Chapter 1: Retention
"Memories and thoughts age, just as people do. But certain thoughts can never age, and certain memories can never fade."
Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
She examined her face in front of the bathroom mirror, both her hands gripping tightly at the edges of the pedestal sink, she repeats a mantra in her head. You can do this, you can do this, just a few more days. She then turns on the faucet, stares at the flowing water for a while and contemplates on the rushing sound that it makes. She stares for a while, then closes her eyes and lets the hissing sound of water wash through her mind. Just a few more boxes left. She tells herself as she continues to envision this finality in her mind. As water soon filled the china sink, she turns off the faucet; proceeds to wash her face and wipes the moisture from the mirror and continues to scrutinize her face once more. There were new wrinkles in between her brows than the corners of her eyes; she was probably frowning more rather than smiling. Please be better. Lexa Woods tells herself probably for the hundredth time this week. She looks at her reflection in disdain, it felt like her outside was definitely matching what she felt inside. Disheveled, downcast and damaged; this was not her usual self, as a set of green eyes looked back at her likeness. She was slowly deteriorating from life; she refused to participate for months, to connect and just a few days ago finally decided that it was about time to get up and get going before she fell into an abyss of misery. Her reverie was finally broken with a loud knocking at the door. She hastily wiped her face, fixed her hair in a loose ponytail, put on her glasses from the sink stand and proceeded to answer the door.
As she looked into the peephole before opening the door, a familiar face was gawking right back. With a small laugh, she opened the door and greeted the person behind it. His smile was confident; he is a charming man; sports a five o'clock shadow and had an impeccably white set of teeth. He stands about six feet tall, towering inside her apartment. He wore a pin striped white shirt tucked into his dark blue dress pants. His dark brown oxfords were not as shiny as they were last Monday, it was a Thursday when they last saw each other. Recently, she has lost track of time, simply observing the changing of days through sunrises and sunsets. This specimen of a man was Titus, though a year older, he is Lexa's best friend since middle school. Lexa welcomes him with a side hug and he reciprocates with a chaste kiss on her head.
"Have you packed everything yet, love? The movers confirmed that they will be here at 9:00 AM tomorrow." Titus asks as he enters the apartment.
"I'm done with most of the things from the office, kitchen and the living room." Lexa mumbles.
Titus confidently walks around the 75-square meter flat, his shoes tapping on the wood parquet and suddenly he stops in front a black paneled door. "So I suppose you haven't touched the bedroom yet?"
Change was difficult for Lexa. When she went to college, she was homesick for months, she scheduled phone calls with her parents every night. She has never been to any other place before she left to study at the university aside from her birthplace, Polis. Thus, dismantling her bedroom for seven years posed as an arduous task. She had been avoiding it for days. She slowly packed and disassembled the rest of her apartment in the last few days but the bedroom remained as a place of refuge. It was the only remaining memory of the life that she has built for the past few years. The rest of her apartment was now bare, with all her belongings placed inside large cardboard boxes. The walls simply contained outlines of previously hung artworks and the storage units were now empty and dusty. But the bedroom was unmoved, artworks and photographs still cling to the wall, books were scattered on the shelves, and her personal things were still in place. The only missing part in her fortress of memories was the half empty closet; two hanging rods, six drawers and four shelves lay bare. You know how someone may rush into your life and invade a drawer after a week? Well, for Lexa, she has remodeled her entire closet to make space for another person after a month; to give way to an entire wardrobe; an ensemble of coats, jackets, dresses, underwear, bags and shoes and now all of this space was left empty. It will be so much to fill, she thinks.
Lexa remained silent, departing to her thoughts once more. "I can do this last undertaking for you if you're fine with it?" Titus offers, sensing Lexa's discomfort.
"I can do it. But maybe if you stay with me?" Lexa finally answers.
"Of course." Titus replies with a warm smile.
With that Lexa enters the bedroom with Titus and piece by piece they tuck away her life, carefully placing each item into empty cardboard boxes.
Two weeks ago…
The television went on white noise, she fell asleep two hours ago. A half empty bag of potato chips scattered on the parquet floor of her apartment. The fluorescent lamp flickers on the ceiling like the sun at day time. It illuminates the room but does not give life to anything in it. An artificial succulent stands by the window sill; she brought this because it looked real. Her flat was hot like an oven. All the walls are painted white with a few stains here and there; this makes the room look dreary. The temperature reaches thirty-two degrees Celsius; she lies in her unkempt bed of unwashed blankets, her pillow soaked with sweat dripping down her forehead. The last bottle of vodka stands on the coffee table next to her bed. An empty cigarette container has shifted all its burned-up contents into the glass ash tray next to it. It was the same ash tray that they took from a club six months ago because of a dare. That night was so intense it took her two days and tons of lemonade and aspirin to recover from it. An electric fan disperses a pile of manuscripts from the desk to the floor; its propeller is covered with thick filth that the breeze it produces is not strong enough to fling the pieces of paper no further than a foot. Outside you can hear the last train as its engine vanishes further and further towards the very last station, the noises of the neighborhood emerge. Down the block a dog barks at a passerby, a passerby speeds up his bicycle as he passes a dark bend, the grocer at the corner pulls down the store's metal shutters, then the street goes silent for a while.
