A Window on Life

   Since Sadie had not gone out in the two weeks since Harold’s funeral, she had almost forgotten what whole people looked like. From their basement flat, the former servants’ quarters of a once elegant Edwardian townhouse, she could see only legs from the knee down passing the window. She had never paid attention to how low and gloomy the flat was when Harold was alive. He was gregarious and funny, and they had always been going somewhere and doing something, even if it was just a short walk in the park. Then he had dropped dead of an aneurysm. Now that the funeral was over and their daughter Julie had gone back to her own home, Sadie was at a loss. She seemed to have fallen into an abyss. When the phone rang, she glanced at it listlessly but never answered. Harold had made her learn to use email, but the laptop lay untouched. A stack of condolence cards teetered unsteadily on the dining table, unopened, much less read. She knew she would have to go out eventually, if only to buy some groceries, but it was a daunting thought to face the world without Harold after fifty years together.

    Time had no meaning. She could not have said how long she sat on the sofa watching the legs go by. Some were walking, some were skipping, some shuffled. The numbers gradually increased after dawn, suit legs and highly polished leather brogues, smart women’s business pumps, children’s sandals and sneakers as school opened, interspersed with workmen’s boots and every kind of athletic shoe passing in a constant drumbeat. Late at night, strappy high heeled sandals tip-tapped past and cats’ eyes gleamed in the dark as they slipped by on mysterious errands. Sometimes the homeless man who roamed at night picking up discarded cans shuffled by. She would doze intermittently all night on the sofa until the parade began again in the morning, unable to face the empty space on Harold’s side of the bed. The only faces she saw were of short-legged dogs and the occasional toddler peering curiously through the metal fence bars at her window before being hustled off by an impatient adult.

     Sadie finally slept all night on the sofa out of sheer exhaustion after several days of catnapping, clutching an old cardigan that Harold had worn almost every day. She woke at dawn, slightly disoriented before remembering where she was. Rubbing her eyes, she got up stiffly and tweaked the lace curtains open. She jumped backwards when she was confronted by the pale, sweaty face of a young man staring at her through the window. He had to be lying on the pavement to be at her eye level. Someone’s sneaker-clad feet stepped around him.She opened the window.

“What are you doing?” she tried to say. “Are you alright?” Her voice came out as a rasp. She cleared her throat and repeated herself, then realized he couldn’t hear her. 

      “He’s probably drunk,” she said to herself. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the dusty windowpane and gasped in horror. Her hair stood up in Medusa-like curls and her clothes were wrinkled and sweaty. She sniffed at herself and recoiled, stopping dead in her tracks as she heard Harold’s laughter.

      “That’s what happens when you lie around moping,” he said. “Check if that young man’s in trouble, would you?”

Sadie gazed around in bewilderment. Great. Now she was hearing things. Imagination, she said to herself. If she acted normally, no one would ever know. She looked out of the window again. People were still stepping over the young man on the pavement. Sadie dithered. Probably just drunk. Suddenly she heard Harold again, though this time it did not scare her.

      “Go on, love, check on him. Something is wrong. Take your phone.”

It was exactly what Harold would have said. He had never met a stranger and Sadie was notorious for forgetting her phone. She grabbed it as she went out and up the area steps. Crouching beside him, she shook the young man’s shoulder. He mumbled and stirred, rolling onto his side. His sleeve fell back, revealing a medical alert bracelet. He tried to say something, his words slurred. People glanced with curiosity or irritation as they navigated around him, but no one offered to help. A passing woman tutted in disgust.

      “Disgraceful, at this time in the morning too,” she said to her friend.

Relieved that he was breathing steadily, Sadie dialed the emergency number with shaking hands and gladly stepped back when paramedics arrived. With professional competence, they loaded him into the ambulance. Sadie watched it recede into the distance. The few gawkers who had paused to stare merged into the crowd and life resumed as if nothing had ever happened. Sadie suddenly remembered her disheveled appearance and hastily scurried back downstairs.

        “No wonder they didn’t stop,” she said to herself. “They thought he was drunk, and I was crazy.”

       “Doesn’t excuse them,” said Harold. “No one knows when they might need help. Good job, love.”

Sadie glanced fondly at the last picture of Harold which she'd had framed. She had no idea if she’d really heard him or just thought of what he might say. What mattered was that she had broken out of the terrible prison of loneliness of the past few days. She gave his cardigan a fond hug and headed for the shower.

      Over the next few days, Sadie tidied up and began to answer the condolence cards, talking to Harold as she wrote.

      “Here’s a card from that Ms. Brackman at the bank. I never thought she could crack a smile, but she says she misses your jokes whenever you went into the bank. Maybe your jokes there weren’t as corny as at home. Now who is this? “Dear Mr. Harold, I am doing my homework like u said, I miss u, Nico.” Must be one of the children from the youth center.”

Harold had volunteered for several organizations after he retired, sometimes to Sadie’s great annoyance.

       “We are supposed to be taking it easy at our age,” she said. Harold had looked surprised.

       “I’ll sleep long enough when I'm dead, but I'm not there yet. Might as well be useful while I can.”

        “Except you are dead now, love. I suppose I might as well be useful too while I can,” Sadie said out loud, putting stamps on the envelope of another reply, and wiping a tear at the same time. She had just picked up her pen when there was a knock at the door. Sadie kept the chain on and opened it cautiously.

     “Yes?”

 A tall young man was standing in the gloomy passage. It took Sadie a moment to recognize the pale, sweaty stranger from the pavement. He smiled.

      “I understand you were my guardian angel the other day when I passed out. I just wanted to thank you. I have diabetes and I usually manage it well, but the other day, things got out of control. It might have ended really badly if you hadn’t called for help when you did.”

Sadie smiled.

        “I’m glad you’re feeling better. You really must thank Harold, but that’s a long story for another day. Would you like a cup of tea? Come on in.”