The Inner Mirage

Trigger warning. Explicit violent and sexual language.

The Inner Mirage

Lately, I’ve been feeling out of sorts, like I cannot relate to anyone--or maybe the world can’t relate to me. I’ve grown to love being alone, barely leaving the comfort of my apartment—a safe space where, if I choose to, I am free to plot world assassination with impunity.

Years of disillusionment and struggle are a preamble to a life where I can go weeks without interacting with a soul. I merrily vegetate in a world of my creation, dodging unimpressive interactions with the rest of the human species. Just the thought of it brings me to an orgasm. Bliss!

Alas, all good things must end. My phone alarm is a stark reality reminder:

Dentist appointment. Monday, December 2, 10:00 a.m.

Cursed receding gums, forcing me out into this human safari. Resigned, I dress accordingly. All in black with a whiff of vanilla perfume—a sweet-scented two-legged specter.

Striding through the jungle asphalt on my way to the dentist’s office just a few blocks down, my eyes wince at the scorching daylight, the brightness now unfamiliar. I appreciate the stillness of my quiet neighborhood as I breathe in the cleansed air.

As the clinic looms into view, I question whether I should have looked for a less qualified dentist who chats nothing at all. Is it too high a price to pay to continue living in one’s reverie? This will have to do for now. Here goes nothing.

The doorbell screeches and echoes indifference. It’s a one-man shop and nothing stirs within, as I imagine Dra. Murjani packing some poor patient’s molar with that foul-smelling unguent.

Five minutes of courtesy later, the buzzer announces yet again that I am by the front door. Before resorting to knocking, I press my ear against the door. Not even her forgettable music selection can be heard through the slithers. Pounding would be taking things too far, so after a few polite knocks, I turn on my heels and leave.

You’d think she would have given me a heads-up, I mumble to myself, rounding the building in the hopes of stumbling into a neighbor for some explanations. Where are people when you actually do need them?

Screw this! I’m having my first barista-made coffee in weeks, deciding to scoot towards Tobias, a decent coffee shop just a metro stop away. I should be livid at her no-show, my mental chatter is riled up again.

Descending the subway two at a time, I stride into the vestibule. Then I freeze. The only city cacophony I knew was dead upon arrival. Instead, a space devoid of life engulfed me, in what otherwise should have been a people-packed-rush-me-to-work metro station.

As my mind scrambles for logic, backtracking with mental calculations, I’m suddenly thrown another variable. I have not crossed paths with anyone since leaving the apartment and, in confirmation, my dentist never showed up.

Ushering myself further into the metro station with nothing but flickering fluorescent lights to unfold my path, empty platforms lay ahead, welcoming abandoned commuter trains with doors ajar, as if about to close and embark onto their next destinations.

What the hell?!, peeking into the train, greeted only by my multiple reflections mirroring my every movement. If something was up, I would have heard about this on socials or in the news, I argue with myself. Panic-stricken and breathless, I rush out of the station with the solution—Mom, text Mom!

Mom! Where is everyone? There isn’t a single soul out here in the street!!!!!! What’s going on? Is everyone ok?

Message not sent

What do you mean, message not sent?? What on earth??

As if having been shrouded by blurred vision all along, a sharp image emerges. Before me, the city landscape was barren, as if the cars, buses, and pedestrians had earlier been tucked neatly away into some dainty shoe box. Streetlights regulating the flow of nothing.

In frantic search for a human soul, whirling litter and piling sundry of discards are the only passersby. Lines of empty cars are parked, some with the trunks wide open, others with all of the doors and windows left swaying open.

Where is everyone? Is my family safe? Suddenly remembering and bent over with guilt, slapping the palm of my hand onto my forehead, It’s Mom’s birthday today. In a drum-roll fashion, I would always greet her on the days leading up to her birthday... until this year.

A glimmer of awareness cracks a lid into my trance. Were they celebrating in another country without me?—looking up to the skies for answers. More faces flash in my mind. Poor ‘ol Aunt Matilda, all she wanted was for someone to listen to her recycled stories on her life before the war. And I never even bothered to humor her.

And Mom? I have brushed her off as many times as she’s tried to reach out, knowing that she only means well, and that all she wants is for me to connect with someone outside of myself.

A gust, parking a summer hat in front of me, interrupts my derailed thoughts. I relish my only interaction for the day, a windy salute. As if in acknowledgment, I slip the hat on, remembering one of my childhood favorite characters, Winnie the Pooh. He too had a hat, a thinking hat.

Think. Think. Think. Drawing a blank, my feet and my thinking hat lead the way with the same backdrop, a desert for a city, uninhabited buildings nothing but illusory oases. My only companions, the sun flowing on my skin and the air circulating for my consumption.

Minutes or hours later – who knew – I was stepping into one of the galleries of the city museum. Artworks speaking to me louder than words could ever muster. With heightened senses and the parquet to myself, feeling belittled by the grandness of the masters, I knelt entranced before them.

Paintings with scenes of friends at parties, gatherings by the park, or just intimate encounters, all came to life—images swirling out of the canvases, conversations no longer imaginary spilling out intertwined, and voices mingled.

All becoming too noisy to bear, the images meshed up, bleeding into one another and the atmosphere suffocating, “Enough!!”, I scream. Even with my eyes shut tight, I can sense the disbelief in their stares, their nods of disapproval, and their subdued resentful chatter.

“I’m sorry, this is all my doing, I know. I know!”, was my only defense.

I missed them all, friends, family, and even foes. Mom, Anita, Mitsy, Steve, Charly, Ashton, Angel… and the whole lot of you.

I thought of my last conversation with Ashton, how his dry sense of humor just tickled every bit of me, and yet, we both took each other’s availability for granted, squandering precious moments as if we would both live forever.

My head spinning and overwhelmed with exhaustion, I drag myself towards the bench parked in the middle of the gallery. Thinking hat on and slouching, I cry. I cry until I have nothing left to reminisce. My tears create a current that drowns me in a vortex of my creation and soon, a hypnotic drowsiness takes over.

******************

A loud rumble jolts me awake. That’s it, I’m done for it. Something is falling and crashing into me, finally putting an end to this new miserable way of life. Bracing myself for my demise, I crack open an eye, expecting sudden death by impact.

Instead, I find myself lying on my apartment sofa, faced with my pooch’s inquisitive stare, probably startled by my scandalous stomach grumbles. Without even a second thought, I scramble for my phone, shrieking in elation, Signal!

I shakily manage to call Mom. “Mom? Is that you?!

“Of course it is honey, who else would it be?”

“Oh, Mom, oh Mom,” I emotionally manage to say. “I’m so sorry I missed your birthday. Happy birthday!”

“What are you talking about, honey? My birthday is tomorrow! You’re too cooped up in your own apartment and living in your own shell. I’ll see you tomorrow for my birthday lunch celebration. Oh, and by the way, I invited some of your friends over. I figured, that way, you’d get to see them. It will do you good.”

Stifling back a container load of happy tears, I voiced out the biggest “THANK YOU MOM, I LOVE YOU!” I could manage. I hadn’t said I love you to her in years, always assuming that she just knew.

“I’ll be early tomorrow. I can’t wait! Bye, Mom.”

Plopping back into the sofa, and letting out a colossal sigh of relief, something catches my attention atop the coffee table. A summer hat. Had it been there all along? I grab hold of it and place it on my head. Think. Think. Think.