Creative Writing - 19.05.2020

Elmer by Esther P. Clarke

My finger pressed the grimy-looking doorbell. No sound came so I banged the knocker hard and waited. 

'Come in, come in,' she welcomed - all brown wavy hair and wide face.  I followed her barefooted steps, mesmerized by the swirly pattern on her wide, long skirt which swished against the wood-chipped walls in the tiny communal hallway. 

'Here’s the lounge,' she breathed. 'It gets all the sun in the morning.' 

I looked at the Magnolia painted walls, remembering that we had originally painted them beige or rather, mushroom, as you always corrected me. 

'Both rooms have expensive oak flooring.  Laminate is so much more economical, especially in rental property.' 

'Yes, you're right.'  I remembered you excitedly telling me about securing some heavily-discounted smoke-damaged oak flooring from Catford. Our flat smelled of burnt wood for months, but I knew it was one of your better purchases. 

 I followed her into the bedroom, now neutrally painted, with a cheap looking pine bed jammed under the single tall window. 

'My boyfriend says that the bed only works this side of the room because it's so small.' 

'It works the other way too,' I said, knowing that our vintage copper bedstead took pride of place against the chimney breast for the 12 years we lived here. 

On the way to the bathroom, we walked down the narrow hallway, still with the beige carpet you had installed. 

'Excuse the loud black and white checkerboard tiles,' she laughed, 'personally, they’re not to my taste.' 

'It's nice.  I like it.' I wanted to tell this woman of the many tears I cried and angry exchanges we had to make this room beautiful. 

'Can I see the kitchen?' I walked ahead, not waiting for her to lead me. 

'Of course.'  

Our bespoke beech units with their chrome handles remained.  The space that once hosted our four-seater table now had an inferior pine replacement. We had parties and laughter in this room, until that day, 3 years ago.’ 

'The garden's a bonus for entertaining,’ she said while following me outside to the lawn which now replaced most of the rose bushes you had planted.  

'How much is the rent?' 

'£1,650 per calendar month.' 

 I whistled through my teeth.  The agent informed me it was £1,500 PCM!  

'It’s London prices.  That’s why we're moving back to Cardiff.  Cheaper there.' 

'If you don't mind, can I spend a few moments alone?' 

'Take all the time you want.'  

I waited for her to disappear back into the flat and pulled out a small pot from my handbag, shaking your ashes near the last remaining rose bush. 

'It's time I moved on too,' I whispered. 

‘Sorry, are you ready?  I have to go out,’ she announced, quickly returning. 

‘Yes,’ I smiled, while leading myself out to a new life, leaving all memories of you, Elmer, behind.