The digital clock on her bed side table reads 10:52PM. For almost a month now, each night passes by this way. A container of take-out dinner, most likely anything mixed with rice in a box fills the kitchen trash bin. She hasn't cleaned her space for the longest time, she's not always like this, she always had a watchful eye on every speck that has a potential to turn into mildew.
Now, her apartment is barely recognizable from what it once was since she first moved in. A pile of mail lie on top of the kitchen countertop, mostly unopened. Those from the electric company were the only ones taken from the pile. Her mobile phone on top of the coffee table lights up, it doesn't ring, it starts to vibrate. It vibrates until it moves, trembling on top of the coffee table until it falls on to the rug on the floor. It continues to vibrate on the floor; it reads "37 missed calls". Then the silence of the room is broken by a knock on the door.
The rhythmic knocking soon turns into rampant tapping, then after a while becomes heavy banging. She recoils from her sleep, her head suddenly felt light with the rush of blood down her veins she was up on her feet. She stepped on a potato chip; her bare foot crushes the chip into a soft crunch. She stumbles towards the door, her hair so tousled; she manages to see right through her half-opened eyes. She looks for her glasses; she can't see anything beyond two feet without her glasses. Damn it, where is it? She mentally scolds herself. Then she hears a loud crunch beneath her foot; she has found her glasses, one lens shattered, and the frame broken into two. Screw it!
"Who is it?" She manages to mutter beneath her breath.
"Open up" the voice behind the door bawls.
She manages to maneuver two dead bolts, one on top of the door frame and another on axis. The door swings open as the lockset clicks loose and a familiar face emerges from behind the door.
"What's up with you? It has been days." Titus storms into the room.
She stands by the door, limp, shoulders down, rubbing her eyes. His wrist glistens with his brand-new silver plated watch, it hurt her eyes. He directs himself towards the kitchen, heads for the refrigerator. He was still dressed in a suit. He probably came from a dinner meeting or an exhibit opening, Lexa wonders to herself. The freezer lies almost empty containing only a half empty ice tray. The other compartments contain a carton of spoiled soy milk, a chunk of moldy cheddar cheese, some mucky green leafy vegetables and a can of ruined tuna. The only thing worth salvaging was a bottle of soda. He shuts the refrigerator door in disgust. He pries on the cupboards and sees nothing but an opened bag of detergent and a couple of unused toothbrushes; nonetheless there were nothing in there but cobwebs on the corners of the shelves. He takes a clean looking ceramic mug from the top of the circular dining table that looks more like a bar table because of its height adjustment mechanism and pours himself some water from the dispenser on top of the kitchen countertop. The cook top on the other end of the countertop looked like it wasn't used for weeks now. He gulped down all the water from the mug and stares at her for a while, she hasn't left her spot, she just stood there by the door. The coolness of the water calmed her nerves a bit.
"You could have at least answered our calls. We're just worried you know?" He stammers in a calmer tone.
"I'm sorry" She mutters in reply.
"I told Anya to let you sulk for a while but she bombarded me with so many messages and commanded me to march down here and make sure that you don't do anything stupid" Titus explains as he refills his mug from the tap.
"You know perfectly well that I am incapable of harming myself, right?" Lexa assures Titus.
"I know that but as opposed to hearing from you almost every day to sudden news blackout, we do have a reason to worry" Titus retorts in a calmer tone.
"I know. Just let me brood for a while will you? This takes some getting used to" Lexa retreats to her bedroom and Titus follows.
"Sure, but tomorrow, I think it will be wise if you do file for that Sabbatical. You might lose your job if you keep this up and it's probably best if you start looking for a new apartment, this place is eating you up. She has left so many blank spaces in here; the indoor plant is gone, her portrait is gone, even the coffee maker is gone. " Titus advises as he settles himself in the doorway of Lexa's bedroom.
"Okay, I'll do that, but will you go with me? Will you help me look for a new flat?" Teary eyed, Lexa connects with Titus through her stare. As best friends, they have mastered this, a strange telepathic-like connection with their eyes.
"Of course" Titus replies with a warm smile.
Author's Note:
Thank you for reading, this is going to be a multi-chapter fic and a bit of a slow burn. This is my first fic, so I'll try to post a few chapters in this week to build a background for the characters. A review will be deeply appreciated! All the characters are not mine and belong to their rightful owners.