Free A Distant Shore by Caryl Phillips

gestured all around him. “This is my job.”
    I nodded. I knew who he was, but he was being a bit strange, so it seemed best to say nothing more. I thought about just closing the door, but then he spoke again.
    “Please, when are you going to town again?” Suddenly I felt sorry for him, for I could see now that he was harmless. Obviously he didn’t have any friends, and it seemed stupid to have him standing on the doorstep like he was some kind of Jehovah’s Witness.
    “Would you like to come in?” He stared at me, but he did not reply. Didn’t he want to come in? I looked over his shoulder to see if there was anybody else in the cul-de-sac watching, but I couldn’t see anybody.
    “You have not answered my question,” he said. “If you need some time to consider my offer, then I will understand.”
    Very generous, I thought, but at least he seems more peculiar than he does dangerous.
    “I’ll be going in tomorrow. I’ve got to see the doctor regularly these days.”
    “I am sorry. Is everything all right?”
    “Well, hardly.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth I felt terrible. I knew there was no need to speak to him in this way. He was only trying to be helpful, and the truth was he had done nothing to deserve this kind of reply.
    “I’m sorry,” I said. “I think I’ve just had a bad few days.”
    “Well, standing at the bus stop does not help one’s spirit.”
    “No, you’re right,” I said. “It doesn’t help at all.” I paused for a moment, and then I realised that this was the first real conversation I’d had in weeks.
    “What time is your appointment?”
    “Noon. What I mean is I have to be there by noon.”
    “Then I shall collect you at eleven-thirty precisely.”
    “Eleven-thirty,” I said. I watched as he bowed slightly, and only then did he turn and move to go away. It seemed to me a strange way to leave somebody, and so I didn’t shut the door. Instead, I watched as he practically marched the short distance back to his bungalow. As he put the key into his door he didn’t turn around. Perhaps he could feel my eyes upon him? Perhaps he was already lost in some thoughts of his own? Whatever it was, I sensed that this man was lonely and in need of conversation.
    The next morning, instead of walking over, and then the two of us walking back to where his car was, he drove the short distance, kept the engine running, and then came and knocked on my door. I wanted to laugh when I saw what he’d done, but I didn’t know if this would cause offence. For the first few minutes he was silent, and then he began to talk. He wanted to know if it was serious, whatever it was that I was going to the hospital for, but I didn’t answer him.
    “I do not mean to pry. I just thought that it might please you to have somebody to talk with.”
    I found the gloves the most unusual part of his costume. It was hot, yet he was wearing gloves and a collar and tie, but I appreciated the formality.
    “The doctor says I’m suffering from stress, whatever that means.”
    He didn’t say anything, but he did give a slight nod as though to let me know that he had heard.
    “But apparently it’s difficult to get to the bottom of it. It’s always difficult to know what to do.”
    “I am sorry to hear this unfortunate news.” He looked across at me now. “But you look well. You look very well.”
    “Thank you.” I paused. “I’m doing all right, I suppose.”
    “Do you have anybody to help?”
    “Help?” I asked. “I’m not sure what you mean by help.”
    We looked at each other now.
    “I mean somebody to talk to. Somebody to assist you with this difficult situation.”
    “Do I look like I need help?”
    “No, that is not what I meant.”
    I knew that he was trying to make me feel more comfortable. I appreciated this, but I didn’t want him to do anything more than just drive me. In fact, I wasn’t sure if I even wanted him to do this.
    “I am sorry.” He had an apologetic tone