Nowhereville

It seemed like I had only been asleep for a couple of minutes when I was woken up violently. I’m not sure what it was that caused me to jump up out of that uneasy slumber; it might have been a bad dream that I can’t remember. Courtesy of the goddamn couch, I was now stiff in all sorts of places. I stood up and headed for the kitchen once more. I was in a bad need of a cigarette. Halfway down the hall, I realized I had left the pack and the lighter, upstairs, on the crumby old balcony. I turned around and took the stairs. The old pictures glaring at me from their crooked frames depressed me. They made me think about the years that weighed down on this house and all the lives that had impregnated its walls. I thought about how people had been happy within these walls, how they had been sad, and lonely, and hopeful, and disappointed. I imagined my dad climbing the exact same steps that I was climbing now, and thought about how much had changed since then.

Have you ever noticed how houses – or even places – never change? Of course, paint flakes off the walls, and furniture turns moldy, and moths eat up curtains, but they’re still essentially still there, even after years and years. People, on the other hand, are fickle and unstable. You can find yourself in a place that you’ve known for years and not recognize it. The place is still precisely the same; it’s you that has changed beyond recognition.

The upstairs corridor looked as gloomy as ever, with the door to the balcony gaping into the darkness outside. The cigarettes were where I had left them, on the floor next to the glass door. I picked them up and lit one, without bothering to go outside to smoke it. It wasn’t like anyone would have minded the smoke.

It was only after I had taken a few puffs when I heard it. The sound carried perfectly through the paper-thin walls. The clamor of voices was presumably coming from the street, so I rushed into one of the rumors that overlooked the street. Silent as a mouse, I opened the window, praying to God it wouldn’t creak like a bastard. It didn’t. I leaned out ever so slightly and squinted my eyes like hell, trying to see through the darkness. Kari’s front door was wide open, and a feeble light was coming from inside the house. Against this light, I could make out several figures standing on her porch. One of them was certainly hers, judging by its frailty. She was leaning against the railing, and the light was shining directly onto her gaunt face. Everyone else – about 5 or 6 people – was gathered around her. They were standing outside of the aureole of light, so I could not make out any of their features. The voices, however, were mostly male. Laughter highlighted their loud conversation every so often.

Kari’s brassy voice carried up to the window the clearest of all the rest, and they all seemed to be focusing on her rather than each other. I only caught fragments of words or sentences, and could piece together the purpose of the dialogue. I listened on intently, however, partly because I was interested, and partly because I had nothing better to do. Every once in a while, I took an instinctive drag out of the Marlboro.

It was pretty late for a get-together like this, I thought. I did not bother to go downstairs to look at the watch that I had discarded by the couch before I had taken a nap, but judging by the sky, it was well into the wee hours of the morning. From that distance, and in that particular light, Kari looked once again beautiful. The monstrosity of her features seen up close was gone, and her seemingly European features were rendered perfect from my perspective. Her cherry lips moved rhythmically as she talked, revealing even white teeth. Her high cheekbones looked almost aristocratic, highlighted by the hollowness of her sucked-in cheeks. Her eyes now mimicked emotion, courtesy of the light that was flickering in them. I must have looked at her for a long time, for when I looked away, it felt like I had just pulled myself out of a deep slumber.
Without really thinking it over, I resolved to run downstairs, through the two hallways, and then out into the front yard. The only tricky part of my master plan came when I reached the front door. How was I going to open it without anyone noticing anything? I paced around for a little bit, thinking about what the odds were of them seeing or hearing me open the door. Their voices were louder now, clearer. Curiosity got the best of me. I placed a trembling left hand on the doorknob and with the other one, I unbolted it. I twisted the doorknob ever so slowly, and then pushed the door ajar, just a few inches. Then I took another breath, and opened it some more, so that my head would be allowed through the crack.

I could see the entire porch from here, and thank heavens, none of them were looking this way. Kari was the only facing in my direction, but she was looking at her interlocutors. The rest of the group had their backs turned on me. Another breath, and the door swung open completely. I hadn’t meant to open it that far, but my hands were slick with sweat and the goddamn doorknob just slipped. Kari couldn’t have missed that, I knew it. She raised her head instantly and looked straight at me, standing there in the doorway like an idiot.

Her gaudy, strident laugh echoed all the way down the street, bouncing off of the derelict houses. It sounded like somebody playing the chainsaw. I cringed. This had been one very bad idea.

“John, if you wanted to join us, why didn’t you just say so?” she asked tauntingly, irony oozing out of her every word. “Come on over!”

The moment she had started speaking, the five or six people that were on the porch instantly turned around to gaze in my direction. I once again grabbed the doorknob, but this time for support. Their ghoulish faces looked like they had been torn from a Goya painting. It’s a trick of the light, it’s just the goddamn light, I thought wildly as I hurried to slam the front door shut. The key wouldn’t turn fast enough inside the lock. The laughing that ensued from the other side of the door sounded like a hundred mating hyenas.

As calmly as possible, I turned away from the door, and walked into the living room. For the third time that night, I jumped at the sight of my own reflection in the mirror on the mantelpiece. Annoyance followed the initial apprehension and I was determined to take the mirror down. It proved impossible, however, so I just draped my jacket over it best as I could.

I then lay once again on the couch, this time determined to sleep the night and its fears away, looking forward to daylight appeasing the dark that pressed against the house, and the dread of whatever populated that darkness.