by Inmon, Shawn
Charles considered making a trip to Safeway to buy everything he needed to cook the two meals he knew how to make, but he felt tired and decided to eat a frozen meal instead.
He had just sat down to eat when there was an urgent pounding on his door.
No one had ever pounded on his door in all the years he lived there. In fact, aside from people trying to sell things, no one had ever even knocked on his door.
The pounding continued and Charles hurried to unlock the door.
He opened the door without going through his unlocking routine. Moondog was standing outside, bouncing from foot to foot as though he needed to use the bathroom.
“Charles! Can I use your phone? My place is on fire and I can’t get to the phone to call the fire department!”
Charles stood aside and pointed to the phone in the living room. “Right over there.”
Moondog ran into the condo, picked up the phone and dialed rapidly. He shouted into the receiver.
“My condo is on fire! Covington Arms, on Spring Street. My unit is on the third floor, number 304.”
While Moondog was on the phone, Charles picked up one of his two fire extinguishers. He kept a small one in the kitchen, which would have been enough for almost anyone. Charles was not just anyone when it came to preparedness, however, so he had a second, much larger extinguisher in his hall closet.
By the time he had retrieved both of them, Moondog was off the phone. Charles handed him the smaller extinguisher and said, “Let’s see what we can do. These condos are susceptible to fire, but it will be hard and time consuming for the fire department to get any equipment up the stairs. We might be able to put it out before they get here.”
Moondog took half a step back. “I didn’t even know if you’d let me in to use your phone. Thanks, Charles.”
As soon as they stepped into the hall, they saw dark smoke billowing out from Moondog’s place.
“It started in the kitchen!” Moondog shouted.
Charles cautiously pushed Moondog’s front door open and looked inside. All the smoke was billowing from the kitchen on Charles’ right when he opened the door. There was an incredible amount of smoke, but the heat wasn’t overpowering yet.
Charles stepped inside the condo, followed closely by Moondog. They both removed the pins from the extinguishers and pointed them toward the kitchen. Flames were still leaping up from the stove and had caught the cupboards above on fire. The flames had spread to the drop-ceiling and other cupboards as well.
Moondog stepped forward and pointed the extinguisher at the hottest spot—the stovetop itself. He poured foam over the leaping flames there.
Charles stepped around him and aimed his own extinguisher up at the cupboards and false ceiling.
Slowly, the foam overtook the flames, although smoke continued to pour out of the kitchen.
Convinced that the worst of the fire was out in the kitchen, Charles turned toward the dining room. The wallpaper had curled and turned brown, but the flames hadn’t managed to spread that far. To make sure they didn’t, Charles turned another blast toward the joining wall, covering it in foam.
He continued on into the living room. No sign of flames there, but the roiling clouds of smoke had reached everywhere. Noxious fumes and black smudge marks had reached into every corner.
Charles hurried back to the kitchen and found Moondog emptying the last of his extinguisher into the ceiling.
Sweat poured off both of them, as the fire had raised the temperature in the kitchen to well over a hundred degrees.
Moondog wiped the sweat off his forehead with a kitchen towel, then blanched. “My god, that stinks. This entire place is going to be uninhabitable.” He turned to look at Charles. “Man, I don’t know what I would have done without you. I was in a panic. I couldn’t get to the phone or my little fire extinguisher under the sink. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t helped. The whole place might have gone up.”
“And taken the whole building with it, possibly. What started this?”
Moondog looked shame-faced. Charles recognized it as the same expression he’d had when the Port Authority officer had told him he was going to search his bag.
“It’s embarrassing, and completely my own fault. I put some oil on to heat. I turned the heat up high to get it going, then my phone rang. It was my brother, and I hadn’t talked to him in a long time. I sat down on the couch to talk to him and completely forgot I’d turned the oil on high. I don’t know how long I talked to him, but the first time I realized something was wrong was when I heard a bunch of popping noises. I ran into the kitchen, but hot oil was popping and splashing everywhere. The cupboards were already burning. I set the phone down and tried to beat the flames out with a towel, but it spread too fast.”
Moondog pointed to a partially-melted phone handset next to the stove.
“That’s what happened to the phone. That’s when I ran next door to your place.”
Two firefighters in full dress pushed into the condo, saying “Fire department! Fire department!”
Moondog stuck his head around the corner and said sheepishly, “We’re in here.”
The firefighters stepped into the kitchen and did an immediate damage assessment. When they noted how far the flames had spread and then been put out, the taller of the two said, “You were lucky.”
“Lucky to have a neighbor with two fire extinguishers, for sure.”
An hour later, half a dozen more firefighters had come and gone. They had declared the fire out and the condo safe.
“Not that you’re going to want to stay here,” a gray-haired firefighter said. “It’s not going to be habitable for quite some time.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
AFTER THE MIDDLE FALLS Fire Department had all left, Moondog turned to Charles.
“I hate to impose on you any more than I already have, but I wonder if I could ask to use your phone again? I’m going to have to make a reservation at a hotel for a few weeks.”
