1 Neil

Neil opened his eyes to his white ceiling, rolled over to his left, noticed Donaldson sleeping, and closed his eyes again. His alarm hadn't gone off. He wasn't in any rush. With that thought, Neil's phone exploded into noise, a new song this morning. Neil tried to switch up what he woke up to every day, today it was "Can't take my eyes off you" by Frankie Valli, he didn't choose it and was getting tired of his random wake-up songs. With a groan, Neil rolled over and began his morning.

He rubbed his eyes and groped the top of his nightstand in search of his glasses. He put them on and stood up. Donaldson rolled over, stared at Neil, and covered his ears with his hands. Neil realized he hadn't turned his alarm off and Donaldson didn't need to wake up for another hour. Neil grabbed his phone, turned off his alarm, and put it in his pocket; front-right pocket. He stepped over the pile of dirty laundry that he kept contributing to out of laziness and neglect. Then, continued to the end of his bed and sidestepped past the TV positioned in the middle of the room at the foot of the bed. Donaldson was odd, he slept on a couch, granted a very comfortable couch, but a couch nonetheless. Neil didn't think much of it when Donaldson first moved in and, over time, stopped noticing. After passing the TV Neil continued through their tiny kitchen, past their tiny dinner table, and eventually got to the bathroom. He turned the handle and pushed open the door.

The door swung open into the bathroom. It was obviously only made for one, but sparingly, fit two. The walls were white but graying. Where they met the roof the paint started to peel from the heat of the rising steam. The counter was marble and the sink was white, the mirror only spanned 3 feet of the 10-foot bathroom, and right above the mirror was a single, painfully white, light. Neil set his glasses down on the counter and yanked the shower faucet all the way to the right. The water never seemed to get warm enough. Neil stood in their small shower and let the water run down his hair, onto his back, and onto the shower floor. Neil never understood how people took long showers, he always found them to be pointless and a waste of time. He scrubbed himself clean and washed his hair. Neil cranked the shower handle to the left and pushed open the glass door. Steam poured out of the shower, slamming into the ceiling. Neil stood in front of the mirror and stared at his blurry silhouette. The combination of having awful eyes and a foggy mirror meant all Neil could make out was his outline.

The bathroom door squeaked as Neil opened it and entered the kitchen. He grabbed a banana from their fruit bowl and a bowl from the cabinet. He opened the pantry, grabbed the Corn Flakes labeled "Donaldson's! Do NOT touch!" and poured himself a bowl. Next, he opened the fridge and grabbed the milk on the side of the door, finished making his cereal, and placed the milk back into the fridge. Neil pulled out one of the two chairs at their circular table, sat down, and started to eat his breakfast. Donaldson was starting his own morning routine, he had turned on the TV and had propped himself up on his pillow. He yawned, gave Neil a nod, and went back to focusing on his TV.

Neil didn't speak much to Donaldson, but Donaldson generally had something spiritual or helpful to say when he did. Neil found himself turning to Donaldson a lot for a boost in mental confidence. For some reason, Donaldson just knew what to say when people felt lost, Neil thought of it as a superpower Donaldson had. There wasn't a lot Neil knew about Donaldson, all he really did know was that he paid rent and that he seemed to have it made. Donaldson left after Neil and got home before him, Donaldson never really seemed to have any responsibilities or anything on his mind. He was content with his situation. Neil couldn't imagine a simpler life.

Neil stood, pushed his chair in, placed his bowl in the sink, and opened the corner cabinet. Neil grabbed a pill bottle from the cabinet, unscrewed the cap, and popped two pills into his mouth. Neil then waved to Donaldson and said goodbye, pulled open their door, and walked outside. They lived on the sixth floor inside their apartment building which meant it was either around a 30-second elevator ride or 12 flights of stairs. Neil generally opted for the elevator. He pressed the circular "down" button and the ring around it lit up. Neil stood anxiously listening to the elevator cables running up and down waiting for the elevator to reach the sixth floor. With a ding, the doors slid open and Neil stepped inside. Neil pushed his thumb into the button labeled "G" for ground and the ring lit up. The doors slid closed and Neil stood in the elevator, alone.

Neil's commute wasn't very long but he never enjoyed it. He only lived ten minutes away from his work which made staying that much harder. Neil hated where he worked, which he attributed, mostly, to how close he was to home. It never crossed Neil's mind that there might be another reason for the dread of his workplace. Neil's earlier academic life was filled with encouragement and comments depicting Neil as "special". For Neil's life, these comments enforced the idea that adult life would come easily to Neil and that, eventually, he would find his purpose. Neil was encouraged to find his passion as if it would come to him as a letter in his mailbox. With this thought fried into Neil's mind, he continued to work his 40-hour workweek behind a desk he despised, slowly working his life away. The only person who seemed to take Neil's mind off the thought of him dying behind this desk was Tony.

Tony worked three desks down from Neil. Most days they would eat lunch together, gossip about their fellow co-workers, and talk about what was going on in their lives. Earlier in the week, Tony had mentioned to Neil that he was thinking of quitting, Neil was petrified at the idea of Tony leaving. He had grown fond of Tony. Tony was Neil's main escape hatch when he was stuck at work. But, Tony was more than that to Neil, he was a friend.

Neil cautiously entered his workspace, as if trying to avoid his own death. He reached his desk, set his bag down, looked to his right, and saw black hair poking over the top of the cubicle three desks down. Neil, relieved, sighed and sat down. He would get to see Tony again before he left for good. Unbeknownst to Neil, Tony had moved the weekend prior. He was now living in Florida.

