IN THE APARTMENT (Nov. 2007)
She could not decide whether to stay or to go. Every which way she looked there was a possibility fraught with danger and insecurity… or happiness and tranquility. She desperately tried to divine the future, taking clues from various instances in her life: the traffic light was red, the traffic light was green, she heard her mother’s name in a crowd, she heard key passwords known only to her (in English, Spanish or French), then she would do a, b, or c. Seers must be exhausted, she thought. Predicting the future is a tiring experience.
She walked herself through the possibilities. If she stayed in her apartment another six months and kept her job for the same time, she could save money, decide her next steps at a calmer pace. If she announced she was leaving before Christmas, she could hurriedly pack up and stay at her mother’s or sister’s or anyone who would take her in. But she was better under pressure, and she felt she had cashed in all her charity chips with gross missteps in the past.
Is there enough charity in the universe to ask for seconds? Enough forgiveness? Is life anything but a string of second chances for everyone? Hadn’t she already lived her second chance? What had she done that was so wrong she felt she deserved no further clemency? In her 40 years, had she killed, abandoned or betrayed so many relationships that she was exempt from pardon and a chance at a new kind of life?
And so, she sat. And waited. And waited. And waited. For divine inspiration, a knight in shining armor, a cataclysm of disproportionate horror to shake up her mediocrity and propel her into action.
She stood up. Lit another cigarette. Paced back and forth in her 400 square foot apartment with the stunning view of the nation’s capital and clenched her teeth in the exasperating heat. From the bathroom to the walk-in closet to the kitchen and back to the main room. Everything remained the same. The clutter did not shudder as she swept past with indignation. No food seemed appetizing. No filing or cleaning projects demanded immediate life-or-death attention. Not much seemed close enough to the edge of doom. And so she sat back down at her chair overlooking the monuments – which in this day and age are no longer guaranteed longevity – put out the smoke, and waited for nightfall.
****
She woke up suddenly and knew what she had to do. Her lashes whipped her face with the force of her snap consciousness. The day before, the life before, had been a haze, a series of mechanical movements to please and to foresee the needs of others, including how they needed to see her. But now she awakened, literally and metaphorically, with both eyes wide open. She threw the covers off and sat up, planting her feet firmly on the ground. Her hair was a mess but the mind sheltered underneath that mass of curls was sharp and ready for action.
CAS Licet 