“I’m going to go back home. You should pack a suitcase and then come over. You can make your reservation then.”
“Thank you, Charles.”
“And, if all your good tea didn’t burn up in the fire, bring that over and we can have a cup. That will be good.”
Moondog looked at Charles questioningly. “Did you see my tea collection or something? How do you know I drink tea?”
“That’s a long story that I will tell you in a bit.”
Moondog opened the cupboard that held his teas and was distraught to find that foam and smoke had permeated every inch of the kitchen. He glanced at the teapot on the stove, which was smudged and heat-blistered.
“Tea might not be in the cards.”
Charles shrugged and went home.
Fifteen minutes later, Moondog knocked on his door, lugging the same suitcase he had taken to New York. Even though it had been in the back bedroom, far away from the fire, the smell of smoke came with it. Standing in the hallway with his suitcase, Moondog looked like a bearded twelve-year-old coming to Charles’ for a sleepover.
When Charles answered the door, Moondog said, “I hate to even bring this into your condo. I’m afraid it will make everything smell like smoke.”
“It’s okay. I wouldn’t leave it out in the hall. Bring it in.”
Moondog carried his suitcase into the small entryway and put it as close to the door as possible-hoping to contain the smell as much as possible.
He walked into Charles’ living room and said, “Whoa. I was in such a panic when I borrowed your phone that I never noticed. Your unit is exactly like mine, just mirror-image.” He took in the undecorated walls and tables and said, “Except yours is pristine. Don’t you have any hobbies? Favorite movies? Books? Pictures of relatives? Something? Anything?”
Charles stared blankly at him. “This is how I like it.”
“Right. Who am I to say what’s right or wrong? Do you have a phone book?”
“Underneath the phone
.”
Moondog opened the phone book and looked uncertainly through the few hotel and motel listings in Middle Falls.
“Do you know which hotel might be good?”
“No idea. I’ve never stayed in any of them.”
“Me either. Well, one is probably as good as the other.” He put his finger under the number for the Hemsworth Hotel and dialed. Two minutes later, he had his reservation.
“One more call, then, if that’s okay. I’m going to call a cab.”
“No need,” Charles said. “I’ll give you a ride there. It’s not far.”
“That would be wonderful, actually. I don’t leave the condo very often. I suffer from panic attacks and anxiety.”
Charles picked his keys up off the small table beside the door. Moondog picked up his suitcase and looked the other way while Charles went through his door-locking routine.
Charles took pity on the fact that Moondog was likely in shock and carrying a heavy suitcase and so didn’t take the stairs to the parking garage.
The Hemsworth was just a few miles from the condominium, out toward the edge of town where the onramp to I-5 was.
As always on a Thursday night, all the Middle Falls businesses had rolled up the sidewalks. Beyond a few stragglers, there was nothing going on downtown.
The Hemsworth was a newer hotel and it gave a nice impression from the street.
Still, Charles could see that the further they got from home, the more agitated Moondog became. He did his best not to show it, but his right knee pumped up and down and he had his lips twitched nervously.
Charles pulled up to the check-in parking spot and put the Civic in park.
“Thanks for the ride, Charles. I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.” He brightened, as though with a sudden thought. “Hey, you never did tell me how you knew I liked tea.”
“A story for another time, I think.”
Moondog nodded, sensing that he might be keeping Charles out well past his bedtime. He made no move to open the door and go inside, though.
Charles watched him try to work up his courage to go inside. After a few moments, Charles slipped the Civic back into drive and pulled away from the parking spot.
“Oh, sorry, guess I was daydreaming for a minute there. If you’ll stop here, I’ll get out and let you get home. I’m sure you’re tired, too.”
“I know a lot more about you than you know about me. I know your panic attacks and agoraphobia are worse than you like to let on. I know you smoke marijuana to help you get over those feelings. And, that you were arrested for that and served four and a half years in prison for it. Not to mention that you’re still on parole for that.”
Moondog’s jaw went unhinged.
“How...”
Charles pulled the car away from the Hemsworth and merged back onto Main Street, headed for home.
“I only have a one-bedroom, just like you. But I am sure you would rather spend tonight and the next few nights sleeping on my couch close to your home than you would staying alone in a room in the Hemsworth. We can stop at Safeway on the way and pick up some tea and honey, and I’ll tell you how I know all this about you. The tea won’t be as good as what you have imported, but for tonight, it will have to do.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
THEY WALKED BACK INTO Charles’ condo, Moondog carrying his suitcase and Charles carrying a paper bag with Constant Comment tea and the closest thing they could find to local honey in the supermarket.
Charles set to boiling the water while instructing Moondog to begin washing his clothes to get rid of the smoke smell. Once the water was on, Charles moved half of his coats and umbrellas from the hall closet and told Moondog he could use that space for his clothes for the duration.
Ten minutes later, the tea was made, the clothes were washing, and Charles and Moondog sat in the living room—Moondog on the sofa and Charles in the rocker opposite.
“This has got to be one hell of a story,” Moondog said. “I can’t even imagine.”
