Lonely Without The Shadows
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“I’m not going to be able to do this,” I said. “It’s too hard.”
The old man looked at me with a sad smile and nodded, then turned away from the window so that he was facing me again. He reached up and took my hand in his own, squeezing it gently as he did. Then he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on either side of him on the table before us.
His eyes were fixed upon mine, but they seemed distant somehow—as if there wasn’t any real connection between them anymore. They weren’t looking into me; rather, they appeared to look through me. It made me feel very uncomfortable.
He spoke softly now: “You are afraid because you don’t know what is happening here, aren’t you?”
My heart began beating faster, and I felt myself trembling all over. My mouth went dry, and for some reason, I could barely breathe. What had happened? Had something gone wrong already? Was everything lost?
But no, surely not! Surely nothing like that would happen…would it?
“Yes…” I whispered.
His voice came back to me suddenly, sounding almost gentle. “That’s right. You’re frightened because you have never been alone before. And yet you must learn how to be by yourself, or else you will always remain lonely.”
For an instant, I thought about trying to pull free of his grip, but then I realized that doing such a thing wouldn’t accomplish anything. So instead I just sat still and waited until he released my hand and let go of my arm. I didn’t want him to see me shaking.
Then he moved around behind the desk and picked up the book lying open there. As he opened it once more, I saw that it contained only one page. There was writing on both sides of it, though, and when he held it out toward me, I read the words written on each side.
On the left-hand side, in large letters, were these words:
A LONELY MAN’S DREAM OF THE FUTURE
THE WORLD IS A BEAUTIFUL PLACE
AND IT DESERVES TO LAST FOREVER AND EVER
BUT THERE ARE THINGS THAT WE MUST DO BEFORE THEN
SO LET US BEGIN NOW, IN THIS VERY MOMENT
TO MAKE OUR WAY THROUGH LIFE AS HAPPILY AS POSSIBLE
FOR IF NOTHING ELSE, AT LEAST WE WILL HAVE GIVEN EVERYTHING WE CAN
And on the other side of the page, which was blank except for the title of the poem, were these lines:
THERE WAS AN OLD MAN WHO SAT ALONE ON HIS ROOF
WHILE ALL AROUND HIM PEOPLE WALKED BY WITH THEIR FRIENDS
HE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT THEY SAID OR WHY HE SHOULD CARE
BECAUSE NO ONE TOLD HIM ANYTHING ABOUT THEM
ALL HE KNEW WAS HOW MUCH MORE COMFORTABLE IT FEELS
WITHOUT SHADOWS CLOSETED UP NEAR YOU
IT’S BETTER WHEN YOUR EYES DON’T SEE
YOU JUST SMILE FROM TIME TO TIME
AND SAY SOMETHING LIKE ‘OH, YES!’
OR EVEN ‘WHAT?’
AND THEN GO BACK INTO THE SUNSHINE
I stared down at those two pages for several seconds without saying anything. Then I lifted my head and looked directly into the old man’s face. He smiled sadly as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.
“What does it mean?” I asked quietly.
He shook his head slowly. “No, I can’t tell you that. Not yet. But someday you’ll understand.”
There was a long silence after that, during which we simply gazed silently across the room at each other. Finally, I glanced away from him, turning my attention back to the window. Outside, the sun was shining brightly, and I could hear birds singing somewhere nearby. For a moment I closed my eyes and listened to their voices, letting them fill me with warmth.
After another few minutes had passed, I heard footsteps approaching outside. When I turned around, I found myself staring straight into the smiling face of the young woman who’d come to visit me earlier. She was carrying her guitar case in one hand, and she stopped beside the chair where I sat.
She set the case down on the floor next to her feet, then stepped closer to me. Her hair fell down over her shoulders, and I noticed that it had changed color since our last meeting. It seemed darker than usual, and there was a hint of red mixed in among its many shades of brown.
As I watched, she reached up and touched the ends of it gently, running her fingers through the strands. The way she did so reminded me of the time when I first met her—when I’d seen her sitting on the roof of this very house, playing her guitar.
The memory brought tears to my eyes. I blinked rapidly, fighting against the sudden urge to cry.
“Are you okay?” the girl said softly.
I nodded quickly, unable to speak.
Her smile widened slightly. “It’s all right,” she told me. “You don’t need to hide your feelings from me anymore.”
When I didn’t respond, she took hold of my hands again. They felt small in hers, delicate and frail.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Kenji. Everything is going to work out fine. We’ll get everything ready for you soon enough. Just wait patiently, and things will fall into place naturally.”
