Shattered Walls

Mar 09, 2008

Chapter 1

Rain hit the screen-less window outside. It was coming down pretty good just then, which meant Sarah couldn’t open the window to air out the apartment until the rain stopped. She paused for a moment and looked down and out onto the street. She was only three stories above the world below, but to her it seemed so far away. She saw her neighborhood fall silent as the rain fell that afternoon. People darting and retreating to those places they go when it’s raining. Kids who would normally be playing in the street, Hop Scotch or Double Dutch, have retreated to their homes. The last of their yelling being soaked up by the steadiness of the rain. Sarah could see Mrs. Berry still sitting outside as if she didn’t know it was raining. Sarah laughed to herself, thinking she must be just as crazy as I am.
Lost in the grey of it all, Sarah turned her attention to rolling a joint to smoke as she watched the rain. She stared at one rain drop that seemed to be hitting her window over and over again. She attempted to remember what it felt like to have the rain hit her skin. The way it taps at you wanting to tell you a secret before it stops. It could wash away the most evil of sins or clear a path for you to walk on with your lover as you held hands. She remembered that the rain always made her feel free. The air always smelled sweeter when it was raining, but Sarah couldn’t remember the smell of rain. It was a forgotten notion in her life. I was put away with those other things that one forgets when you live in a box.
Sarah leaned forward and rested her head on her hands. She thought about all the work she had to do before Danny came. The worn oak table below her reminded her of how long it’s been since she went with her mother to purchase it. Everything around her is old— tiles on the floor broken and bruised, carpet needing to be replaced, green and shaggy, just like her life. She looked around her tattered apartment. She desperately needed to paint, something she kept saying she was going to do but doesn’t. The walls aren’t white anymore, but a tinted shade of ecru. Random pictures of friends she once knew, who are now only memories because it’s been years since she has seen any of them. Her kitchen table covered in manuscripts, articles and other useless works that she was to crazy to send out. The only clear spot is where she keeps her laptop. Lost in a sea stories, Sarah sighs and decides to get to work.
Sarah lights her joint and breathes in. Danny wouldn’t approve of her smoking and working at the same time. He doesn’t understand that she has a process to follow, and if she doesn’t, her brilliance will not come. She could feel the smoke filling up her lungs constricting any space to breathe in any oxygen. She exhales and lets the smoke leave her lungs. She closes her eyes. She sees nothing at first, just a blank dark space. She talks to herself.
“Think Sarah, breathe. The story is within.”
She hits her joint again. Breathe in, hold it there, and breathe out. She closes her eyes again-- Nothing, blank dark space. She waits for something to appear. Nothing. She opens her eyes and decides to finish her joint first and stare at the rain.
Lost in her thoughts, Sarah didn’t hear the phone ring. She takes the last drag from her joint and attempts to drown it out. She needs to write now, it’s only Danny calling to ask her the same question he asks her every Saturday, “Is it done yet?” She can’t bother with him. She is glad the machine is turned down so she doesn’t have to listen to him yell into the machine. She turns to her keyboard and starts to write.

The rain reminded me today that it is spring. I know nothing of seasons anymore. I use the weather patterns I see when I look outside my window to judge what season it maybe. In summer the kids play outside in the fire hydrant until the police roll by to shut it off. The old ladies of the neighborhood sit on the corner and play bridge and tell stories of their grandchildren who are coming to visit soon. In the fall, the kids stand on that same corner waiting for the school bus to roll by and pick them up for the start of their year of learning. Their breaths leave an imprint on the air as they breathe out the cold air. Winter is white. Everything, the trees, the street and the walls—this is mostly because of the salt, but sometimes because of the snow storm that was just brewed and served on the city. I sometimes forget how much I miss the outside.
It has been three years since I locked myself in my apartment. It was the only place I felt safe. The outside world had turned on me. The only place I know is in these four walls. I write for those who don’t have a voice, to let them know that someone knows their pain. My column gives hope to the hopeless.
In this week’s installment I want to talk about passing the time. I recently received a letter from another agoraphobic saying that she doesn’t know what to do with her time. This caused me to laugh because if you can’t leave your house you have a lot of time on your hands. There are many people who would kill for the amount of time we have on our hands. So why is it that this person who is devastated by leaving her home, trying to plan her day as if she had appointments to keep. I wonder…
But at any rate, I should answer her question. I would have to say that you can do whatever you want to do. I read a lot the first six months. Anything and everything my friend Danny could get his hands on. I started with the books that I was suppose to read in college, but didn’t cause I didn’t have time. Then I moved on to the classics. I joined an online reading circle, the kind that doesn’t require you meet once a month. Literature helped me pass my time.
I can’t tell you what your one thing will be. It is something that you stumble upon. It will also be that “one thing” that will keep you connected to the outside world—keep you “sane” so to speak. I’ve taken to watching the rain a lot lately, so maybe my one thing is changing. I hope that answers her question.
The rain reminds me or rebirth. I wish I had the courage to walk out into the street naked, dance around and cleanse my soul. Then maybe, just maybe I could stay out and play….
SMJ

