Old Mr. Ripley

He remembered the books of poetry upon his shelves at home. He had bought them during his bachelor days and many an evening, as he sat in the little room off the hall, he had been tempted to take one down from the bookshelf and read out something to his wife, but had always held himself back; and so the books had remained on their shelves. At times, he repeated lines to himself and this consoled him.

He had met his wife ,Jane, on the streets of Phoenix in the summer of 1935. He fell for her the very instant he had introduced himself to her as John Ripley. They got married in the summer of 1939 in a simple ceremony at the church he always went to. He loved poetry right from his days as a boy. She loved her husband deeply but she never listened when he read his books of poetry aloud.

After he lost his beloved Jane in that tragic road accident 20 years ago, he mostly kept to himself; he never spoke to people much; he had gone into this shell and refused to break out to a new beginning. He only kept to his books of poetry which gave him solace and connected him to his late wife, for he had loved her wholeheartedly.

Now, the only other human he tried his best to bond with, was Andrea, his 23-year-old neighbour who took care of him ever since she moved into the town of Phoenix 2 months ago. She would visit him everyday after attending college and listen to him repeat his lines of poetry from his books. She tried her level best to bring books of poetry that she thought he hadn’t read to her, for she was also working part time at a bookstore during the weekends.

But every time he spoke to her, it was just for a very short while; for he had gotten into a depression. Until one day, he entered such a stage that he needed medical attention. He had gone beyond Andrea’s control. He lived in an institution for old people till he died in sleep, dreaming of his wife. Maybe the time had come for him to join her again after all these years, for he had missed her greatly.