Dark enough

It’s been so long since I last set foot outside the apartment, that the mere perspective of walking down the street already raises my blood pressure and gives me chest pain. I should go out for milk and cat food, I’ve run out of both and the cat is meowing in anguish. Chiara used to run the errands for me, but so long for that! She said the pandemic is way over, and that I have something broken in my head, but she couldn’t bear it any longer. 

So she left.

Now I almost wish she had taken the cat with her.

I know it is nighttime, but according to my calendar, the moon is full tonight. It’s like a huge, round mirror! What if the reflection of a single sun ray touches my skin? I know, I am wearing my leather gloves, my hat, my face mask, and I’m all covered in thick clothing despite the fact I have been indoors all of this time, it is summertime, and perspiration is covering me from my forehead to the tip of my toes, but I wouldn’t take my chances. Besides, how can I be sure it is really the moonlight out there? I can barely remember how the sun looked. I have only seen daylight on television, and it scares the bejesus out of me. I am aware that the TV set won’t do me any harm; I guess that it frightens me because it brings me bad childhood memories. My mother’s voice telling me once again I would get blisters all over my body; elaborating with her deepest tone of voice the many different ways in which my skin would swell, and giving me full details on how the blisters would explode causing me a severe infection. "You wouldn't like to lose a limb just for the tantrum of playing outside, would you?"

Yet, mom never said anything about the moon rays, but after all this time indoors, who can tell for sure? Perhaps my condition has gotten worse.

The cat keeps complaining. She hasn’t eaten for days. As for myself, I’m far from feeling satisfied, although I am not exactly hungry. All I have had since Chiara left were canned fruits and vegetables. At first, the cat smelled the peaches with what seemed some kind of curiosity, but she wouldn’t eat them. I think she caught a mouse a few days ago because she slept peacefully for several hours and used the litter box (by the way, I have also run out of new litter). And then that was it. There’s nothing else she could eat. I don’t want her to starve. She’s all I have now that Chiara is gone.

When she still lived here, she was in charge of opening and closing the drapes. She used to clean every once in a while. I locked myself in the closet all day long, but we knew how important it was to ventilate the room, to create air drafts, and as far as I can tell, I’m not allergic to air. I could use a gust of fresh wind right now: the whole room stinks. I haven’t opened up the curtains or the drapes because I can never be sure it is truly dark out there.

Chiara always stated I was overreacting to everything. It was pointless explaining to her that I am not overly sensitive: my skin is. It is not my fault that I could die from the least sun exposure. “What are you, some kind of vampire?” she mocked me. “If I were one, food wouldn’t be an issue, would it? I could feast on that pearl white little neck of yours” I answered. Also, garlic bread is my favorite. No, I am not a vampire, I am a human being with a birth condition, how come that be my fault? Whose fault is it, then?

My mother didn’t ask to give birth to me like this. I didn’t ask to be born this way. I didn’t ask to be born, period.

Neither did Kitty, poor little thing. I know I should get her something to eat with urgency. If Chiara was telling me the truth, and the pandemic is over, indeed, there is no reason for the shops to be closed at this time of the evening. As I already reach for my keys I hesitate: perhaps I should wait for a cloudy night, not risking a full moon straight to my face. Who knows, its white light might penetrate my Ray-Bans and my eyeballs could fall out, as mom said. My fingers move back from the keychain as I picture myself all covered in explosive blisters, and no one around to help me out. If only Chiara could come back for just one time. If only I still had a mobile phone to reach her, to call somebody.

I turn on the TV set. Good, they haven’t cut the power off yet. Chiara must have paid one last bill before moving out for good. To stay away from the screen, I face the armchair towards the wall. I just have to take a quick glimpse at the watch. If it’s already 9 PM, I can be almost certain it will be dark enough outside. All I have to do is take a quick run to the supermarket, get a few cans of tuna, more sunscreen (although I still have a full closet and the expiration dates on most of the bottles are ok), and anything else I can eat that is not either canned peaches or eggplants. Some French fries and chicken could be a real treat! My stomach rumbles and Kitty meows once again. I feel sorry for her. It must be horrible living all your life trapped inside such a small space, without enough fresh air or food to put in her little mouth. I find it paradoxical that cats can see well in the darkness: I should send her to do the shopping for me, ha!

A sudden thought strikes me: “What if I carry that big black umbrella? There is no way a moon ray could hurt me through it!” The cat and I need some food. I’m setting my foot down! It’s time to go out! After a year and a half, will I find everything too changed to know my way around? What if the supermarket across the street has closed? Where could I find some cat food and milk at this time of the night?

I can’t afford to waste more time rumbling into these thoughts. “Don’t go out, sonny boy!” I hear my mother’s voice coming from a distant memory. “It will kill you, the sun will kill you. Stay inside, you stay safe”. “But mom, I can’t let my cat die!” I answer, “I already lost Chiara. I don’t think she’s ever coming back. She took all of her stuff with her”. I’m already closing my fingers –thick, warm inside my leather gloves– and now, yes, I am holding the keychain. This is it! I’m opening up the apartment door. But the light in the hallway is unbearable. I rush back inside.

Kitty moans in despair.

“This is not fair to you, little one”, I whisper, caressing her back. “You go out there. Someone will eventually find you and feed you”. I open the door, just a little bit. She squeezes through the opening and she’s out. Out of the apartment, out of my life. I press my head against the door and I can still hear her meowing. Eventually, someone –an old lady, I hear– finds her lingering in the hallway. “Poor little thing, are you lost? Look how skinny you are! I bet you are hungry!” I can almost see them: the old lady picking up Kitty and taking her into her apartment: a huge, clean space, where the windows are open, where the moon shines at night and the sun rays warm the environment at daytime. If I keep listening carefully enough, I’m sure I’ll hear the sound of a cat plate being filled.

I am so glad that Kitty is finally safe!

As for myself, I still have some canned peaches. 

I might as well stay indoors a couple of nights more. Until it is dark enough.