JIMMY SWANN

#35 - Dilemma

      JIMMY SWANN 

Jimmy turned the key in the lock, then the doorknob, and walked into his new room on the fifth floor of a six-floor building. A room in an old hotel turned boarding house. Maybe ten feet by twelve feet. He dropped his bag, sat down on the single bed, and looked it over. 

A small desk with a telephone (local calls only) and a small plastic plant, and a chair were set beneath the window in the corner. The room radiator and washbasin and a small bathroom shared the opposite wall, with the door and a small chest of drawers taking up the remaining wall. The room was freshly painted, an off-white. 

His outside view was of the building next door, a few feet away. Opening the screened window, he could see just a sliver of the alleyway below and a slip of sky above.  

There were pay phones at each end of the hall next to the stairs. Three lines were downstairs next to the office. Like Jimmy, some had a cell phone.  

Two elevators were mid-hallway. A dining room for the provided breakfast and dinner was on the first floor and a laundromat occupied a space in the basement.  

Few of the roomers had relatives, or friends, or were separated from them, and this was now the last place most of them would call home.  

There was a nurse attendant for each two floors. All were seniors, many advanced in age, and many were sick. More like a hospice, ambulances made frequent appearances for a trip to either the hospital, or the morgue. 

He made friends easily with those who were open to it, but the majority were reclusive. Perhaps it was illness, or they were just resigned to the fact they were in their last days and trying to make the best of it. Some were mentally broken.  

Six floors of tenants, each at the end of their road, with their stories long and winding and perhaps once glorious.

This was now Jimmy’s world. 

He had his social security check, and the “fair price” settlement for his home that the city took by imminent domain so that a now busy street could be widened. Welfare found this lodge for him and paid a portion of the rent. 

Jimmy was in better shape than most people his age. He made it his duty to take the stairs and made it his exercise routine. He would admit that it was difficult but was determined to continue as long as he could.  

He took long walks during the day down around the lake or took BART to its farthest stations just for the view. If he couldn’t sleep, DeLauer’s, the all-hours bookstore downtown was his go-to.  

After three months he was not adjusting well. He was avoiding the suffocating nature of the rooming house. How could he stay here? A wave of reality coursed through him, a hot flash, and he thought for a moment he would throw up. It was almost overwhelming.   

One late spring morning it hit him, and he knew what he wanted to do.  

He returned to his room and packed his few belongings into his duffel bag. He looked around the room once more, stepped out and locked the door, took the stairs down to the lobby and front desk where he handed his key to the man at the desk. He walked out the front door and breathed in the fresh air with a sigh of relief.  

And started walking. 

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Photo by Josh Hild: https://www.pexels.com/photo/silhouette-of-crossing-a-pedestrian-lane-in-a-city-street-at-night-3333923/