewhere in there, and he had seemed harmless enough; he didn’t even have an accent. 

He hadn’t been accosted by them since, but he needed his television fixed. Before he could change his mind, he was reaching for his cane. He grabbed his keys and shuffled in his slippered feet to the door of 351. 

She couldn’t believe her luck. Sabine Naqvi stood by the stove musing over the ruination of her weekend. Elyas had been called into work. It was never easy being the wife of a police officer. But when he got called in outside of his normal hours, it somehow amplified all the worst aspects of his job. She heaved a sigh and added the steaming milk to her mug. The kids were with her parents so she had been looking forward to a quiet weekend with her husband. Unfortunately, it was not to be. 

Sabine had barely taken a seat at the kitchen table with her breakfast for one when she heard the hesitant knock at the apartment door. In the few seconds it took her to get from the kitchen to the door she had already convinced herself that Elyas had been sent home early and had forgotten his keys. In her excitement, she didn’t even think to check the peephole. But in a weekend mired in disappointment, she should have known that was unlikely. Instead, she found herself facing a stooped, bearded man in his slippers. 

“Good morning, can I help you?”

“Hello, I live in 354”

“Yes, I believe I may have seen you in the building. Can I do something for you?”

“Is your husband home?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I was hoping he could help me with some issues I am having with my television. He told me he was an engineer.”

             Sabine tapped her foot as she surveyed the rude stranger in front of her who hadn’t even bothered with an introduction. She had indeed seen him around the building, but this was the 1st time he had bothered to make eye contact with her. While the blue eyes under the bushy white eyebrows were sharp, they didn’t appear malicious. She wondered if she should inform him that her husband wasn’t home and leave him to his television troubles, or if she should inform him that it was actually she who was the engineer.

Jackson was beginning to feel uncomfortable under the direct gaze of the woman in front of him. She seemed to be lost in thought and he wondered whether she had understood his request. She seemed normal enough in her long flowing black skirt and white blouse. Black and white, just like his TV. Sometimes, he made himself chuckle. 

“Ma-am?”

“Actually, I am the engineer. You must have misheard him. Would you like me to take a look at it?”

She stuck out her hand, “Sabine Naqvi”

He found himself automatically reaching for it, “Lt. Jackson Hughes, 3rd battalion, Canadian Armed Forces”

He saw her lips quiver as she seemed to hold back a smile. She didn’t seem to mind talking to him and was volunteering to help him, and his television needed repairing.

“Yes, if you don’t mind Mrs. Naqvi, I would appreciate the help. Will that be okay with your husband?”

Sabine wasn’t sure whether to laugh or close the door on his face in exasperation. But she didn’t have anything better to do and maybe helping this lonely old man would cheer her up.

“He is otherwise busy and I am sure he won’t mind. Why don’t you lead the way Lt. Hughes?”

While she grabbed her keys and locked up Jackson shuffled over to his apartment. As he unlocked his door and awaited her, he found himself thinking that maybe they weren’t all so bad after all.