I can always hear them through the walls, talking about their lives. I've never seen their faces, just names. They’ve spoken about tragedy, heartbreak, woe and sorrow, but they’ve also talked about jokes, laughs, the fun they’ve had. It always makes me happy to hear a chuckle from their little moments. I can't remember how long they’ve been meeting like that. It could have been a good few years, but it hasn’t been since I moved into my apartment, but it wasn’t long after.

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I moved here a good few years ago when I could still walk. My daughter had kindly brought what furniture had survived the fire to me and I set it all up myself while she and her wife watched with that same smile that all children have towards their fathers when they're doing things that they know they should be helping with. Then, she said goodbye, after washing her cup of tea up and placing it away in a place she knew I wouldn’t want it, and left. I never saw her again. She said she would pop round every so often, check up on me, do a wordsearch like we used to. But she never did. I guess life got in the way.

 

Similar thing happened with my son. He came around the day after, helped me build a new dresser and bed, like we had done for his new house for him and his new wife. We chatted, caught up on the latest football news, then ate dinner before he made his excuses to leave. It was nearing my bedtime anyway. He proceeded to come around every week. We would talk about the football, watch a new show of something, eat dinner, then he would go home. But then it started to stop. Something would come up, then he had his baby. Slowly but surely, the visits dwindled until he stopped telling me he wasn’t going to make it. Foolishly, I still kept one beer in the fridge for him for the following few months, but eventually, I got rid of it. I remember smiling at the label as I drank it, remembering our times. He hasn’t reached out since. I guess life got in the way.

 

After their mother died, they became a lot more attentive to me and wanted to always make sure I was okay and wasn’t feeling lonely, but after they started to move on with their lives, I started to fall between the cracks. If I was asked a few years if I felt lonely, I would have said no. I had my son visiting me. After he stopped? Yes. But now? Now is a different story. And it’s because of the people on the other side of the wall.

 

I'm not sure who they are, I've never seen their faces, but I'm assuming they're part of some kind of help group. Only people who need help go to these kinds of places with these other people. I've heard their names, heard their voices and listened to their stories, some more tragic than mine.

 

Firstly, there’s Bianca. She’s the leader, the one who started it. It was only her and a couple others but the group has grown since then, but she’s not one without pain. From the little of what she’s said, she was a victim in a house fire with horrible facial and upper body scaring, leaving her love life practically non-existent. Joining her was Luke, Richard and Julie. Luke seemed to struggle the most out of the four. Born with a deformity that I can only assume is so embarrassing and horrifying for him that he leaves it covered at all times, even after all the years of being with the group, but I think he’s shown Julie. The way he talks about it now is more confident and Julie is always as encouraging and even speaks about it herself, like she’s seen it. I hope he has shown her. Luke’s a sweet boy. He was sixteen when he joined, but I can't remember how old he is now.

 

Richard has been struggling with alcoholism for many, many years. Based on his voice, I can tell he’s in his early seventies, much like myself. He sits quietly for most of the sessions, only piping in was a joke or comment, usually being welcomed by the others before they move on. He would sometimes join the others on nights out but usually keeps to himself, mainly discussing his alcoholism and how it affected his relationships with his co-workers and family. The final member of the core four is Julie. She’s an interesting character. She joined with a spark that didn’t match the rest of the group. She cracked jokes, tried to start conversations about the latest music and books, and didn’t listen to Bianca who asked her to respect the others in the room who came here to be listened to. She calmed down a bit after that, but her constant talking was later explained when she started to open up about her life. She had been ignored by both her parents. Wasn’t allowed to have friends around after school, not that she had any to invite. Other kids would shun her, bully her for her crooked teeth – which her parents refused to fix – and she didn’t achieve much academically. She was luckily getting the job she has now. And she talks so much because she wants people to like and talk back to her, and I'm glad she has this group because it wasn’t long after she opened up that Luke started to talk with her about the topics she had been enthusiastically trying to engage the others with. I could hear the smile on her face as she talked to him, and it wasn’t long before casual conversations became part of the norm for the group.

 

And over time, more joined them. Josh joined them about a year after they started. Natasha joined soon after him. And Isabell in the same week as Natasha. The two were friends, apparently, and were surprised to run into each other. Talks about their shared lives soon weaved their way into the casual conversations. Josh was similar to Richard, suffering from alcoholism and was in heavy debt. The two talked a lot about that. Isabell was an orphan who has been left scarred by the emotional torture of multiple of her foster parents, resulting in her having severe depression and anxiety. There had been a number of times that she had had a panic attack while sitting in that room. It broke my heart to listen to the woman cry as the others tried to help her. Eventually, Bianca stayed while the others left and stood outside, talking amongst themselves until Bianca told them to leave or they were allowed back in. Natasha had a substance abuse problem, one she jokingly referred to as “the most classic in the room.” Not many of the others had laughed at that. From what I heard through the wall, the group became tightly-knitted quickly, bonding over their shared stories.

 

And then there’s Deborah, who’s been a constant victim of domestic abuse by multiple partners. She’s the newest in the group. Only been there a few weeks. She had opened up deeply the first time was in the room, borderline interrupting Bianca as she introduced her. The others were shocked by it, but Luke quickly jumped in, filling the silence before Deborah felt it was staring at her. He told her it was okay and I felt the woman’s sobs through the walls. Her pain seeping through the cracks and sending shivers through my body. I remember, as she was talking, I pressed a hand against the wall and closed my eyes, holding back my own tears.

 

Now, they all talk calmly, quietly, kindly. I'm sure more will come along, and I’ll learn all about their lives and their tragedies. It may be weird that an old man is listening through the walls of a support group, listening to their stories, some they work hard to not just share with anyone, but it’s all I have at the moment. I pray for the moment I’ll hear my son or daughter’s key in my door and have them walk in. I haven’t even met my grandchild yet. I don’t even know their name. I sit in my bedroom, chair positioned against the wall. I pressed my ear against it, listening to their words carefully. I laugh at Julie’s jokes, sigh in sorrow at Deborah’s stories, and smile when Richard helps Josh with his drinking.

 

I sometimes see their shadows pass my windows and resist the urge to draw them back and look at who I've been listening to. But I never have and never will. If I saw them, I'd break the image of them in my head. An image of a group of people, all suffering but all helping one another. It’s beautiful. The thought to join them has crossed my mind, but would have no idea how to begin. How do you tell eight people that you know their entire life story because you’ve been listening to them for the last few years because you were bored and lonely? An answer to that doesn’t come easy.

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No, for now, I’ll sit. I’ll sit and listen and hope they get the help they want and need. All of them are telling Deborah to talk to the police about her abusers, and she’s so close to agreeing. I can't disrupt that. Also, Richard and Josh have almost gone two years without a drink and Luke is so close to showing everyone his condition. I can't disrupt that. No, for now, they're fine without me there. I'm fine sitting by my wall, glass against my ear, curtains drawn. From here, I am a part of their lives. Maybe one day I’ll join them. Maybe one day I’ll do it. But what if my son comes around and I'm not here? Can't miss that. He might have my grandchild with him. No, I’ll wait. I'm not alone, I have my friends. Bianca, Richard, Luke, Julie, Josh, Natasha, Isabell, Deborah. All of them. I'm fine where I am.

 

Completely fine.