Roommate Reflection

For the first time in forever, our eyes met, his staring back into mine. Dennis Walker was his name, an old roommate of mine. We shared a beaten-down apartment, the type whose floorboards creaked and the water ran gray. There was only one lightbulb in the entire place, flickering as if the wind would blow it out. I hated that damned bulb. I hated them damn floorboards, the whole damn place. I hated the world as it was and the world hated me in return. I had no one, nothing, except Dennis.

Usually, when a person says something like that, you’d assume Dennis is some fallen angel sent to save me: wrong. I've spent too much time reflecting on how all this came to be, yet I can't even place when Dennis showed up. Whether he was a childhood friend gone sour, met in later life, nothing. All I know is that Dennis has always been there, like a mole on your back. Not some sort of beauty mark or little freckle, a mole. One big, fat, ugly mole that itches every time you think about it. It seemed that Dennis’s only purpose was to be where I was at all times. Every morning I wake up, he's there, doing the same thing for as long as I can remember. My life felt like an endless cycle of misery. The days blurred together like faded colors on a canvas, dull and never-ending. I was running on a long gray path, trying to find the end, never realizing it was a loop. I kept running, round and round again on that so-called “circle of life”. A circle with one revolving point: Dennis. I would run past him, with all my might, desperately sprinting, trying to leave him in the dust. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, when the dust cleared, the loop always brought me back to Dennis.

There were many qualities I disliked about him. His dark eye bags, his scrawny limbs, his slight limp when he walked: these features infuriated me. I loathed how he acted and how he was, but what I hated most, was his consistent need to be close to me. The saddest thing was that I couldn’t even remember life before Dennis. Every damn memory I had, you’d be able to make out that scrawny silhouette following me like a shadow. Even when I took a rare trip to the outside world, Dennis could be found close behind.

Yesterday, I had left the apartment, in a hurry, just barely remembering the doctor's appointment I had scheduled. Predictably before the creaky rusted door hinges swung shut, Dennis slipped out, ready for another day of stalking. I glared at him, feeling my anger boil inside.

“What are you doing?” I said coldly.

In response, Dennis stared at the matted apartment carpet, completely disregarding my question.

“Answer me,” I snarled, “Don't ignore my question.”

Dennis stayed still, remaining silent like always. I let out a frustrated sigh, sharply turning away from him. I chose to return the favor, ignoring him as I stomped down the dimly lit hallway. Glancing at a dusty cracked clock crookedly hanging in the dim light, I made out the long hand to be resting in the middle of the 9 and the 10. I cursed, knowing I had 12 minutes till the appointment. I set off at a run, half because I was late, and half to try and get away from Dennis. Locating the door to the stairs, I rushed down the filthy hallway, slamming myself into the door. It blasted open, revealing the steep descent down to the exit of the building. Keeping my quick pace, I flew down the stairs, stopping short at the final step. I recollected myself, quickly glancing back to see that dark-haired skinny boy standing a couple feet away. Facing back forward, I straightened myself. Sighing, I pushed the door open, ready to face society.

Blinding light hit my face as I stepped out onto the dull gray concrete. I held my breath to savor the air from the comfort of my own apartment. The world was foul, consumed by its own citizens. I hated people, their confidence, their need to make things new and fancy. I hated their need to make things timed and exact, as if everyone needed more rules to follow. Making life harder than it had to be was a practiced skill of the human race. As I made my way into the crowded walkway, I was immediately engulfed by the mass of pedestrians. People on all sides of me, shuffling loudly and with haste. Their faces blurred as I squeezed my way through the mob. I hated it, the uncaring attitude of the people, the way they moved so swiftly, so surely. I turned my head, looking back once again. There he was, of course, looking as scrawny as ever. Dennis walked with his head down, staring at his torn-up sneakers as they violently flapped up and down with his unevenly timed steps. He only ever glanced up when a bypasser would collide with his shoulder or trample his foot. Each interaction seemed to set his mood deeper and sink his head lower to his feet. For a second, I almost felt sorry for him. Pity that shortly left as I heard the irritating sound of the soles of his sneakers threatening to fly off at any moment. I moved on, remembering my destination ahead. Dashing forward, I pushed through the sea of people like the bow of a ship.

I sailed through the murky sea of people all the way to the office where I made port. Stopping abruptly before the glass door of the building, I caught my breath. I’d made it with a minute to spare. Reluctantly, I turned my head back, just barely making out the silhouette of a skinny looking figure running my way. Shaking my head in disgust, I pressed my fingertips to the cool glass of the office door, allowing it to swing open. I was immediately hit with a gust of hand sanitizer smell and sounds of quiet conversation. Walking over to my usual waiting bench, I seated myself next to a familiar dark-haired boy. Sighing hard once again, I turned my head away from Dennis, eyeing my surroundings carefully. There were several other benches, holding several other people.

“Miss. Wright?” A nurse called.