Sarah looks down at her laptop. Finally finished. She didn’t think it was much, but to her readers it made their week. She wasn’t feeling much into it this week. She thought she had actually cheated her readers. She usually had some philosophical mumbo jumbo that would leave her readers at ease with their lives. But she didn’t think she could do that anymore. She wasn’t at ease with her life anymore. She longed for something more than these walls. The blank stares her friends from her former life left her feeling cold. She wondered if they even remember who she was because she had forgotten who she was when she knew them.
Jazz pawed at the door because she heard something that Sarah did not. A key turned the locks so quickly that she didn’t even have time to get up and check to see who it was. Dennis fat head poked around the door. He was her favorite friend, the only one who stayed when she locked herself up. He would bring her the world—pot, newspapers, magazines, her copy from the week before—anything she wanted. He ran her life on the outside. She would probably be in an institution if it wasn’t for him. She loved him more than she could ever tell him. She looked at his fat face as he entered her apartment. He’s getting older, she thought, how much more can he take?
“Hey lady,” he said and smiled.
“Hey you,” she said.
“Do you have a present for me,” he asked coyly.
“Fuck you, is that all you ever want from me, a present??” she said.
“Well seeing that your copy is due at 9am and I still have to read the fucking thing. Yes, I want my present,” he answered.
“Well, I will give you what I have if you give me what you have,” she said as she stood in front of him and batted her eyes.
Danny handed her a bag of items, she pulled each one out and stared at them; pot (thank god), copy from last week with notes (god damm syndication assholes), assorted magazines, Zoloft. Sarah smiled at Danny and kissed his cheek. He looked at her as he always does, like he has stars in his eyes. He still sees the old Sarah. This made Sarah sad for a moment. The walls of her apartment were pinching her soul and she didn’t know how to stop it. She wanted to scream let me break free, but he throat was closed up. She smiled to hide her pain and just pushed print so Danny could take the copy.
“What are you plans for the rest of the day, Sarah,” Danny asked as he checked the fridge to make his grocery list.
“Pop a few Zoloft, smoke a joint and see where the wind takes me,” Sarah said laughing. “I was hoping to work on my book a little and I am not high enough yet to even get to where I am to work on it.”
“I don’t understand you. Those Zoloft are supposed to help you work on getting out of this fucking place, not stay in it,” Dan says as he starts to clean up around the work area.
“Stop cleaning Dan, I like it this way. Cluttered like my mind. There is a system you know, to my madness,” Sarah said coyly.
“Well, one day I am going to make you walk out those doors and we are going to go to Central Park and feed the pigeons,” Dan said as he laughed.
“Yeah right, the only way I am going out there is if God herself comes down and says that it is okay,” Sarah smirked at Dan.
“Well if you take enough of that Zoloft and smoke enough of that pot, you just might see her highness in your living room.”

Dan walked over to Sarah and kissed her forehead covered in curly brown hair. He always did that when he was about to leave. She always thought that one of these days she would tell him how she felt, but today wasn’t that day. She knew that if he truly knew how she felt about him, he would push her to attempt to rejoin society. It was their friendship that kept him at bay on that issue. She had lots of secrets, but that was the only one that killed her spirit daily. She couldn’t be with the man she loved, because of her disease.
“I will see you tomorrow your highness, groceries and all,” Dan said as he bowed to bid her farewell.
“Thank you, my humble servant,” Sarah chimed.
And with that he was gone. Sarah was alone again.