Chapter two : The spot on the ceiling
It's been days since I have looked at anything besides that spot on my ceiling, that vicious greasy spot that sits right dead center in my ceiling. In between fits of sleeplessness I have woken to stare at the spot on my ceiling, and wondered if it was possible even to remove it. I even think that perhaps the spot appeared with the intent of torturing me, or maybe to taunt me into trying to remove it.
It seems a ridiculous thought to have but anything is better than reliving that moment I walked into our apartment only to find his clothes gone. We had fought of course, it would be foolish of me to say that we had not had our trials, but it was a silly argument. One I believed to be so small that I didn't even stick around till we had resolved it. My last words were "This is going nowhere, I have to go to work, we'll talk about it when I get home." I left without even a kiss goodbye. I was upset, annoyed, stubborn, but fully expecting him to be home when I got home. We had been together long enough for me to assume that any argument we had would eventually get resolved, just not always right at that moment.
Work took my mind off things and I drove home fully expecting to see him sitting on the chair with that "we need to fix this" look. I dragged my feet going upstairs to our apartment, rehashing my arguments in my head. I would stand my ground I thought to myself as I turned the key in the door and held my breath. Nobody inside waiting for me I saw as I walked about the rooms. I exhaled as I threw myself on the couch and turned on the TV. He had gone out, he had left to cool off, he had gotten irritated waiting for me, all these things passed through my mind as I drifted off to sleep on the couch. I was tired and figured he would wake me when he got home, so we could talk.
When I woke up it was dark outside and I estimated I had been asleep a long time, he hadn't woken me. I walked over to the bedroom to see if he come home and just gone straight to bed, but there was no one there. The bed didn't look disturbed at all, but through the darkness of the room I was able to notice a glow coming from beneath the closet door. I hadn't noticed it before and slowly pushed open the door. I could feel the anxiety hit me before the realization did. I just stood at the doorway staring in at the vast emptiness that stared back at me. I don't remember now if I cried immediately, but I probably didn't. I just remember staring, noting that it had been a long time since I had noticed the whiteness of the paint in the closet. After a infinite feeling 10 minutes I sat on the bed.
I could not tell you in what order I began to grieve, or how I ever managed to remove my clothes or crawl into bed. At some point it must have happened though because now I am naked as a jaybird beneath the covers, naked and plotting vengeance against that greasy brown spot on my ceiling. I know my family has called, I have heard their voices through my answering machine, each message left more desperate than the last. My friends called, coerced, threatened, and attempted to blackmail me out of my comatose situation, all via messages on the machine, until the messages maxed out and now there is just silence. I am expecting the swat to break down my door any day. I imagine they yell at me and yank me from bed at the behest of my family, only to find that this all began with an empty closet. It was only an inane argument I will tell them, I didn't even stick around for the end. It feels like it has been months, but it has only been days, and they will laugh at me for being so weak, and leave their bill on the table. My family will be there crying, being dramatic. my friends will be there, informing me that I am dramatic. It was really just a silly argument I will tell them, and now the closet is empty.
"NOW THE CLOSET IS EMPTY!!!" I scream at no one in the room, "IT WAS JUST A STUPID ARGUMENT!!" I jump up and yell at the walls. "WHY WON'T YOU ANSWER MY CALLS!!" I yell at the indent of his body that stills lies on his side of the bed.
I get up and run over to the closet and throw open the door, "YOU PROMISED ME FOREVER!" I shriek into the emptiness of the closet. I wait a moment, as if the closet will answer, then collapse into a heap inside the void darkness.
"I don't even remember why we were fighting" I say apologetically to the hangers still dangling on the rod. I would cry but I don't even have the energy for the tears. I just stare into the darkness.
I can't recall how long I had been there when the hand on my shoulder pulled me out of my daze.
"Get up Charlie," I knew it was David, his best friend. I knew it was him because he was the only one with a key to our apartment, but I never looked up to acknowledge him. I got up slowly and shuffled even slower over to the bed. I laid down as I felt the warmth of the blankets envelop me as David tucked me in, my heavy head resting on the pillows. My body that seemed so heavy just a moment ago seemed to melt into the sheets as my mind slowly went fuzzy, then gray. The last thing I remember was asking David if he saw that spot on the ceiling.
"Yeah" he whispered as he turned to leave the room, "why?"
"Because.... never mind, It's not important anymore." and my mind went black.
YOU ARE READING
Forgetting CharlotteGeneral Fiction
When Charlottes fiancé unexpectedly walks out of her life, she struggles to pick up the pieces. While trying to convince her boss to pick her over a new rival for her dream job, and trying to get her ex-fiance's best friend to reveal the secret she...