By: Anthony Ward

Tom stood attentively in front of the mirror, his eyes racing over the image portrayed within. He looked sideways at his reflection from the right, then to the left, then centred his gaze as he stroked his hand from his cheeks to his chin. He gave himself a nod before walking towards the window to view what was happening in the world below. There she was, brimming with vitality, with the long chestnut hair, walking her dogs down the street. One of these days, he assured himself, imagining her smile beaming at him as he took out his favourite shirt and laid it out on the bed, before anxiously examining his watch. He anticipated the conversation he was to have with Stuart down the Fox that evening. You’re still a handsome guy. You need to get yourself back out there. What are you waiting for?

He buttoned up his shirt and raised himself onto his toes before the full-length mirror. I’m ready, he said to himself.

Tom and Stuart spent the afternoon catching up on each other, going over their lives, before the conversation veered towards Maria. Maria had left him three years ago. Tom wanted to move on by going over the past, letting out everything he’d been keeping in.

‘Maybe you need to stop going over the past.’ said Stuart purposefully.

‘There’s nothing wrong with a bit of nostalgia. Nostalgia is like wiping the dust down from an old piano that hasn’t been played in years.’

‘As long as you’re not playing the same tune,’ replied Stuart motioning his glass towards Tom.

‘It’s like how I’ve quit smoking. I can still reminisce about having a cigarette without actually needing to have one. That’s what keeps me from needing one.”

Stuart picked up his glass. ‘Well, I don’t want to reminisce about having a drink. I want to enjoy having a drink like I am now.’

‘What if you’d had to quit drinking and you couldn’t have another?’

‘Then I’d want to forget about it.’

Tom took a long melancholic drink of his ale.

‘Everyone just wants to forget about the past these days. We’ve turned sentiment into cynicism. People just want instant gratification. Always wanting to talk about themselves. The only time they want to talk about you is when they’re talking about you. People don’t want to know each other anymore. They just want to know about each other. They don’t want to talk to you; they want to talk about you. They don’t want to listen to you talk about yourself.’ Tom’s head sunk into his shoulders as he noticed Stuart checking his phone. ‘People tend to speak ill of you until you become ill. They only respect you when they come to pay their respects.’

‘You need to keep turning the negatives into positives if you want to keep your batteries charged,’ said Stuart raising his glass. ‘Prevent things becoming flat. You ready for another?’

Tom nodded assent, feeling dismayed at that comment as he watched Stuart head towards the bar. He should have been the one to have said that. He studied Stuart as he chatted to the barmaid who was not much older than his eldest daughter. He had gotten married two years before him, and they were still going strong.

While he waited for him, Tom rehearsed his response. ‘I like to keep stock of things. I’m thankful for what I’ve got, and I feel blessed for what I’ve had.’ The anecdote made him raise his head from his neck and look from side to side. ‘I take my time to reflect on things. Everyone’s in such a hurry. All full of despondency because they been dealt a bad hand, wanting more for less effort. Always searching for something bigger instead of appreciating the littler things. Once you learn to see passed yourself, to not wallow in self-indulgence, and witness the world in all its beauty, you will experience what a gift life is. Some people never grow out of themselves and remain immersed in self-indulgence. You feel better about yourself knowing more about things that are beyond you. It’s best to get away from yourself.’

‘Uh, huh,’, said Stuart, looking up briefly as Tom continued, ‘Everyone is too busy looking at themselves in the mirror, comparing themselves to everybody else. Too busy escaping into their self-absorbed fantasy worlds. Not realising that they’re already in a fantasy world, full of fantastic creatures and plants beyond the imagination of fairy tales. You couldn’t make it up. I recently read a story about a tree that was knocked down by a storm only for another storm to raise it back up again.’ Tom reassured himself as he picked up his fresh glass of ale, before announcing, ‘Life is astonishing when you think of it.’

‘Uh, huh,’ nodded Stuart looking at Tom. ‘You spend too much time reading about life when you should be living it. Maybe you spend too much time inside yourself. You need to get out of your-self.’

Don’t you think it’s time you got back out there? he imagined  Stuart asking him as he headed to the toilet. He’d heard him say that to the rest of their friends, but nobody ever said it to him. As if it didn’t apply to him like it did to everyone else. He saw Stuart returning from the toilet talking to someone he’d never seen before.

‘Tom, this is Brian. He’s going to be best man for John. You remember John?’

Tom nodded nonchalantly. I was just telling Brian that I was best man at your wedding.’ Tom raised his head and smiled approvingly before Brian blurted, ‘You were married!’ like it was the most natural reaction he could have displayed.  Tom’s head sank into his neck as he contemplated his pint. Every time Tom felt he was actually involved in the social system he would proudly strut out his head in an exulted state of confidence. But he was soon sent wallowing back into his shell with the reassurance that he wasn’t. He had to put up with Brian’s prattle for another half hour before Stuart announced that it was time for him to get back to his wife. ‘You not going Tom?’

Tom shock his head, ‘I think I’ll have another.’

Next morning Tom stood in front of the mirror and lifted his chin. This caused his neck to crane as he confronted the image reflected in the glass. You’re slug ugly, he told himself as he lathered his face with shaving cream. He had gotten up with the intention of going for a morning stroll along the riverside, but had decided against it, weighed down by the aftereffects of the previous day. That’s why I don’t like to go out much these days. He told himself. It takes me out of myself and it’s a strain to get back. After he had finished shaving, he rinsed the laver from his face and pushed his head out into the mirror. As he stood levering his neck from side to side, he could see himself looking back. Yet what he was looking back on he could not foreclose. He could not decide whether it was him reflecting his image or other people’s reflection of him that was staring back at him. He tried smiling but was dismayed by the gargoyle grin and withdrew his neck, the skin folding over itself. With hunched shoulders and back bent, he trudged out slowly towards the bedroom.

