John tried to hide his discomfort as he walked into Andy’s room. The place was a shadow of its former glory. Empty cans stacked high on the coffee table. Stains seeped deep into the wood from a frothy can of nights prior. The air is thick. Scanning the room everything sat in a hazy layer of dust. It was perfectly still. The whole room was one organism connected by smell, taste, and the presence of Andy. “You wanted to talk ‘bout something?” Andy said walking through the room.
John tried to focus on the man. Watching him navigate the room. Hoping to find the path of least resistance. A path that would avoid touching anything. John decided to stay in the doorway. “Right, it’s about the rent.” John said. “It’s been another week. I can’t keep dragging it out like this.”
Andy’s posture changes. The ruffling of trash underfoot stops for a moment. He turns on a heel. A newspaper crackles under his feet. “We already sorted this out dude.” Andy said. He meets John’s eyes from across the table with a smile. “You came over like a week ago and we figured it out right?” Andy continues. Andy reaches for a long open can on the table. John can feel his heart racing. His knuckles clench. “We sorted it out alright. You said you’d clean up this shithole by next week, then I’d consider giving you more time. But no, it’s the same sorry state for the last six weeks. What’s happened to you?”
Andy freezes for a second. It feels like an eternity. Every sensation rushes in. The lukewarm can half way to his face. The sweet smell of the beer undergoing a second fermentation. The shadow of John in the doorway. Not his friend, just a shape. A shape of someone he grew up with. A friend. Is he still a friend? He hopes so. “I’m trying John. It’s not just me. There’s too much goin’ on right now.” “Don’t give me this again” John says. “We all have shit going on. We all got problems. We all can’t…” John stops himself. His hands are shaking. His nostrils burn from the smell of the place. “Go on say it” Andy says. “We all can’t piss our lives away like you” John says.
John is done. He can see his heart beating from under his shirt. His armpits are covered in sweat. When was the last time he felt like this? Maybe it was back in college in his debating days. Standing on stage shaking like a twig. Voice crackly, mouth dry as the Sahara. John hated talking to people. But, conflict like this was something new altogether. “Goodbye Andy”. John walks down the hallway. The last of the daylight shining through the windows, it feels like freedom compared to that room. He quickens the pace counting the rooms as he walks. “One seven-teen, one six-teen, one fif-teen, one four-teen”. Each syllable spoken under his breathe. At one ten he would be free. Turn the corner and down the stairs. Each step echos in the hallway. It is a cavern. “How many rooms have I passed again? How do I deal with this? He can’t go out on the street again. He needs help. What can I do?” John’s thoughts are a jumbled mess. “One thir-teen, one twel-ve, one ze-ro nine. Too far!” John turns on a dime. His veins run cold. The hallway feels endless. But, in the distance he sees him. A figure faces him from down the hall. Outside room one eighteen a slouched figure. Is this really his old friend? It’s the same shape. But, he is different. Something else is inside him. The glassy eyes, weak stance. He is smaller, weaker. A parasite sucking away everything inside of him. His life, energy, money, gone.
“Just go.” Andy says. His voice catching on every wall in the hallway. It bounces off the concrete walls. The slides down the room, drifting between John’s ears. It is loud and clear. The stairs await with indifference. John looks down the hall one last time. Andy is gone. Was he even there at all? Is Andy even Andy anymore. John descends. Each step clicks beneath his