Midnight Clamor

The clamoring finally stopped after the crescendo. I don’t even want to check my phone, I know I’ll have to get ready in a couple of hours—literally, a couple. It’s pitch black in my room and all I’m focusing on now is how uncomfortable I physically feel. You know how sometimes you move in your sleep but your shirt doesn’t move with you and the fabric lumps up in one area then you kind of have to pop yourself up in the air for a split second and quickly pull it in place? That was me in that moment, and then came the lovely smell of bacon. No french toast today, I guess. I made another effort to get comfortable and realized one of my socks was only on halfway. Now I’m deciding whether to rip off the covers and start my day already. I hear indie-pop music playing and that’s it, I’m wide awake—slowly but surely turning to an upright position. I lift the covers aside and swing my legs off the bed. “Today is going to be a great day,” I say to myself in the absolute pitch-black darkness. I hastily take off both socks and take a deep breath. Be nice, Joe. 

I reach down to roll the bottom of my pajama pants up because a decade ago I spent the night at a friend’s house and borrowed their pjs and I still wear them all. the. time. They are one size too big and a few inches too long but they are the comfiest bottoms I’ve ever worn.

My attention is pulled in the direction of another clamor and I stand up to follow it. I feel for the light switch in my closet, turn my head away and flick it on. I need a gradual introduction to light in this situation. As I walk through the hallway, I see the glow of the kitchen light at far end of it. I pass by Eloise’s room and eye her variegated Monstera. I remember when she brought it home and calculated its placement so it could receive precisely the amount of sunlight it needed. I’ve never cared for plants and don’t plan to but I can admire them from afar.

“Hey, pass me a plate, will you?” I ask Raul as I enter the kitchen. He pulls one from the cabinet he’s leaning in front of. 

“Good morning sunshine,” he says as he passes it to me. I answer with a mild smile and take a slice of bacon from his plate.

“Why can’t you all buy real bacon?” I asked as I took a seat at the kitchen island.

“Why can’t you?” he replied. 

I have a confession to make and it’s going to sound terrible, but I’ll explain, don’t judge me. I’ve only bought groceries once since I moved in. In my defense, I have offered! Honestly though, there’s been no need—every time I get home from class the kitchen is fully stocked. I don’t know who stocks it, it’s just like magic and I’m not going to question it. However, I am the ideal roommate in every other sense, I promise. 

“Don’t you dare!” Priscilla cut in. 

(I told you!)

“Thank you both for the lovely wake-up call, as per usual. I’ll remember you fondly after my involuntary midday nap.”

“More bacon?” Raul offered. 

“I think I’ll move on to the pancakes. Why do you all get home so late anyway? It’s almost 4am.”

With a cheek full of food, Raul responded, “Top secret missions, you know?”

“Ohh. Well don’t worry, your top secret super classified assignment is safe with me. If I’m ever questioned, I pinky promise to act like I have no idea who you are.”

“The lab is just really understaffed, and we have deadlines,” said Priscilla, cheek sans food. 

“Looks like fun, I’d like to see it sometime,” I said, pointing to their muddied lab coats with my chin.

“We’ll take you soon! But really, are you sure you don’t want any more bacon?” Priscilla asked. 

“Nope, I’m good with this and some coffee.”

She shrugged and grabbed the last few slices off the plate at the center of the island.

Raul finished eating and started transferring the dirtied plates and pans into the dishwasher. I gulped down the last of my pancakes, passed him my plate, and headed toward the pantry to grab fresh coffee beans. I will most likely need a fair amount of cups made today, especially considering my 3-hour lecture is at 5pm. I could assign the students a group project and cut it short but that wouldn’t feel right. 

I set up the drip coffee and stare at it while it does its thing. 

Priscilla turns down the volume on her speaker and they both begin to gather their stuff.

“The best to ya today!” Raul says, reading the tiredness on my face as he heads toward the staircase next to the hallway.

“We’ll see you soon!” Priscilla says following him. 

“See you later!” I say, pouring oat milk in my coffee. 

I take my coffee to the balcony door and stand in appreciation as I stare at the reflection of lights on the Potomac River. The view will be just as lovely during the day—green and vivid, like a painting in real life. 

Which reminds me, I need to finish inputting some grades for last week’s research papers on the effects of art on mental health. I remove my laptop from my backpack by the sofa, walk into the office, close the door and get to work. 

What is that noise? Again?! Don’t these people ever get any sleep?

I leave the office and march upstairs. I have to set some boundaries here.

I reach for the rail to help propel myself quickly up the steps but the rail is slippery. I break my fall with my forearms on the staircase. Did I really just fall?

I instinctively reach for the rail and fall again. I don’t move this time. I can’t. My arms won’t cooperate. Heat runs through my body as panic sets in. I try to wiggle my fingers but they don’t move either. 

I’m now simultaneously panicking and trying to decide how I’m going to live with this situation. How much independence will I insist on and to what extent will I allow others to help me?

For someone who teaches psychology and anthropology for a living, you would think I would have my wits about me. (Since when do I even say, ‘wits about me’?) How could I let myself get riled up so fast? The sleep deprivation must be clouding my judgement. 

A burning sensation spreads from behind my neck. Oh no. 

I don’t even have family here that can help me.

Eloise turns the corner with a towel on her head. She spots me and rushes to my side. 

“Are you ok?! What happened Joe?!”

I’m speechless, this is too much. I didn’t move across states just to get here. 

Eloise taps my legs and looks relieved at their reaction. She studies me from head to toe then leaves and comes back with a large thick blanket. She taps my legs one more time to make sure they’re ok to move and then carefully adjusts me over onto the blanket. 

I’m sitting against the wall, arms limp on each side of me. 

“I’m going to call the paramedics. Do not move.”

“No, you’re not,” Priscilla says as she takes the phone from Eloise’s hand, “You can’t Eloise, you know that.”

“Ok, we need to take her to a hospital then.”

“You know we can’t do that either.”

“Well we can’t just leave her like this!” Eloise yells revealing sincere concern.

Priscilla kneels down to my eye level, “Blink once for yes and twice for no. Is it bearable?”

I close my eyes to measure the sensation—or lack thereof. My concern was unbearable, but the pain was. 

I opened my eyes and blinked once. 

I notice Raul standing a few steps behind them. 

“Get her to the lab,” Priscilla instructs. 

Raul approaches me with a kitchen towel, “It’s ok,” he says and secures it around my eyes. 

At this point, wherever they are taking me, hopefully I can at least nap on the way.