There’s very little of their lives left here now.
Most of the artwork is gone. And the furniture. The rugs. Their things have been given to friends. To charities. Thrown away. Yes, a desk, some chairs, a table, and some empty file cabinets remain, but they will soon be gone.
The condominium is mostly empty. It is time to leave Ottawa, probably for the last time.
1. Good Night
On the night before, I stood at the small, south-facing window in the bedroom and looked out on the night. Low rain clouds hung overhead. The lights of the city glimmered. The silhouette of downtown and Parliament Hill rose up from the river. Somewhere to the south, there were airliners being cleared for takeoff. A car honked in the distance. A bus pulled away from a bus stop. Some people walked on the sidewalks.
Years ago, the boy stood at this window on a snowy, winter day watching for me to come back from a run. I had gone south, doing my best to get a workout without slipping on the ice and snow. And as I came back, I looked up at the eleventh floor and saw his eager face peering out. I will treasure that memory of him in this place for the rest of my life.
Now it was I who was looking out that window.
“Goodbye,” I said to no one.
2. Good Morning
On the last morning, a shrieking alarm went off in the early morning before the sun rose.
I stumbled out of bed to a box on the wall that I had never noticed before. The shrieking was coming from it, and there was a red light blinking on its side. I fumbled with it desperate to make the wailing stop. I pushed a button, and the alarm stopped, although another siren in the hall continued to wail.
This was clearly serious. I pulled on pants and a shirt and went into the hall where another man stood looking around.
“Is this a fire alarm?”
“I guess so.”
The woman in the unit at the end of the hall opened her door. It was indeed the fire alarm, she explained in a calm voice. We should just wait, and they would tell us what to do.
“Attention! Attention!” a voice came over the PA. “This is the Ottawa fire department. We are investigating. Stay in your apartments.”
I took a shower. I brushed my teeth. I contemplated what I might grab if I had to run. I packed my suitcase and set it near the door. After a while, the shrieking stopped.
“Attention! Attention!” a voice said again. “This is the Ottawa fire department. There is no fire. There was a problem in the pump room in the basement.”
With nothing left to do and further sleep certainly out of the question, I wandered aimlessly around the condo for a while. Then I ate some leftovers that were surprisingly satisfying, did one last check of all the rooms, plotted my route out of town, pulled my suitcase into the hall, and locked the door one last time.
And then I said goodbye to no one.