As Neil counted down the seconds to 5:30, he began to dread the thought of coming in to work the next day. even more than usual. Lunch had rolled through and Neil had waited. As Neil waited, the lunch break shortened. With every passing minute, there was no Tony. Without Tony, the portion of Neil's day that he enjoyed, wasn't there. As the minute hand clicked over to the six, Neil sighed, zipped up his bag, and threw it over his shoulders.

Neil, still hopeful he would see Tony tomorrow, continued through his day. Leaving work, heading to a nearby store to grab groceries, and then heading home. Most of Neil's days consisted of something routine-ish. It included work, shopping for what he didn't have at home, then going back to see Donaldson, already home on the couch. Neil always looked forward to going home, it was the space he could be himself.

It was also the area Neil could vent, express himself, truly. Not holding back, Neil let everyone, everyone being Donaldson, know how he felt. Donaldson was always willing to listen, occasionally tuning out and just being present with Neil's emotions. Neil didn't mind whether Donaldson was being actively attentive or zoning out, Neil just needed someone. Neil would regularly try to count the people he could rely on, generally ending at one or two. Donaldson was a constant on Neil's list, the other fluctuated. Sometimes it was Tony, sometimes it was Neil's younger sister. Neil never knew who was really on his list. Of course, there were the people who would speak to Neil and offer their friendship when Neil needed it, but, these were the people Neil knew weren't on his list. Neil's brain had been filled with promises of friendships that he never experienced. They may have been people who would have helped Neil, but they weren't people who wanted to help Neil.

As Neil commuted home he raced through his thoughts. He blew by happy memories and fond thoughts straight to the depths. Neil noticed he spent most of his time in the depths of his brain, locked in a pit, being buried under his fears and anxieties. Neil found it hard to throw the ladder of personal peace into the pit he had himself locked in. No matter what he tried, he kept shoveling more anxieties onto himself.

Neil arrived at his apartment building. He stopped in front of the glass door and looked upwards. The eight-story building towered before him. Two stories down from the top he found an open window with a cactus on the window sill. His cactus. Neil lowered his head to face the ground and stared at a crack in the concrete he was standing on. He was hesitant to go home, he didn't want to only be around Donaldson. Even if company meant the strangers breezing by him and flowing around him as he stood in the middle of the sidewalk. Neil felt like a stone in a river. People brushed past him, bumping him slightly, but he remained stationary. His shoulders and arms were being eroded as he pulled them closer to himself.

As the traffic around Neil subsided he made his way slowly into his apartment building. He walked past the mailboxes to the front of the elevator and pressed the circular button labeled "6th". Neil stood in front of the elevator door and stared at his feet, he stared down and thought back to the last time he knew where home was. He thought back to when he lived with his family, back to when he lived in his dorm in college, and he thought about now, where he lived with Donaldson. None of the options felt like home to Neil. He had an apartment, but he was homeless.

The elevator made a loud ding and Neil was on the 6th floor. He stepped out, walked to his door, inserted the key, unlocked the door, and twisted the handle. He walked in and saw Donaldson laying on the couch watching TV. Neil and Donaldson made eye contact and Donaldson spoke first, "Hey man, how was the workday?"

Neil sighed, "That bad huh?" Donaldson pressed.

"Tony's gone, moved I guess," Neil spoke with his head lowered.

Donaldson muted the TV, "Jeez, that's tough, he must've gotten a better opportunity. Hopefully, he's doing well wherever he is."

"Yeah, I guess so." Neil pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down. "It just really sucks, ya know? I really liked him."

"Yeah, it does suck, but friends move, people change and life presents all of us with so many different opportunities. All we can do is wish him the best wherever this new portion of his life takes him." Donaldson spoke intending to help Neil but all Neil felt was dread. He couldn't believe the point he'd come to. He felt like he couldn't trust anyone anymore. He felt like he had no one. He felt alone in his apartment, it felt empty. Neil, trapped in his head barely heard Donaldson,

"Yo, dude, whatever is going through your mind right now, you can beat this."

"Donaldson, all due respect, who are you to tell me that I can or can't do this? You've known me for about half a year? Maybe? Why do you think I can make it through this?"

"Neil, I don't know if you can make it through this. Honestly, I barely know what THIS is. But, I do believe in you."

Neil chuckled, "That's a first" he muttered.

Donaldson stood up off the couch and opened the window, then turned to face Neil.

"Listen, man, you're your own person, I can't tell you what or what not to do. Whatever you choose, I'll support it. I'll be here for you."

"That's just it, Donaldson. You won't, no one ever is. I'm never even here for myself. How am I supposed to count on you to support me when I can't even support myself?"

Donaldson looked down at his feet, ashamed of the unintentional emptiness his words carried. Neil pushed past Donaldson and walked right over to the window. He stared out at the street below him and the cars parked along the sidewalk. He carefully picked up his cactus, placed it on his nightstand, and placed his foot on the windowsill. Neil stood staring down at the cars and sidewalk below him. He turned around and locked eyes with Donaldson, who surprisingly, was watching.

"Support me!? What a joke! I'm on the brink of plummeting to my death and you're watching!! Like you're staring at that stupid TV! It's almost like you don't even exist!"

Neil turned around to face the street and waited for a reply from Donaldson. To his surprise, all he heard was the honking of cars, Donaldson stayed quiet.

Neil dropped his foot off of the windowsill on the sixth story and closed his eyes.

As the sound of crashing metal and a distant car alarm echoed through Neil's apartment window, all that was left inside was Neil's cactus.