"To Help You I Must First Fall Down" Part 4

   Karin lived in a large apartment complex on the outskirts of the university campus. It was an ugly building, probably built in the 70’s, boxy, brown, simple, cheap, about ten stories high. Light blazed through a few windows in the second floor and I could hear the heart-shaking beat of a base keeping time to some one-hit-wonder. A metal fire escape wound around one side of the building, and I saw the silhouette of a woman on one of the higher levels, holding a cigarette in one hand and a wine glass in the other.

            I followed Karin up the front stairs and into the main hall. As I stomped up the stairs in my heavy, degraded boots, my footsteps loudly echoed off the white bare walls.  Karin was silent in his Chuck Tailors, barely making a sound.

We walked up four flights of stairs.

            Finally, Karin walked down a white hall and dug a hand into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet, then a key, which he then used to unlock the door. He had to push pretty hard since it was a bit jammed, so when it finally flung open, he was sporadically thrown into the room under his own efforts. He flicked on a switch by the door and a lamp lit up somewhere.

            I expected the apartment to be a lot messier. Isn’t that how most college kids lived?

            But the space looked quite organized. It was small, really just one large room, split by a brown concrete half wall. One side held a bed and a large corner desk; the other contained a kitchenette and round card table with two folding chairs. I noticed one closet, and one simple wooden door leading into a bathroom. Maybe it wasn’t organized though, maybe it was just empty. I remembered him saying something about roommates, but I saw nothing that indicated that Karin shared this space.

            Karin put his keys and wallet on the table, then shrugged off his jacket and hung it casually over the backs of one of the chairs. At the sight of this simple gesture, something in my heart dissolved, something in my mind screamed HOME HOME HOME DADDY I’M HOME.

            As he walked around the apartment turning on more lights, I sauntered over into the kitchen area and gazed up at the simple pleasures I had forgotten.

A microwave. A microwave to pop a bag of popcorn, then remove the bag and run and leap onto the couch in the family room next to a friend. To eat while watching a movie, laughing at the character’s falls or crying for their pain.

A sink. A sink with a faucet to wash your hands before sitting down to a dinner table surrounded by family members and generational dishes filled with steaming servings of mashed potatoes or casserole or Hamburger Helper.

A bowl. A bowl to put in fruit, or ice cream, or cereal, or soup. To fill with tiny candies and place it on the coffee table for when company comes. To fill with little treasures found throughout weeks of summer, to place on your bedside table so you can touch them before you go to sleep.

I could feel Karin’s eyes piercing through mine.

“Cynthia?”

I turned around but still didn’t meet his eyes.

The walls were painted a pale green. If they weren’t contrasted against the brown trimming, they could be mistaken for white. His bed was made, sheets stiff and smooth, a patchwork quilt lay folded at the foot. In the far corner, Karin had leaned his guitar case against the wall under a floor lamp next to a pile of paperback novels with names like Lolita and Frankenstein.

Karin’s desk appeared to be the messiest thing in the room. Countless piles of papers were sprawled along the surface, held together by giant clips. Multiple books lay open while others were turned uncomfortable upside down.

Above the desk, Karin had taped dozens of photographs. As I wandered closer, I saw the faces of strangers. Some smiling, some making funny faces. Most seemed to be posed, but a few looked like candids. Those struck me the most. In a candid, genuine emotion is shone. No one can hide behind the “Say Cheese!”-type smile forced upon by the photographer. They are truly able to capture true moments in time.

In one picture, Karin was sitting in the bed or a pickup truck. He looked different. Younger, yes, but also just more…usual. His hair didn’t seem quite as white, and his eyes not as black. He wore and old t-shirt and baseball cap with his hair bursting out from its seams.

He had is arm around a girl, sitting beside him. She had long legs, thin as rails, one straight out in front, the other bent at the knee. Her hair was red and curly, but very tame. She wore black aviator sunglasses and had her head turned in towards his chest, laughing, the top row of teeth showing perfectly.

Karin himself had his eyes pointed downwards at the top of her head. His mouth was shut, but his lips were pressed into a crooked line, as if we were suppressing a smile. His eyes really weren’t as dark. Although it was just a photograph, they didn’t seem to have that same magnetic pull that I could feel now. Instead they were shallow. It was as if you could skim your finger right through them and be able to touch bottom. But still, they were much clearer, his emotions manifesting obviously.  I saw contentment, longing, and happiness.

I took a step back to look at the collection of photographs as a whole, and noticed that the girl appeared in a majority of them. Strangely enough though, she wore the same pair of sunglasses in every one. Strangely enough, Karin’s eyes looked exactly the same in every one.

“Cynthia?”

Finally I turned to look at him, allowing him to meet my gaze. Karin, there, today, in the living flesh. There was no lens. Just our eyes.

I cocked my head towards the wall.

“Whose she?”

His eyes darted again, the same way they frantically jumped when Polly had awkwardly introduced him to us that night. He was uncomfortable.

“She’s not entirely in the picture right now,” he said slowly, dragging out the words.

I chuckled at the ironic reply, and I saw him starring at me from the corner of my eye.

He looked hurt. I began to wonder if his hollowness was a result of this girl. Had she shoveled him out? Leaving nothing but a carcass? His eyes…it was like he had put up opaque, black screens, impervious to any emotion escaping.

But then again, she was just a figure in a 3X5.

I heard Karin clear his throat.

“So, I only have one bed here in the apartment. You are welcome to sleep on the couch. Or I might have an air mattress somewhere…I could try to dig it out if you’d prefer that.”

I shook my head back and forth in short little jerks.

“No, no its fine. The couch is fine.”

“Okay, sure. I’ll grab some extra sheets. The bathroom is over there,” he pointed to a cracked wooden door on the other side of the room. “You can use that if you’d like. And, um, if you need anything just ask.”

I nodded.

“Thank you.”

Without any response, Karin turned around to open a giant, two-door closet behind him. He pulled on a chain hanging from the ceiling, causing a single bulb to illuminate, casting his long, lonely shadow across the floor.

Then I too turned around, walked into the bathroom, and shut the door behind me