Loneliness
by Martin Green

 

 

 

It was late afternoon. Max Silver, a senior citizen and a widower living in a Northern California retirement community, had had his usual day since the coronavirus lockdown four months ago.   He’d gotten up early, had breakfast, read the newspaper, did the crossword puzzle, dressed, checked the e-mails, all spam, on his iPad, did some housecleaning, had lunch, got the mail (nothing in it), watched TV news, checked for e-mails, all spam, watched the TV news (all bad), then had his supper and prepared to watch some more television.

 

Max considered that he’d coped pretty well during the lockdown, all things considered. He went to the nearby supermarket once every ten days to get the necessary food items, medications and other things he needed, always wearing a mask and trying to stay as far away as he could from other shoppers. Luckily, he didn’t have any immediate health problems so he didn’t have to risk going to his doctor’s office or to a hospital. The truth was that since his wife’s Harriet’s passing he hadn’t been going anywhere much so being locked down wasn’t that much of a change.

 

The one new thing he’d done was get in touch with his older brother Nathan, who still lived back in New York.     Max had had an up-and-down relationship with Nathan. They’d been pretty close when they were kids growing up in the Bronx.   Nathan had gone on to a successful career in advertising, married twice, had no children and was now living in a senior facility in Long Island. When he moved to California, Max had lost contact with Nathan. There’d been something about Nathan not inviting the family to his second wedding, Max had forgotten just what, and a rift had developed. Max had been busy with his own marriage to Harriet and their three children.

 

 

Max watched his usual TV shows but he couldn’t seem to focus on them.    He felt uneasy; something was bothering him, he wasn’t sure what. Every now and then he checked his e-mails again. Still nothing. Finally, at ten o’clock, there it was, the e-mail from Nathan replying to the one he’d sent yesterday. So that’s what had been bothering him. He had to admit it, he counted on those e-mails. He watched the ten o’clock news, still all bad, and prepared to go to bed. He’d e-mail Nathan tomorrow. He wondered if Nathan was counting on getting it.

 

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