Mariana's Trench

Somewhere, in the dark hours, sleep had fled once more. The pale light from her phone coated the bedroom in a dim glow. The blankets were too hot but the bedroom, with its open window, was too cool to throw off all coverings. A siren blared in the distance. The steady hum of traffic registered in her brain. Mariana rolled over. Then rolled again. And again. She slid out of bed and closed the window. Within minutes, the room was too warm. She tried to tell herself that she was still asleep. You liar, whispered her brain. Follow me – another whisper at the edge of the abyss. The new job loomed – more whispers. Maybe after tomorrow there would be fewer whispered conversations with herself. Shouts of joy instead perhaps as she took a different path. How many minutes had passed now? At least it was still dark out.

Mariana gave up. She flinched a little when her feet touched the cool floor. She gathered the usual stuff and crept from her bedroom, through the dark apartment, to her couch. She dropped her pillow and blanket on to the all too familiar hollows and sunk down into them. She closed her eyes and prayed for sleep to descend upon her instantly so that she would quit thinking about “giving her notice” in the morning. Whole conversations ricocheted in her skull. She had never quit a job. What would it feel like to be in control of the conversation? Would her manager be upset? Would she be sent home that day? Marched off the property like it’s done in the movies? Several soundtracks started buzzing through her mind.

She lay there for several minutes or possibly hours. She opened her eyes and stared into the void that was her dark apartment living room. The hum of the refrigerator was almost deafening. The abyss pulled her further away from sight and sound. The deeper she went, the more the thoughts inside her head assaulted her.

Leave me be! She wanted to scream. To be. Or not to be. Hamlet knew that was indeed the question. But what about to do? Or not to do? To act or not to act? To quit? But to not give up. To quit and to start at the same time. Ugh. She flipped to the other end of the couch. Blessed coolness.

To not act was to continue to creep further down into the abyss. To act was to jump off the edge of that abyss into the truly unknown. New job. New people. New routines. Newness in all its frightening reality.

The fridge stopped humming. The floor creaked in the silence. She turned on the TV. The talking heads on the 24 hour news channel droned on about the terrible reality of the world – political upheaval, wars, the pandemic, the economy, death. They were preaching to the choir. Only those people that agreed with them paid attention and nodded and shouted hallelujah amen.

The abyss wrapped itself around her. Tightening its grasp on her soul with every thought. She wanted to unthink, if only for a little while. She let the droning words drift over her like waves of the ocean . The blue glare of the TV screen pulled her back from the edge of the abyss. The talking head said something needed to be done.

To do. What could she do? When? In the morning. She had to wait until morning. Nothing could be done now. Yes. Keep telling yourself that. Nothing can be done in the middle of the night.

In the morning she could do something. She decided that she would wake up early enough to make tea. Not the Earl Grey stuff. It was too obnoxious at first light. A nice gentle Roobios tea. And cinnamon toast dusted with sugar. She would have breakfast. She would listen to some classical music that reminded her of cozy sweaters and fall leaves. She would turn on an actual light. Not just the tiny bulb above the stove. Then she would boldly go where she had never gone before. The abyss receded ever so slightly. Rejected for now. Soon it would be dawn. She adjusted her alarm, took up her blanket and pillow, turned off the talking heads and returned to her bed to sleep. Perchance to dream.

A bird sang. Not quite daylight. Mariana edged off the couch, with her blanket and pillow in hand. She shuffled to her now cold bed. Her back and neck both hurt from another cramped sleep. The couch was just a bit too short for her to stretch out. She laid flat on the bed and finally fell into the void, so deep that no thought could find her.

The alarm screeched, dragging her back from the deep trench of sleep. She consulted her unwritten list. Number one – breakfast. Without turning on the light, she found her way to the kitchen, turned on the stove light and filled the kettle. Tea. She put the tea bag into a cup, some bread and in the toaster and located the tv remote and found some bearable music on Youtube. The boiling kettle and the click of the toaster nudged her towards consciousness. D-Day. She lost the rest of her appetite. More tea, then. And a shower.

While the hot water sluiced over her, panic flung Mariana into full alert.  She stayed in the shower for as long as she dared. She prepared for work and the looming conversation that could not be avoided. She thought that it was probably good that she took public transit instead of driving to work. She tried to form sentences. “Good Morning, can I talk to you?”…”Hi, do you have a moment?”…”Umm, are you busy?”…

She arrived at work early, to catch her manager before the day started.  She walked across the empty parking lot towards the restaurant. Her toast threatened to reappear, but several deep breaths helped prevent disaster. She entered through the staff door, took another deep breath, and knocked on the office door.