Cars sped passed in the street below, one after another, incessantly, annoyingly, some with the bass booming like a heart thudding. This brought his attention upon his own heart thudding in his chest. He hated being made aware of it as it made it thud all the more and it felt as if it was being constricted by his rigid body. He needed peace and serenity, not the run of people racing about their lives.  People should slow down and take their time about things, he thought over. Everyone’s too much in a hurry. All racing to their graves. Each year goes by quicker than the last. Soon the days will be short, and the long dark nights will return. He lifted his chin while chewing over his thoughts. Maybe time moves faster because it takes longer for me to do things, he mulled. I make a morning out of something that would have once taken me a minute.

He pulled out a packet of cigarettes that had lain in the drawer for over two years, checking the print for a best before date. As he sat at the back doorstep smoking his cigarette, he started to feel slightly nauseous as a result of having not smoked in a long while. As he contemplated the taste of the cigarette, Tom decided that he would no longer do anything. Life was moving way too fast. Maybe I’m slowing down for good reason, he thought. Notice how a tortoise can live for over a hundred years. It lives slowly, taking it’s time.

After he had finished the cigarette, he felt sick, so he lay himself down on the bed, burrowing into himself, unable to roll off his back for the next few hours until he could find the strength to turn himself over and roll off the bed. ‘You were married!’ echoed repeatedly throughout his shell, swirling with his spinning head, as he lay there listening to the time tick away. The outside melded with the inside. The barking blended with the ticking so that the dogs were ticking and the clocks were barking. This told him that the world was still going on while he wasn’t.

That following night Tom found himself watching Marty again, snuffling at how everyone in the movie kept on at him about not being married, as if marriage were something you could just pick up at the store. Tom smiled as Marty closed the door of the phone booth, but then his smile dropped as he thought to himself. Life just isn’t like the movies. There isn’t someone out there for everyone. Or, if there is, they don’t always meet. They remain apart for the rest of their lives, waiting out their evenings drinking alone in bars, rereading their favourite books in afternoon cafes. Though everyone else seem to get new partners like they were buying a new car. He felt that he must have missed out on the lessons of life. That he only got to watch life from the side lines, not able to participate in the game, as if he were being mocked, watching everyone live their lives that he would never be a part of.

He pushed through the door of the Fox and seated himself in the corner where he had been sat with Stuart. Nursing a pint of ale, he pondered over variants of the conversation he hadn’t had with him, slowly scanning the room taking in all the people at the other tables. He watched couples eating. Observing their mouths moving without being able to hear them, so that they were just organs performing a task. He could see the movement of their jaws as they ate, moving mechanically like insects. Devouring machinations operating in effect. They had lost all sight of human dignity.  He watched one peck at a pastry like a gull; another licked an ice-cream like a cat lapping at a saucer. Others ripped at the meat like ravenous wolves.

The woman from behind the bar came to collect his glass and leaned over to him. ‘Would you like another?’ she barked as he retreated his head back from her coffee-tainted breath. He breathed into his hand and scrunched up his face. I don’t know how people can inhale each other’s breath, he thought to himself, observing a couple kissing at another table. He winced at the thought before reminiscing about kissing Maria. He couldn’t recall any bad breath. It all seemed quite pleasant. But now that’s all he could think about. It all seemed repulsive. Mouths masticating and osculating, like maggots festering in fermented soup. He heard laughing behind him and turned around to be met with grotesque gargoyles of expression. He observed a woman having an animated conversation into her phone, her lips moving like an organ performing its task

Tom manoeuvred himself down the street trying to avoid being knocked into by all the people who didn’t notice him. The all appeared animatronic, no more real than special effects in movies. Then he saw her. She was walking towards him down the street. He craned his neck to look up to her, and, as she got closer, she looked down at him as she passed on by. He turned to look back at her and was knocked down onto his back. He lay there shell struck for a long while, watching all the people tower above him as they stepped over him, with his old humorous eyes blinking up at the sky as he observed the mechanical manipulation of their movements, like articulated mannequins. After the initial surge died down, he managed to roll himself to his feet and continued to crawl on down the street. When he got home, he positioned himself in front of the mirror. He could no longer see himself, but he could see himself more clearly. Brians words echoed through his brain. But this only roused mirth within him. You were married! He repeated to himself chuckling, until the chuckling matured into laughter.

From then on, he only saw the funny side whenever anyone tried to put him down. He laughed at all the people who pushed in line in front of him, always in a hurry. He laughed at the people who called him ugly. He laughed at the people who called him old. At least I’ll be older, he would say to himself. Although the ridicule continued,  his philosophy of life paid off . Tom went on to live to a very long age, trudging on through life, taking his time until time took his toll, watching others run their lives, dying out before him. He attended the funerals of everyone that he knew until there was no-one left to attend his.

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Anthony is inspired by the nature of the world and the expression of art as humanity decrees to discover itself. It is through these discoveries that he hopes to encapsulate some of this essence with complementary words. He has recently been published in, Jerry Jazz Musician, CommuterLit, Shot Glass Journal, and Dear Booze, amongst others.