What He Does in Each Life
by Eipsita .k
In the first life he makes coffee before anyone else is awake. He knows the exact weight of the grounds, how far to fill the carafe. He does not need to measure anymore. He stands at the window while it runs and watches the neighbor’s dog move across the yard, which it does every morning at the same time, which he has come to count on. He is a man who counts on small things.
In the second life he arrives early, which is a form of respect he extends to everything he does. He parks where he planned to park. He checks what needs checking. He is unhurried. Hurrying introduces errors and he has never had much patience for error.
In the first life his daughter comes down in her socks and he pours her cereal without being asked because he knows what she wants in the morning. She talks to him. He listens to the parts she needs him to listen to and makes the right sounds and asks the one question she wants asked. He is good at this. He has always been good at this.
In the second life he does not need to be told anything twice. He understands the sequence and he follows the sequence and he is fully present inside each step the way a person is present when they have chosen to be somewhere and have no reservations about the choice.
In the first life he drives his wife to her appointment and waits. He brings a book he doesn’t read. He watches the room. He is practiced at waiting. He has always been the kind of man other people describe as calm, which is accurate, though they mean it as a simpler thing than it is.
In the second life he finishes. He is careful and thorough the way he is careful and thorough about everything and when it is done it is done and he does not revisit it. He drives home through streets he knows well.
In the first life he washes his hands at the kitchen sink, which he does after cooking, after coming in from outside, after anything. His daughter is telling him something that happened at school, something involving a girl in her class and a misunderstanding that has since been resolved. He listens. He dries his hands on the dish towel. He turns around. He is completely here. He has always been completely here. This is one of the things his wife says about him, that he is present, that she has always been able to count on that.
In both lives he sleeps well.
Eipsita .k is a writer fascinated by the quiet rhythms of daily life and the unseen depth within standard routines. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in various spaces. She currently resides in Bengaluru, India, where she makes coffee and counts on small things.
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What surprising, fascinating stuff can you tell us about the origin, drafting, and/or final version of “What He Does in Each Life”? The origin of this piece came from a single line ‘He is a man who counts on small things’. When drafting, I kept trying to introduce a major disruption or error to break his routine, but the character simply wouldn’t allow it, he has ‘never had much patience for error‘ . What makes the final version unique to me is that it functions almost like a musical composition, where the first life and the second life play counterpoint melodies to each other, resulting in a single, deeply unified portrait of presence.
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