Valentina sat in the half light,
the sunlight outside struggling to penetrate the mostly closed curtains and
managing to sneak a few rays into the darkness but feeling frustrated at the
inability to dispel the darkness. Her loved ones remained in the other parts of
the house, confused at her odd choices, her chosen isolation, and her seeming
lack of foresight, occasionally knocking on the door in an effort to provide
support to only receive cold detachment in response.
She
paced the room, clearly confused, and disoriented, wondering why she seemed to
lack the ability to form a clear thought, a good opinion, or a plan for the
future, uncertain of what to do next, while the sounds from the outside,
beautiful, joyous, and appealing, remained beyond her grasp. Curling into the
fetal position on the floor beneath the window, a single ray of sunshine nearly
reached her right foot and she wondered why it wouldn't move any closer, to
provide clarity and warmth.
She
began to rock herself in an effort to feel something, to know something other
than darkness and confusion, pressing her face into her knees until bright
lights appeared behind her closed eyes. Tipping to the side, she dropped to the
floor, her hair falling over her face only to be blown out of the way by her
own breath, to reveal an enormous cockroach only inches from her face,
motionless. Initially shocked and revolted, as any normal human would be, she
began to see the creature as a new friend, someone non-judgmental and
forgiving.
"I
will call you Carl," she whispered, reaching toward the still motionless
insect, to have it crawl upon her hand. Feeling a twinge of happiness with her
new found friend, who though speechless and without self-awareness, offered her
something in her self-chosen darkened solitude. The two played together, she
watching it skitter from one hand to the next, from floor to hand to leg to
other hand to other leg to the floor again.
A
singular eye peered through the keyhole, clearly with a limited view, pondering
this strange activity, seeing only the slow, deliberate movement, hearing the
occasional whisper but comprehending none of the words or actions. The body
connected to the singular eye eventually grew tired of observing the strange
behavior, stepping away to interact with those who were truly connected and
involved, finding happiness in the human interaction, the love of loved ones
thorough, complete, and genuine.
Valentina
rolled to her stomach, placing her chin on the floor to obtain a closer view of
her new friend, Carl, to allow him access to her face, his tiny exoskeleton
limbs skittering up her face and into her hair, feasting on the bits of dry
scalp trapped in her oily hair. She smiled at the interaction, trusting that
Carl was enjoying himself as much as she valued her time with him.
"Carl
is a beautiful, kind, and friendly man," she told herself, an effort in
self-deception and delusion that redirected her attention away from his
squeamish appearance into a vision of her own making, despising reality and
choosing a lie simply to make herself feel better, regardless of the cost and
impact upon her soul. With Carl still creeping about her scalp, she climbed on
the couch, the only piece of furniture in the room, to lie on her back and
pretend that they shared a deep and meaningful conversation about future plans.
As
time continued on, she began to invent a history, times and places she had
always wanted to visit, not alone, placing the tall, kind Carl into each scene,
each one lovely and romantic, hand in hand they walked the streets of Paris,
rode the gondolas through Venice, and sat together gazing upon the Mona Lisa in
the Louve. Motionless she lay, living in a world of her own making, her
delusion continued, wanting to find happiness and connection, and willing to
make any sacrifice to convince herself of the deluded false history.
The
days continued on and the stench emanating from the singular darkened room
increased, as one by one, those throughout the rest of the house departed, a
helpless sense of frustration at their inability to intervene, until the house
in all of its beauty and glory now sat empty, void of life, void of activity,
void of love, and silent. Valentina continued in her delusion, oblivious to the
stench she had created, the loss she had endured, and the emptiness of her
imaginary world, only to discover that Carl had stopped skittering about, now a
motionless shell in a far corner, and Valentina again sat alone, holding onto
her dreams and false memories, confused about what exactly had taken place.
She
lay again on the floor, looking upon her former lover and friend, tapping him
with her forefinger, to see nothing, no life, no activity, and no response,
turning her head, the light from under the door shone across her face and a
small memory, somewhat distorted popped into her mind. She rose to her feet and
hobbled to the door to grasp the handle and emerge from the darkness to see her
reflection on the wall art directly across from her as she left the room.
Startled
and confused at the face that looked back at her, she undressed, burned her
clothes in the fireplace in the living room down the hall, to return to the
hallway bathroom to shower away the filth. Horrified at her reflection in the
mirror in the bright light of the bathroom, she sat in the empty house,
listening to the clicking of a clock from another room and the occasional
cycling of the furnace, wondering what had happened, bringing her to this this
silent solitude, void of all life and love. "Why did Carl have to
leave," she wondered.
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