I Go To The Door
As a general overview of my day, I’d say I had a pretty weird morning, a very confusing afternoon, and an extremely frustrating evening. It’s not particularly constructive, in my opinion, to vent. I read a study once that catharsis doesn’t actually help relieve anger or frustration, it just makes us dwell on and indulge negative feelings, so I try to avoid it. But this was a particularly infuriating day. I woke up this morning, as one does, at a pretty typical time. Normal routine, brushed my teeth, fixed my hair, did my skincare routine, as per usual. I’m going to work today, obviously, so I get dressed for work and I make a game plan. I’m heading the Veteran’s Day event planning and there’s some routine data-entry level paperwork for a few new hires, and I have to follow up on a few interviews and background checks. I was just expecting a normal workday. My phone didn’t have service, which was a bummer, and it wasn’t displaying the time, which was really weird, but I just turned it off and put it away, thinking resetting it would fix the problem. By the time I had gotten ready and started looking for my keys, I noticed that I couldn’t tell the time, like, at all. All of my clocks were broken. My analogue clock was stopped, which wasn’t outrageous, but all my digital clocks from my microwave to my oven timer were set to all eights. When I checked my landline it was dead, there wasn’t even a dial tone. I looked outside and it was totally dark, and I began to wonder what was happening. I usually woke up at around the same time each morning, around 7:30 a.m., and early rise to start off a solid morning. I figured it had to be about 8, 8:30 now? The days were starting later, but I felt like this was a bit late for the sunrise, even in fall. I assumed there was a power outage, and that all this weirdness was because of that, and that maybe the winter solstice came early because of… global warming or something?
It almost seems naïve, or laughable in hindsight, but that honestly doesn’t make sense. That should have been the answer, that made sense. When I finally explained away my concerns, grabbed my keys, and opened my door, what I saw decidedly did not make sense. Instead of anything rational – my street, my neighborhood, hell a street or any neighborhood, I saw a great expanse of nothing stretched out before me, an inky blackness studded with glittering stars, fading into whiteness at what seemed to be the edge of the universe. I blinked. Rubbed my eyes. Blinked again. I turned my phone back on. Still no service, no time. I turned on my flashlight and shone it out into the dark, perhaps hoping that it would reveal my familiar stoop, my neighbor on the stair smoking like he always is, the friendly sounds of traffic and noise pollution and actual pollution that make everyday life so insufferable, but in a comforting way. At least if I was uncomfortable I’d be home. At least if I was in a different city I’d be lost, but I’d be able to figure out a way back. But I wasn’t anywhere. I wasn’t in a place that could disorient me, or shock me, or even surprise me.
I shut my door and sat down in my living room. This made sense. There’s the ugly carpet that I settled for because the rent was cheap. There are my succulents on the kitchen bar. There’s my lovely blue clock on my mantel. There’s the fireplace I’m too scared to use for fear of burning down the complex. I just sat there and familiarized myself with every single familiar object in my house. Was everything familiar? Was everything as it should have been? Did an alien begin growing out of my ceiling? Did a black hole open up in my guest bathroom? Did someone put up a new painting or rearrange my knickknacks? I’d never been robbed before, but I imagine this was what it felt like. I felt unsafe, like I had no power or safety in this place anymore. It was probably ten minutes after this that I realized I was panicking. I was struggling to breathe. I was tense, on edge. I needed to calm down. I absolutely needed to calm down. I need to calm down. I – the phone is ringing. It disrupts my shallow breaths, and I begin to take deeper ones. My landline is ringing. No one calls my landline except for work, telemarketers, and my mother. Whoever it is, I need to calm down and pick up the phone.
“Hello, this is Adisa Chukwuemeka speaking, how may I help you?”
“Addie? Addie, where on earth are you?”
I breathed a sigh of relief. It’s Patrick.
“I’m at home – or, actually, I’m not sure where I am,” I say, struggling to regain my composure. There was a pronounced pause on the other end.
“What the fuck are you talking about Addie? Are you high right now?” Patrick asks. “You can’t just blow off work like this and not even call.”
