Dan’s bedroom, his dad’s bathroom shared a wall, and he could hear him coughing through it. So he was home. Dan would rather he wasn’t, not because he disliked his father, but because he felt his father better off in the hospital. He rolled around between the sheets trying to will his way back to sleep, but every cough struck him as insufferably obnoxious. He put his head under the pillow even though he knew it would do no good. Dan didn’t know why he always had to try things he knew wouldn’t work, but he couldn’t really help himself. He’s the person who opens the refrigerator door over and over again knowing full well there’s nothing within.
Dan listened for a while as his dad struggled to shower through his cough before he decided he couldn’t fall back asleep. Perhaps he could take a nap later. And though he decided not to go back to sleep, he neither decided to get out of bed. He lied there waiting, but he wasn’t exactly sure what he was waiting for. He looked down at his toes sticking out from his sheets. His toenails needed clipping. Naturally, this made him look at his fingernails. They also needed clipping.
These two simple observations made him realize that it wasn’t just his nails that needed grooming. A rank stench emanated from every thread of carpet in the room. The carpet was white, but the smell was anything but pure. Dan had always considered himself to have anal-retentive tendencies, so it came as a shock to him that he was only now realizing the state of his room and body. Clearly, he was preoccupied with something, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what may be bothering him. Work was work. Nothing new there. Just thinking about it made him realize that his brain required a cup of coffee and a cigarette before he figured anything out. Still, the smell was formidable and the state of his psyche allowing this smell to exist needed to be remedied as soon as possible.
Dan never enjoyed his cigarette of the day. The coffee was fine, and really, it was culprit that led to the cigarette in the first place. He always hacked and wondered why he smoked. The buzz he still got from that first cigarette always made him feel like he’d just huffed several bottles of whiteout. It always made him think about elementary school. When he was in fourth grade, a girl named Ida Fisher came in from recess with a white spot on her nose from huffing whiteout. He remembered laughing at the time, as did everyone else, including the teacher. Later he realized the sadness in the situation. But he didn’t have time to think about Ida Fisher right now. There was a smell that needed attending.
Perhaps it could wait just a bit longer while he finished his coffee. There was no reason to interrupt either at the moment was there? After all, the smell would be there when he was finished. Right. He could feel his toenails scratching the tips of his shoes. The socks helped. Dan couldn’t imagine not wearing socks with shoes, and he always marveled at those that could. This fashion statement secretly disgusted him. These people may as well be walking around barefoot, as far as he was concerned. It was a smell he could see and a smell that made him feel vulnerable. He was defenseless against the smell.
It was this very smell that was creating a rut in his room at the moment, and he had no idea what to do about it. He began to curse his father’s coughs. If they hadn’t made him so aware, he might have had another day or two of ignorance. It would not have been blissful, but it would have been ignorant, and, at the moment, he would have settled for that.
Dan was getting concerned, his coffee was almost done and he’d burned through enough cigarettes that he again enjoyed smoking. He would have no choice but to face the smell.
Dan walked back into the house, meeting his dad at the bottom of the steps. They discharge you from the hospital? Dan asked. No, his dad replied and walked into the den where could ignore further such questions. Dan stood there for a moment wanting to yell at his father. But what to say? I don’t want to talk about it, Dan’s father said from the den, reading Dan’s hesitation. With a sense of relief, a sense of guilt, he walked up to his room.
Dan had forgotten to leave his door open to air out the room, partially out of embarrassment, but he immediately regretted the temporary moment of shame. The odor was undeniable. He coughed several times and went to the window. He decided what needed to be done.
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