Inner Dwelling

March

“Get out of here, now!” she cried with rage as she aimed at his head with one of his boots. He was startled by the throw but managed to dodge the sloppily thrown shoe.

“You’re crazy, woman! Absolutely mad!” he spat back.

“Oh, spare me!” she countered. “Go and whine to your other wench about it, you two-faced coward!”

He scoffed scornfully and cursed, making his way to the door.

“We’re done, for real this time!” she howled. Her voice was starting to shake as she glared at the image of his back, his blonde hair, his broad shoulders, all of him warding off, leaving. He didn’t respond and slammed the door, the bang shaking the thin walls of her small studio. She could hear his steps fading and the locking noise of the entrance door.

And then there was silence.

For a while she just stood in the middle of the room, her only room, gazing dumbstruck at the dark oak door. It was shut, and locked. Was it really over? Was she alone now? No, it couldn’t be…

---

April

She stared eagerly at the dark oak door, he never came in through it again since last March, but he would. He would surely come back, right? He would come and explain how her eyes had been mistaken, how he would never betray her in such a horrendous way, how he had been loving her loyally for these past six years. He would barge in and shout with tears in his eyes that she was his all, that they would be together forever.

She waited for the dark oak door to open and to see his face again. He would surely come back, wouldn't he?

---

May

He never returned. A mutual friend had driven by last week to pick up all his stuff. She had put it all, weeping, in a box and had left it outside the door. His mug might have broken when she had thrown it in, but she didn’t care, for she was breaking harder.

Her room was emptier than before. The green framed window was open and a soft breeze announced the approaching summer, yet her feet were cold and her hands were shaking. She looked numbly across the room, really observing its details for the first time in these past months.

The studio was like a chaotic daydream, not really small but not exactly spacious either. One could get lost in all the books, albums, statues and colorful relics, all carefully collected from past adventures and scattered aimlessly on every vacant board space. The walls were muddy white and their slight inclination made them all seem eager to collapse onto her. On top of the crowded dark red bookshelf reigned an imposing, golden porcelain owl with a missing eye and next to the wardrobe stood a high, tilted mirror with a wood carved frame. Her desk was organized as always, though her small kitchen was a raccoon’s sanctuary, a small mountain of empty packages and bags being surrounded by a growing army of empty booze bottles. A long and fluffy velvet carpet stretched out across the entire room and ended at the feet of her yellow sofa, which also served as her bed. A dying cactus in a flowery pot hung its head on the window sill and two fluorescent plastic stars were still glued to the ceiling as a reminder of the child inside her.

As she ran her gaze through the studio, she could not help but notice all the small places his things once had occupied, vacancies that now seemed devoid of life and abandoned. She looked into the owl’s eye and a shiver went down her spine as an aching realization stabbed through her. He was gone and would not come back. It was only her in this room now.

She was alone.

---

June

She woke up on the velvet carpet with a dreadful headache. She felt cold and, reaching for the cover on the sofa, she realized she was naked. A low grunt behind her made her gasp as she jumped on her feet, almost falling over due to the dizziness of the hangover. She stared stupefied at the male body lying next to her as naked as she was. His features were not familiar and after a moment of confusion, she realized what she had done and a feeling of disgust punched in at the thought of her drunken self sleeping with a stranger. Last night was blurred out in a boozy fog, she could only recall loud music, the bitter taste of alcohol in her mouth and the need to have fun, to forget. She sighed to herself and wondered how she could get that man out as quickly as possible.

After the stranger eventually left, the shame of her act faded and a curious feeling of victory possessed her. That stranger proved somehow that she still had it, that she was still desired by others. Standing in front of the tilted mirror, she chuckled at the sight of her newly dyed pink hair, which complimented her green eyes. She could be anyone she wanted, she could have anyone she wanted, she didn’t need him, she didn’t need anyone. She opened the windows and almost knocked the dying cactus over. The poor plant begged silently for water but she ignored it.

She was absorbed by her own force. She felt so great. She was alone and it was a blast.