One of the others in the waiting area rose from their seat. She was a stiff looking woman, appearing to be in her mid-thirties. Her eyes flew back and forth across the room as if small birds were darting past her eyes. Suddenly, the woman let out a blood-curdling shriek, abruptly falling to the ground. I snapped my head in the direction she had been staring, searching for the cause of her terror. All I could see were dirty glass windows and faded medical posters nobody ever read. The nurse quickly yet calmly made her way over to the woman, as if something usual had just happened.

“It's alright Martha,” the nurse comforted, “They aren't real.”

The woman supposedly named “Martha” sobbed into her arm, nodding slowly at what the nurse whispered to her. After several minutes of soft talk and back rubbing, Martha could finally stand again, nervously glancing around the area as the nurse led her to one of the private rooms. I let my muscles relax once again, turning to look at Dennis. It appeared he had no reaction to the odd scenario as his head was still bent down staring at the gray tile floor. He barely even moved as he sat there. You would have presumed him dead if it wasn't for the slight twitching of his fingers or tapping of feet. Another nurse stepped out into the middle of the floor, staring right at me. She beckoned me with her hand,

“This way, please.”

My appointments were as useless as advertisements on television, you have to sit through them but never listen anyways. The nurse led me to a private room where I proceeded as normal to sit down and “pay attention” to my so-called “doctor” until he stopped talking. Dennis of course followed a long, sitting close by me as my doctor lectured. I noticed that unlike before, Dennis was actually being attentive and seemed to be listening intensely to what my doctor was saying. He could ignore me my whole life but this doctor was worthy of his attention? I scoffed, facing my back to Dennis, tilting my head up to stare at the gray ceiling tiles. I hated this place, my doctor, the damned ceiling tile that was slightly smaller than the rest of them, it mocked me just like everything else in this place.

I waited and waited as my doctor rambled on. It was the same as always, him telling me that I was sick. I knew what he really wanted. He wanted my validation, my submission to finally break down and do what he asked of me. I knew I wasn't sick, and I knew his tricks. He would never get to me, not like he got to the others who he played doctor to.

At last, he ended his speech and the room fell silent. Not wishing to stay any longer I rose from my seat turning to leave, but he made one last motion. Moving his arm forward, his hand outstretched, gesturing to an item in his palm. A small gray bottle, no bigger than a mouse, rested on the surface of his hand. Again I knew his plan. I would not take some “medication” for the “illness” he claimed I had. He wanted me dead. They all did. Not even considering his offer, I turned on my heel and marched towards the exit, furious at the nerve of my doctor. Just as I was almost out of earshot, I faintly heard the sound of pills shaking. Puzzled, I whirled around to find Dennis, taking the medicine from my doctor. The doctor thanked him, shaking his boney hand like a businessman. My confusion quickly turned to rage, as I watched Dennis walk past me, back into the waiting room. That boy. That fiend. He thought he could take matters into his own hands and finish what the doctors had started. I was wrong, I was alone. I only had myself and that's who I would trust. No one else understood me, no one else saw through their lies. Dennis Walker had made his last mistake.

I screamed, rushing at Dennis grabbing him by the shoulder and punching him in the jaw. Dennis completely lost his balance falling back towards the ground, smashing his head into the dull gray tile. I ripped the medicine bottle from his fingers, violently bringing it down on his neck. The blow collided, causing Dennis to choke while scattering the little white pills all over the floor. Fueled by my anger, I decided to end it all now. I wrung my hands around his scrawny neck and squeezed. I squeezed with all of my might, hoping to leave him in the dust. I looked into the eyes of Dennis, wanting to be the last thing he ever saw, but to my surprise, I saw no fear. Fear was flushed out by a crazed smile, spreading across his mouth. Now, it was me who felt fear. An odd dizzy sensation came over me as I swayed on the cold gray tile. My vision darkened and I collapsed onto the floor where Dennis should have been. Pain erupted in my head as the dizziness faded. I heard the voices of nurses standing over me whispering frantically.

“He had another episode,” I could barely make out.

Episode? What could they be talking about? Where's Dennis? I tried to think but the excruciating pain in my head washed away all of my thoughts. As my vision started to clear I saw my doctor, standing over me, waving a fuzzy hand in front of my face. Voices muffled as I tried to sit up, coughing from a sudden pain in my throat. I brought my hand to my mouth to wipe blood from my chin, but it wasn't my hand.

Chills ran down through every inch of my skin as I stared back at a familiar scrawny hand in front of my face. Dread filled my body as a cold realization hit me. I slowly turned toward the shiny tile floor, looking for my reflection. Memories morphed together as the world that I knew fell apart. The paint on the canvas became brighter and I finally stopped running around that loop. There he was, in front of me, as I accepted it wasn't the world that I hated. I slowly turned my head, sweeping across that gray floor realizing for the first time, there was a faint hint of blue hidden in that gray. Focusing my eyes, I looked into the reflective tile on that cold floor of the medical center, as the eyes of Dennis Walker stared back into mine.