“My phone and my clocks weren’t working, I think there was some kind of power out or something? I’m not sure where I am, and the outside isn’t – ” I pause. I sound absolutely crazy. Or high. Which is insane. I begin to wonder if I was somehow, secretly drugged last night, dosed with some hallucinogenic and left in my apartment for some reason. Which makes no sense. This makes no sense.
“Addie, you have to know we have a zero tolerance drug policy here. We can’t have staff members behaving erratically here, even in HR. I don’t know if you’ve had a relapse or something, but you know that we can’t tolerate – ”
“Patrick, hold on, this is crazy! I’ve never done a drug in my life, I don’t even drink; I don’t even drink coffee! You know that. I’m just kind of disoriented right now, I think something very strange is happening and I –” I begin to defend myself, to make my point.
“Addie, this isn’t unprecedented. Our patient’s families have made complaints about you. About having an attitude problem, about various things. We’ve had issues in the past with you being out of uniform, about tardiness. This has to be the last straw. This is unacceptable,” Patrick says.
“What attitude problem? What tardiness? What does ‘various things’ mean? I have been nothing but an excellent employee for the entire time I’ve worked there. I’m always helping out, I’m never anything but polite to the families who visit here, I – ”
“Addie, I have your file up right here. The Dawsons have several complaints filed against you for rudeness and unprofessional conduct, you’ve had five late clock-ins this month alone. I’ll admit, you’re a hard worker, and I admire that about you, but that can’t make up for repeated transgressive behavior like this. I’m going to have to let you go.”
This is bullshit. Everything he is saying is twisted and mean and nasty.
“Patrick, you and everyone knows how the Dawsons are. They visit Agatha maybe once a month. Sometimes I’m a bit... upset with them, but never rude, never unprofessional. And I’ve had a family emergency this month. I could have taken the days off but I’ve been there every day I’m scheduled, even a few I’m not. I put my blood sweat and tears into this job, sometimes I even end up doing your job. You can’t just – ”
“That’s enough,” Patrick says, stopping me dead in my tracks. “If you feel that way, perhaps it’s time I got back to doing my job. Thank you for your work, don’t worry about coming in tomorrow.”
I hear the finality of a click as Patrick hangs up, promptly, ending my career at Unique Residential, ending my life. I’m shaking. How will I pay rent? How will I help the family? What am I going to do? How could Patrick do that to me? How is it that he believed that horrid sneering family and the lies they told about me over me? I hold on to the phone until I begin to settle. I stay on the line a bit longer, long enough to calm down, and to realize that there’s still no dial tone. What on earth is going on?
I spent my time surveying my area and figuring out the state of affairs. It could have been hours, or days, or weeks, I couldn’t know. My apartment was largely as it was before; small, essentially a studio, I live in a small single bedroom house with a bathroom, a corner kitchenette, and a small living area. I decorate the place simply, a few knickknacks, some small furniture pieces, and a few cheap pieces of local artwork. The outside was small and plain white, with a small porch with enough room for a single rocking chair. Usually, I was a couple feet away from my neighbors, usually I was near West Potomac Park, usually my neighbor would smoke on her stoop next door. Now I was in what seemed to be the void of space, and yet I clearly wasn’t actually in space. I could breathe outside, despite the apparent vacuum outside, and I didn’t feel any sort of lack of gravity.
My house didn’t seem to be floating in space either, it seemed stable and fixed at a point in space. I dropped an apple outside earlier, and it plummeted down into the void, seemingly endlessly. Speaking of food, I don’t seem to need it. I haven’t eaten since I’ve been here, and it feels like it’s been days, weeks even. I wonder where I am. Why I’m here. What’s supposed to happen to me here. I can’t make any calls out of here, my every attempt to call out has been met with indifferent silence. I can receive calls, however. Patrick called, and I’ve received several infuriating calls from telemarketers, student loan debt collectors, and robot telemarketers. At first I just hung up, but I started taking the calls after awhile, entertaining sales pitches without making any promises and making too many promises to loan collectors which I knew I couldn’t keep. Too much quiet time alone is so unsettling. I needed to talk to people. I feel like the old folks at Unique Residential, like Agatha. I don’t know why, but I feel watched. I feel alone and outside of time, outside of the world, like nothing is happening to me, like nothing is ever going to happen. I sit outside on my rocking chair. I wonder when my landlord is going to call about rent, when my friends or coworkers will call, when anyone will call me. When anyone will visit.
