My Old Neighbor is Deeply Disturbed

(26 m) my life has been ok, days go by. I work at a convenience store, it's mundane. On my walks home i head through the city (New York),

expensive towers loom, cold and sterile. The brutality is inescapable from the outside, im sure the interior is warm and furnished. Everyone i notice seems to be a leg up and the ones that are invisible reside in the same soup of aging and apprehension i melt inside of. My apartment is shared among 4, (myself, girlfriend, and 2 others who allowed us to live there) not for free, of course, the competition to not be homeless is relentless.

Next door is an old man, i used to see him with his wife. They would walk together and im pretty sure they’d do everything together. occasionally we’d pass in the hallway and we’d wave a simple gesture. He’d smile but it was always crooked, only half his face could give enough energy to rise. His wife was old, they were probably the same age, but she withered. Time weighed down heavier on her.

Im not exactly sure when, but for weeks i hadn't seen her, id see him but alone. I walked my girlfriend home from work one afternoon and we saw him, my girlfriend’s a little more optimistic and conversational than me, she asked him where his wife was.

and i knew, i slightly winced… her question was innocent but somewhat intrusive. She drove the knife deeper when she said she missed seeing her. The old man nodded, it was somber. The lifeless hallway really amplified the situation, i kinda wanted to run away. I think my girlfriend knew at that point, before he could say anything she apologized.

For context that was the first verbal interaction we had with the old man. I assured my girlfriend it wasn't a big deal, “one day we’ll be them”. That made it worse. A domino effect, im not complaining but i was left having the harbor both, her and the awkward experience. Before i knew the old man, i had this subtle fear, not like serial killer but more inadequacy. My existence is a point of contention for his generation. He wore these gold rings, i dont know what value they held (currency or accomplishment wise). He was a white guy, like the prototype but coming from a small town ive notice….. though they look similar old suburban white guys and city elders are separate entities. The city elders decided to not slow down and find somewhere quite, a faint hint to the possibility of wildness.

One day i was leaving for work and right after i closed the door, the old man opened his like he was waiting for me or something.

‘Hey do you want to come inside for a minute”

My lord what a loaded question, (i didnt say that outloud). “Yea sure”

I was definitely nervous, i always am, but i had a reason this time. He held his door open like a butler, i stepped inside. The home was warm, space heaters in the fall, they i mean he, had a brownish carpet, thick webbing, rugs like hundreds of them, some with euphemisms and others with dogs, though he didn't have a dog. I couldnt help but compare it to my apartment, when you see your neighbors layout, it feels like revealing i don't know why. He started talking about his time as a teacher, already i knew by the pacing this was somewhat planned and im going to be very late for work. He lost inspiration in motivating his students, (he worked with foreign kids). He wasn't doing his service, he wanted to quit and retire the students didn't deserve his lethargic lessons. It may be because im pessimistic, he might have just needed someone to talk to but I just knew a reveal was coming, like what does this even mean.

He just kept going, i looked around, a ship sat constructed in a bottle sitting on a table, the paintings where the void of creativity. The television was on, but not in HD, he just had it on channel 4 instead of 804.

Then it got more interesting, his wife. He told me she died a few months ago, the way he spoke - there was a small almost cheerfulness in his tone. I wanted to look at the door but if i did it would've been a clear sign of unease. Im paraphrasing

“since my wife died, its my first time living alone and free since college, i lived her but there where always things i wanted to do”

"I loved her very much”

I remember that, cause when he said it, i thought why did he used the past tense, i know shes dead but that wasn't her choice. Im just going to skip a little bit, when he finally got up, the reveal my intuition predicted was soon inevitable.

He opened his bathroom door, what she going to be in there? What is in this bathroom?

I looked around all i saw was toilet filled with shit. Im not being funny, the toilet was strange, an elevated pad say on the seat, it was really fucking weird. The smell was intense, at this point i have no idea what hell hes gonna do, is he gonna make me eat it or make me shit while he watches. I dont know

then he said “look in there”

Jesus Christ, like i havent already, i didnt say anything, im really mystified that i obliged, i leaned forward to take a better look.

“Oh god” beneath a layer of feces something was moving

Is it his wife, did he somehow squeeze her body in the toilet? God bless her soul.

I wanted to call him a sick fuck, but i dont even know what im supposed to be analyzing. He was grinning.

“Do you see it?’

“The fish?”

i looked at him, “no i don't”, what are you going to do about it, are you going to grab this fish out of the toilet sir. (i cant believe he said fish)

Almost….he prodded the pool of shit and i saw the fish, it was a catfish. WOW.

I was disgusted and applaud....i cant, i cannot leave…im over 40 minuets late for work but im far too invested now, once i realize he wasn't violent (at least not to humans) a sense of ease washed over me. The anxieties i had went away, take it from experience when someone show you their clogged toilet, especially when there's a fish inside of it...your own insecurities seem to vanish.

Nonetheless, the enjoyment on this old man's face was indescribable. He looked at his toilet like a proud father. His smile was infectious, i started laughing and he started laughing, i almost started crying. The subtext surrounding this insanity was brutally human, after 50 years together, this man lost his best friend.

He paused for a minute like he understood the gravity of what he's about to say.

he told me that he sees his wife in the catfish…like the warm embrace of his wife is similar to the determination of the catfish, I suppose. He was proud of this. He needed somebody to show, and I happen to be the closest one in proximity to him.

It was deeply sad but you get it.

I finally asked why?

Well when he was in college a hypothesis dawned on him “can a fresh water fish survive in a toilet feeding off human feces”

When he said it outload, i felt the reality of the situation again, and i now had empathy for the catfish. Mind you the bathroom is small like tiny, and the lighting was fluorescent, we stood almost touching, examining the toilet and each other in full clarity. The more he spoke, I just kind of felt like I was in a different dimension.

This man was like a cross between Charles Darwin and jigsaw.

This was his experiment. His game, his trap. The spiel about living alone, and since college (when he originated his wicked hypothesis)..the lack of motivation he suffered, it was gone now because he followed his suppressed dream.

The final thing he told me was

“On her deathbed my wife told me _____ i want you to reconnect with the excitement of life and do whatever makes you happy”

Truth be told, that advice was prevalent to me as well. I walked to work a different person, forsure

The absurdity of life, it was beautiful, not the specifics of this situation, well idk it just reminded me that people are incredibly unique.

And my predictable routine can be completely avoided, if i had a passion or something that drove as much this old man desires shitting on catfish.

My lord.

if anyone has any thoughts, or advice its welcome.