He was a fool.

--- 

July

“I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!” she screamed as she threw herself on the yellow sofa and started punching mercilessly at the pillows. A raging hotness scorched her chest as she kept rewinding the dreadful moment she had seen him, with his tall figure, his goddamn perfect blonde hair, his piercing brown eyes and, next to him, that whore. The memory of the shrew’s triumphant grin raised in her an even greater, smoldering rage that became too torturous to endure. She grabbed the first thing that fell in her hand and threw it across the room. A shattering blast echoed in the studio as the tilted mirror shook in a frenzy, shedding a few sparkling shards over the carpet. A peculiar crossing of regret and pleasure toned down her anger. She shot a glance at the owl that was staring down at her and wanted to break it too, yet stopped herself at the last moment.

Breathing heavily, she knelt in front of the mirror and stared at its cracked corner, not entirely broken, but imperfect nonetheless, as everything in that room. The anger boiled down eventually to a tired heaviness. She put her head in her hands and started crying.

---

August

A loud curse escaped her mouth when the lit cigarette hit the velvet carpet and burned ardently at the fluffy fabric. She hurried to pick it up and almost spilled the half-empty bottle of cheap wine that accompanied her. The cigarette left a small burnt mark on the carpet that could be easily overlooked, yet she despised it nonetheless, especially the rough feeling under her fingers. That carpet used to be an exquisite, lively item, but now it was just another flawed, imperfect object.

She sighed and took another sip of wine, her thoughts wandering back to him and, with bitterness, to herself, repeating the same spellbound words that haunted her nights, ‘if only’.

‘If only I was less annoying, if only we had spent more time together, if only I had given him more freedom. If only…’ Holding back tears she gazed at the two greenish stars spinning quietly in circles on the ceiling, wishing she was happy again, wishing she was a child once more.

---

September

The computer’s clock said it was seven o’clock. The work day was over. She simply shut the device down and dragged her feet to the yellow sofa, where she collapsed with a loud sigh. The two stars on the ceiling were pale and heartsick and the walls seemed narrower than before. The phone rang loudly, it was her friend calling again. She let it ring until it stopped, rejoicing in the numbing silence that followed.

Talking to others was pointless, she knew they did it only out of pity and obligation, but she didn’t mind and didn’t care. There was no need to have others, there was no point in trying to patch a sore wound that had no chance of healing. She would eat and sleep and do her work and that was enough, even though all she had come to desire was to sleep a dreamless deep slumber for an indefinite amount of time. Her stomach growled, asking for food, but she ignored it and closed her eyes.

She craved for sleep, but sleep never came.

---

October

‘Is it Tuesday? No, it’s Friday, or Monday? Well, it’s all essentially the same', she thought lethargically. Work was unchanged, the room was unchanged and she was identical to the person from the day before. And the person that would be tomorrow. Where there is nothing to gain there is no need for change. She finally understood that.

She peeked at the porcelain owl and her gaze was caught by its hollow eye socket. She stared deep into it and the piercing dark echoed in herself. If only she could be absorbed by its void and drift into nothingness, where she could have peace, where she could finally rest her tired spirit. Somewhere in the blackness she saw traces of his face but could feel nothing besides weariness. She should get up and do something, anything. She should eat, or go for a walk, or call a friend. But she could not bring herself to do anything, she just stared at the owl’s hollow eye.

She should give it all up, shouldn’t she? The potential definitiveness of the thought almost made her breathe with relief. Perhaps she should do it.

And yet, she was still holding on to something, in a small corner of her mind, she still postponed giving up until the next day. ‘I’ll wait until tomorrow,’ she thought. ‘I’ll decide then…”

---

November

The first snow began falling quietly in the late November morning. The whiteness outside the green framed window merged the grey sky with the vast landscape, creating a peaceful unity that seemed to never end. Sitting in front of the window sill, with a warm cup of coffee in her hand, she hung up the phone chuckling to herself. She had forgotten how refreshing it was to talk and laugh with a friend. She took a sip of the coffee that seemed to have regained its distinct, enjoyable bitterness, and she reveled in the warmness in her throat. As she raised her eyes towards the window, gazing into the distance, something happened.