For some reason, the sound of her voice made me feel better. I let go of her hands and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
She gave me an encouraging nod before stepping back and leaving the room. After she was gone, I remained seated in the same position for quite a while longer. Eventually, however, I stood up and walked over to the desk. I picked up the book that the old man had been reading just moments ago, then flipped it open and began leafing through the pages.
My gaze drifted idly toward the empty space where the photograph used to be. I wondered why it hadn’t reappeared by now. Perhaps the old man had taken it with him when he left. Or maybe someone else had removed it while I wasn’t looking. Either way, I couldn’t help but wonder whether or not I would ever see it again.
At length, I put the book aside and returned to my seat near the window. There, I opened the notebook that I’d borrowed from the old man and started writing down the words of his poem.
***
A few days later, I went to visit the old man once more. This time, though, I decided to take along a pen and paper. I wanted to write down every word he spoke, no matter how trivial they might seem. And even if I never understood any of them, I still thought it best to record them anyway.
I waited until late afternoon before heading out to meet him. As always, I wore my sunglasses indoors, hiding behind their dark lenses like a coward.
But today, something happened to change my mind about wearing them.
I was walking down the hallway, headed toward the front door when I saw the young woman standing inside the living room. She was leaning casually against the wall, watching me approach.
I froze in midstep. My heart pounded loudly in my chest, and I could barely breathe.
“Mr. Kenji…” she called out to me.
Startled, I turned around and looked at her. Her hair was tied back tightly in a ponytail; her face was pale and smooth, and she stared directly into mine as she approached.
“Hello,” I managed to say.
“How are you feeling these days?” she asked.
“Fine,” I replied automatically. Then, because I suddenly realized what she meant, I added: “Why do you ask? Is something wrong?”
She smiled faintly. “Not really. You look well. That’s all.”
Then she moved past me, making her way into the kitchen. A moment later, she emerged carrying two cups of coffee in both hands. One of them was filled with black liquid, the other with steaming milk.
“Here you go,” she said, setting the cup of black coffee down on the table in front of me. “Drink up.”
I hesitated only briefly before reaching for the mug. I lifted it to my lips and took a sip, savoring the rich flavor.
“This tastes good,” I murmured appreciatively.
“I’m glad you think so,” she responded. “Now drink up.”
I glanced up at her, confused. But she simply smiled and gestured impatiently for me to finish drinking. So I did.
Afterward, I set the empty mug down on the table and sat there quietly for several seconds, staring off into space. Finally, I cleared my throat and said: “So…what exactly were we talking about earlier?”
She laughed lightly. “Oh, right. Sorry. It slipped my mind.”
“What does that mean?”
She shrugged. “Nothing much. I guess I forgot to tell you. The old man has already finished translating the rest of the poem. He plans to give it to you tomorrow morning, after breakfast. Do you remember that?”
I nodded slowly.
“Good. Well, then, I’ll leave you alone. Enjoy your meal.”
With that, she turned and left the room. When I heard the door close behind her, I exhaled deeply.
I spent the next hour sitting in silence, sipping my coffee and trying to make sense of everything that had happened since yesterday evening. By the time I finally got up to leave, it was almost sunset outside.
As I stepped onto the porch, I noticed that the old man was nowhere to be found.
He must have gone home early, I assumed. Or perhaps he had another appointment somewhere else. Either way, I didn’t expect to see him again anytime soon.
Still, I felt compelled to stop by his house one last time. To thank him for his kindness, and to apologize for being such a bother.
When I arrived, however, I discovered that the old man wasn’t home. His car was parked in the driveway, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, I spotted a note taped to the door.
It read:
Dear Mr. Kenji,
Thank you very much for visiting me this afternoon. Please forgive me for leaving without saying goodbye.
Your friend,
The Old Man
I stood there reading the letter over and over again, wondering what to do. Should I wait here until he came back? Go home first and come back later?
In the end, I decided to head straight back to my apartment instead. After all, I hadn’t eaten dinner yet, and I knew I wouldn’t get anything done if I stayed any longer than necessary.
Besides, I told myself, I’ve been waiting long enough. If the old man doesn’t want to talk anymore, then fine—he can just keep his stupid poems!
I walked quickly through the neighborhood, taking care not to run into anyone. And once I reached my building, I unlocked the front door and went inside.
Once again, I made my way upstairs, climbed into bed, pulled the covers up high, and closed my eyes.
And now, as I lay awake in the darkness, I couldn’t help thinking about the old man’s words.
***
You’re going to die someday.
That’s what he’d said.
Of course, I knew better than to take those words seriously. Still, they kept echoing in my ears, refusing to let me sleep.
I tried counting sheep. I even thought about how nice it would feel to fall asleep and never wake up. But none of it worked.
Eventually, I gave up and rolled out of bed.
