Man on a couch

By Carlos Manríquez

There he is, stretched out loosely on that green couch like a washed up jelly fish on a mossy rock. I cannot see his TV from my apartment.  But the intermittent glare on his face leads me to believe he might be watching a modern music video or a fast-paced show. I guess he has varied tastes. For sometimes I have noticed an intent almost sad look on his face and other times I have seen him burst out into inaudible laughter. 

He does not entertain much. On occasion I have seen a woman cuddled up against him –although it’s not clear wether I have seen the same woman- and twice –once every year since he moved in-  a bunch of people have gathered in his apartment. I have seen them standing about the room, clinking glasses, chatting and laughing.

He cannot be much of a walker either. In these two years, we have never passed each other on the street. If and  when that happens, there will be no alternative  than to say hello  for I am pretty sure we will be the only ones out at any time in this solitary  suburban neighborhood.  When I am at the laundromat across the street I  often turn around when I hear the bell ring, but not once have I seen him come in. Either he does not change very often or he is one of those people who does their laundry at the weirdest hours.  

Once our eyes met.  I was out on the balcony watering the plants when I sensed someone was looking. He did not smile or nod. He just glanced me over and faded out behind the net curtains. But that was the only time I have seen him look into my apartment. I guess he is not as curious as I am. Or not as eager to become acquainted with his neighbors.

Before he moved in, there was this middle aged woman who did not have a TV in the living room and who would hardly ever sit there at night  -What would she sit there for anyway?-.  The only light on in her apartment every night was the light in her bedroom, and she would turn it off pretty early. My new neighbour stays up pretty late watching TV. And sometimes, unable to pick himself up -from exhaution, I suppose-,  he drifts off right there who knows until what time… arms crossed over his chest, head tilted to one side, mouth open like the tensionless jaw of an idle marionnette. And each time, there will be no one there to wake him; and no one there  to throw a blanket over his legs.

Sometimes it has crossed my mind the bold idea of walking  over to his apartment and introducing myself -not something that I would do in my country. Then I could invite him over when there is a game. But I don’t think he is into soccer.  And even if he were, why would he want to hang out with a complete stranger? Some people are just comfortable in their loneliness, or used to it, and it is hard to force oneself into socializing when there is no need to.

It looks like there is nothing good on tv tonight. My across-the-yard neighbour has turned off the TV and now he ‘s on his way to his bedroom. By the time I  look again, he will have turned off all the lights –I don’t think he reads in bed like I do. Then there will be absolute silence, and I will try to fall asleep in the dark. Will my neighbour be asleep by then? Will he be staring into the dark? Will he be scared too?