For a second she believed time had stopped.

The snowflakes stopped still in mid-air, they didn’t rush towards the ground anymore. They simply ceased their descent and floated, looking back at her with tranquility. It was as if nature saw itself through her eyes and it couldn’t help but stare back in wonder. Her heart skipped a beat as the world around seemed to exist no more and she felt something filling her up, something warm.

She felt peace.

Then, without warning, the wind blew off the snowflakes. The eerie moment flew away, yet part of it remained within her. She broke the spell by looking back into her untidy room. ‘It’s time I should clean up’, she thought as she got up and went to tackle the garbage mountain in the kitchen.

---

December

The dark oak door, decorated with mistletoe, was locked. Only the dim light of the street lamps, passing through the green framed window, cast dim shadows on the velvet carpet. The smell of freshly cooked gingerbread from the neighbors travelled its way through the air vent to her room and the small, plainly decorated Christmas tree resided next to the yellow sofa. Colorful tinsel decorated the shelves and a red sock hung on the wardrobe’s doorknob. The room was empty.

She was gone that evening.

She was somewhere else, with her family, talking, singing, laughing, being loved. 

---     

January

Panting heavily, she reached for the bottle of water next to the yellow sofa. Exercising could be a real pain, but she had to endure it, especially after the ravenous feast from Christmas and New Year’s. She peeked at the newly glued poster on the wall, filled up in colorful markers with her workout and nutrition program. She didn’t usually believe in all the “New Year, New Me” nonsense, but now that she thought about it, a big scoop of declared motivation was exactly what she needed. And thus she had decided, reluctantly at first, to go for a slow-paced lifestyle change.

She got up and laughed at herself as she almost tripped over from exhaustion. She picked up the bottle with the remaining water and poured it into the flowery pot of the cactus. On her way to the bathroom, she glanced at the owl and its empty eye. Deciding it was time it got filled, she would go out that afternoon and look for a replacement in antique shops.

---

February

She didn’t know cactuses could grow flowers until her own grew a delicate, pink one. She stroked it gently as her thoughts wandered back to the dark-haired man she had met the day before.

She frowned. It was probably nothing between them. However, they had laughed a lot. But they were just friends. Although, he had seemed eager to ask for her number and even had messaged her that morning. A giggly feeling grew in her stomach, something she hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. Something resembling uneasiness immediately followed as she wondered if she was ready to open herself up again, only to be awaited at the end of the path by that tormenting agony once more. A shiver went down her spine as the dim memory of him popped up at the back of her mind. She shrugged and dismissed it, he no longer had control.

Despite the worry in her mind, she decided not to take it all so seriously. Instead, she picked some golden, sparkling glue and a brush, dragged a chair in front of the chipped mirror and started meticulously filling up the cracks in its corner. She tried to concentrate solely on her craft but her thoughts kept flying back to the dark-haired man, wondering what his warm, strong hand would feel like wrapped around hers.  

---

March

The room seemed bigger as the warm light flooded through the green framed window. How she had waited for spring! She put on her favorite, flowery dress while humming a cheerful tune and, excited for her date, did a dance in front of the mirror. Its once chipped corner was now fixed, she could still see the cracks, but they were glued back together in a golden tint, which made it all the more charming. Eventually, paying attention not to throw down the cactus and its gentle flower, she closed the window, took her purse and a jacket hurriedly and passed by the dark-red bookshelf, where the porcelain owl watched her with its newly acquired fair marble eye.

Although she opened the dark oak door to leave, she stooped suddenly in her tracks and glanced back into the room. A fuzzy feeling of belonging overwhelmed her, she didn’t feel that she was leaving, but rather that, after an arduous journey, she finally arrived in the place where her being resided.

A genuine smile flowered on her face as she couldn’t help but tell herself loudly, proudly, and with love: “Welcome home!”