And yet, while this strange event was different, it wasn’t really a substantial change. Outside of work I never left the house, except when I visited family. All my friends were work friends, I never go out, don’t drink, don’t eat at restaurants. I rarely exercise if were being honest. What was the difference between how I was and how I am? I never called anyone, I never looked for anything outside myself, and now I’m living a life much like my old one, without the stresses of work. Of my job. Of coworkers who couldn’t learn to pronounce my name, who called me “Addie” for short instead of my name. Of patients who called me “girl” and thought my job was to fetch and serve for them. Of patient’s families who don’t like me, and were never going to like me. Who thought I was too loud, or too rude, or too lazy, or to sexual no matter what I did. I hate my job. Or rather, I hated my old job. Perhaps it’s for the best I got fired. The money was good, and it was fairly close to home, but it wasn’t the only job of its kind. It’s not even what I studied at school. Should I apply for a new job? Can I apply for a new job? At the very least, I can spruce up my resume, and prep some interview questions. I take one more lasting look at the world outside of me. It was beautiful, the vast expanse filled with glittering specks. They seem to move, ever so slightly, or vibrate like a million tiny gem shards or jeweled beetles, striving for some unknowable intent. And yet the vastness seems less vast than when I first looked. A swirled white expanse, a nothingness sits at the edge of my new world. It feels like it’s growing, watching me, threatening to swallow me up. I shiver. I shouldn’t leave the house. I can’t leave the house. I stand up, and head inside in time to hear the phone ringing. I hurry to answer it, not wanting to miss my human contact for the day, even if it is bad sales pitches and people demanding money. When I pick up the phone I hear silence for a moment or two.
“Hello? This is Adisa Chukwuemeka speaking, how may I help you?” I say.
“I am coming to collect you soon. Please be ready,” a voice I’ve never heard before says. There’s a small pause, and he hangs up.
I blink in confusion, stare at the silent receiver. I feel watched, like insects are crawling up my back. I look around, then outside the front window. The blank space is even larger. More all-encompassing. Larger than life. I feel strange. Not quite scared, just confused. What on earth is going on? What’s happening? I’m so lost, so confused. I’m shaking. I hang up the phone and sit on my sofa. The sofa I got with Chie last year. I wish he would call. I want to cry but I don’t know how. I feel bad. I’m so confused. Outside the whiteness is growing, getting bigger. It makes a sound, something like tearing. I don’t know what it’s ripping apart, but it’s loud, so very loud, and I’m scared. Why don’t I visit home more often? I feel so much better whenever I do. I always get like this, so lonely, so useless, so scared. It’s never been this bad before. My mom must be worried sick. Where is she right now? Where am I right now? The view from my window is white, the sound is deafening, roaring, the house is shaking. My clock is falling off the wall, my knickknacks are tumbling to the ground, shattering. The angel grandma sent me, the little shepherd boy mom picked out for me, the gnome from Dad. There’s something in my hands. I know what it is. The tiger. From Chie. With the golden eyes and stripes. I’m sobbing, the house is shaking. I so confused. What’s happening. I need help, I need – I pick up the phone and dial the first number I should have tried to call. There’s a pause, silence. I am afraid. Then, a dial tone. Two rings. She picks up.
“Hello, my dear,” Mom says, tiredly. “How are you holding up?”
“Mommy, I need your help. I can’t – I can’t leave the house. I’m…” I trail off. I don’t know what to say. There’s a pause, I hear her get out of bed.
“I’ll be right there.”
The house is still shaking, the whiteness has become blinding light, the noise is unbearable. And then suddenly, silence. Everything is still. There is a knock at the door. I stand up, shaken, still confused. But there’s nothing else to do. I close my eyes, take a breath, and wipe away my tears.
I go to the door