“I don’t think anyone could make this story up. I’ll start at the beginning.”
Charles told him everything from his first life onward. He told him how he had felt horribly sick those first few lives and how kind Moondog had been to him, even sitting with him in hospice as he lay dying. He told him about the 1,236 lives where he had changed as little as possible and hadn’t talked to Moondog at all. Charles told Moondog how he had taught him to cook—at least a little—and how glad he was that it hadn’t been him that had set Moondog’s kitchen on fire.
He told him of their misadventure in New York. When Charles got to the part where Moondog pulled his claim ticket out and a fat joint had flown across the air, and how Moondog had scampered after it, Charles saw the humor in it for the first time. Moondog laughed until he was weak and Charles started to laugh along with him. If anyone had been listening, they might have concluded they were both stoned, though neither was.
When Charles finished the story with waking up again in Dr. Masin’s office that afternoon, Moondog simply said, “I believe you.”
“You always believe me. If you hadn’t believed me the first time, I never would have told you a second time. I don’t know where I would be if you hadn’t become my friend. And now, here we are.”
“Wherever you go,” Moondog said, “there you are.”
“I am the living embodiment of that.”
“What’s next, do you think? Do you keep living this same short life over and over into infinity?”
“Infinity is a long time. I don’t know what happens to all these worlds that are created each time I wake up. What happens when I die? Do they wink out of existence? Do they continue on without me, giving all the billions of people alive a second chance without their knowledge?”
Moondog didn’t answer immediately, but sat thoughtfully sipping his tea. Finally, he said, “No way to know, is there? I guess that’s not quite right. You say you’re going to die in twenty-four more days. I’ll know then, or at least I might. If I’m still here on Halloween afternoon, I’ll know, but you’ll be gone to your next life and I won’t be able to communicate with you.”
The washing machine buzzed that it was done with its cycle and Moondog got up to toss the load into the dryer. While he did that, Charles retrieved a pillow, sheets, and blanket from his linen closet and set it all on the couch.
“I know you stay up at night and sleep during the day. That won’t be any trouble tomorrow—you’ll likely just be going to sleep when I get up to go to work. We’ll have to figure out something else for the weekend.”
“I’m going to stay up a little later than I usually do. I want to get a construction company on the phone as soon as I can so I can have them bid out what needs to be done with my apartment.”
The next morning, Charles woke up and showered. He walked into the living room to find Moondog sitting on the sofa, reading a Ludlum thriller. The sheets and blankets were still folded and based on how far into the book he was, it was apparent he had been up all night reading.
“Not my normal style, but this guy’s pretty good.”
“Help yourself to anything in the house, although there’s not much food. When I get home tonight, we can go shopping. I’m pretty proficient at making omelets and broiling steaks, so maybe it’s time to learn to make something else.”
“I’m going to call a contractor I’ve used before and see if I can get him to come over and give me a bid this afternoon. I appreciate your hospitality, but I don’t want to have to impose on you any longer than I have to.”
Charles waved a hand, both acknowledging and dismissing the concern, then stepped out into the hallway and went through his door-locking routine.
Charles decided not to tell anyone at Graystone Insurance he was dying. The party they had thrown him had been oddly okay, but it had worn him out. He couldn’t imagine going through it again and again.
When he arrived home from work that evening, he found Mo
ondog awake and showered.
“Got some good news while you were at work,” Moondog said. “My contractor had a big job cancel this week and so had an opening in his schedule. He came by a few hours ago and gave me a complete bid for clean-up, smoke mitigation and rebuilding my kitchen. That’s the good news. The bad news is, even though he can start it right away, he thinks it’s going to take him a month and a half to complete the work.”
Charles shrugged. “We’ll make it work. After Halloween, it won’t matter. You can stay here in this condo by yourself as long as you need. I’ll be gone.”
“Unfortunately, a lot of what I own is damaged beyond repair—especially my posters, paintings, and decorations. Would you be willing to give me a ride to pick up some new stuff?” He glanced around at the bare walls of Charles’ apartment. “We could even hang some of it up in here so it won’t be so damn depressing.”
“One step at a time, I think,” Charles said.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
CHARLES AND MOONDOG took the stairs to the parking garage and hopped in the Civic.
In Charles’ memory, they had been friends off and on approaching a hundred years, but aside from the ill-fated trip to New York and their brief trip to the Hemsworth the night before; they had never gone anywhere together.
They parked in the Safeway parking lot and as they approached the automatic doors, Moondog said, “Since I’m imposing on you, and since neither of us is much for eating out, I insist on buying the groceries and cooking for us.”
“As long as you don’t mind me buying a few frozen dinners in case I don’t like the look of what you’re making, I accept.”
Charles, who had once looked askance at shoppers who meandered up and down the aisles, now became one of those people as he tagged along with Moondog.
It wasn’t unusual for Moondog to stand in front of a section of groceries and stare at them while he waited for a particular recipe to pop into his head. Often, said recipe called for them to backtrack to a section they had already visited.