I stumbled toward the bathroom, where I washed my face and brushed my teeth. Then I returned to my bedroom and changed into pajamas.
Finally, I crawled under the blankets and fell asleep.
But when I woke up in the middle of the night, I could still hear the old man’s voice ringing clearly in my ear.
You’re going to die someday.
I forced myself to lie there silently, listening intently.
At some point, I drifted off to sleep again.
A few hours later, I awoke to find the sun shining brightly through my window. My alarm clock informed me that it was eight o’clock in the morning.
I blinked several times, struggling to clear away the fog from my brain. Eventually, though, I managed to sit up and look around.
My heart skipped a beat when I realized that someone was standing beside my bed.
For a moment, I panicked. Hadn’t I locked the door before falling asleep? Why was there an intruder in my room?!
Then I remembered the old man’s note.
“Mr. Kenji, please forgive me for leaving without saying goodbye,” it had said.
Apparently, the old man had snuck into my apartment while I slept.
I stared at him, wide-eyed with surprise. For a second, I wondered whether or not he might actually be dead.
After all, he looked exactly like he did in the photo on his desk. Only, instead of wearing glasses, he wore a pair of thick black sunglasses.
His hair was also completely white, which only added to his ghostly appearance.
He smiled gently as he took off his sunglasses.
“Hello, Mr. Kenji.”
I sat there speechless, unable to say a word.
The old man removed his jacket and hung it neatly over the back of my chair. Then he turned to face me directly. “Good morning,” he said.
“Um… Good morning…”
I glanced down at my watch. It was already past nine.
I’d overslept.
How embarrassing!
I hurriedly threw open the curtains, letting in plenty of sunlight. Then I grabbed my phone and checked the time. Ten minutes late.
Oh no, I groaned inwardly. What am I going to tell them?
I opened the door and rushed downstairs, hoping desperately that nobody would notice my tardiness. When I got outside, I saw two familiar figures sitting on the bench across the street.
They were both staring right at me.
“Kenji!”
“Hey, Kenji!”
As soon as I heard their voices, I froze.
What are they doing here?
I didn’t have time to think about it, though. Before I knew it, the girls were running over to greet me.
“Sorry, we’re so late! We totally forgot our keys yesterday, and we ended up having to call a locksmith. By the time he finally showed up, it was almost noon, and by then you’d left for work, so—”
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” I interrupted.
“We’re really sorry, Kenji. Really, truly, sincerely sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You guys should go ahead and start without us. I’ll catch up eventually.”
“No, it’s fine! Please stay and eat breakfast with us!”
I shook my head firmly. “Thanks, but I can’t. I’m supposed to meet someone today. If I get too far behind schedule, I won’t make it in time.”
“Who?”
“An old friend. He lives nearby, and I promised to stop by and see him this morning. I just need to grab something quick, and I’ll be ready to leave.”
“Okay, well, if you change your mind, give us a shout. We’ll come along with you,” one of the girls offered.
“That sounds great. Thanks.”
With that, I waved goodbye and headed straight for the convenience store next door.
***
When I arrived home, I found the old man waiting patiently inside.
“Did you wait long?” I asked.
“Not at all. I’ve been here since six thirty,” he replied.
“Wow, that was fast. How do you always manage to arrive early?”
“I suppose it comes naturally after being a teacher for so many years,” he answered with a smile.
“So what did you want to talk about?”
“Well, first things first—I wanted to thank you for taking care of my house last night. And I also wanted to ask how you liked the food I made for dinner.”
“I loved it! The soup especially. That was delicious.”
“Really? Thank you very much. Now, let’s begin.”
I followed the old man upstairs. As usual, he led me into his study, where we settled ourselves comfortably in front of his computer screen.
Once again, he pulled out the picture from his wallet. This time, however, he placed it on top of his keyboard.
“This is the photograph I mentioned earlier,” he explained. “Do you recognize her?”
“Yes, I know who she is. She’s the woman in the photo on your desk.”
“Indeed. Do you remember anything else about the day you met her?”
“She seemed pretty nice. A little bit shy, maybe. But overall, she wasn’t bad looking at all.”
“Thank you. Very helpful indeed. So, now that we have established that fact, allow me to continue.”
The old man cleared his throat before continuing.
“You may recall that when I came to visit you yesterday, I told you that I had some questions regarding the girl in the photograph. Well, I believe I have an answer to at least one of those questions.”
“And what question is that?”
“Why did you choose to take this particular photo of her?”
“Huh? Why does it matter why I took it?”
“Because there are several other photos in your collection. Some of which show the same young lady smiling brightly while standing beside you. Others depict her laughing or talking animatedly with another person. Yet others feature her walking alone, holding hands with friends, or even dancing with a boy.”
The End