Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Stuff and Nonsense

"Are you sure the 5 x 10 space will do it, then?  The 10 x 10 isn't that much more, you know?  It's easier to fill up than to pare down."

She smiles ruefully.  "Yeah, I know, but that's what I'm trying to do.  Pare down, I mean.  The more space you have, the more likely you are to fill it.  I'm just trying to get to the bare essentials."

"Whatever.  It's totally your call."  The manager doesn't have time to philosophize.  "Okay, now it's a dollar for the first month, that's the promotion.  Then each month after that is 80;  You can cancel any time, but you'll pay for the whole month if you end it early."  (How about that, she thinks.)  He rips off the contract off the screechy, old-school printer.  "Sign here and here," he indicates with X's. “Annnnd, initial right here where you decline the insurance."

She follows his instructions by rote, her mind on the boxes she's packed.  How long she's thought about doing this, how many miles she's trotted on the trail, planning, deciding what to bring, how to sneak it away unnoticed.  

She can't leave.  But her things can.  They can live in this tiny, windowless room.  She'll put a chair in here, and sit with her books and papers.  There might be room for the fold-up card table.  She'll pretend she lives alone for two hours at a time.  

Pack some boxes surreptitiously.  No one will notice.  In all the clutter what's one box more or less?  Or three.  Or five.  She gathers things up periodically to take to Goodwill.  Once in a while she could drive right past Goodwill and stop at the storage place instead.  If she ever decided to leave for real, she could do it on a moment's notice.  The few things she cared about would already be gone.  As it is, she has an overnight bag stashed in the car, disguised as a gym bag, an emergency kit.  A few days' worth of meds, some toiletries, cosmetics, a change of clothes and so forth.  It would be quite easy, really.  Given the amount of time she has spent envisioning it, it would be smooth as clockwork.  Like a diamond heist in the movies.  11 Harrowhouse.  The Italian Job.  Score.


She sighs resolutely.  Crumples the paper with the code to the gate and drops in the bin on her way down the rickety steps.  Already put it in her phone.  What would she say if she were discovered?  The truth?  Hardly.  Who could stand to hear that?  I don't love you, I don't want to be here, I need a place of my own that we can't afford, so here is an office I've created for myself in a storage locker.  I'm leaving you in fantasy so I won't actually do it.  Games she learned from the books on raising toddlers.   How fitting.

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

They moved into an RV in the driveway once, for five days while they had the floors done.  Packed up as for a trip.  They smirked about their "staycation."  Clothes for five days for two adults and three kids.  Sleeping space for all and tiny places to tuck things away.  An awning.  A picnic table.  There was a small kitchen area, but they ate a lot of take out.  It was just five days.

Now she runs with the dog on the path to the bay.  There is a trailer park--sorry, a mobile home community.  Some of the parking spaces are filled with RVs and she thinks longingly of that time when she only had to deal with a limited space, a discrete amount of stuff.  Paring away to essentials.  She could do that again.  By herself this time. 

What would she need, really?  The laptop, her few business clothes, a couple pairs of jeans.  Even the books she would need, she could get at the library.  Return them when she's done with them.  Nothing outstays its usefulness.  She's camped before, not real backpacking, but gear to make a tent cabin feel homey.  Strings of chili pepper lights, a checked vinyl tablecloth.  A few candles.  Things she doesn't think to do at home now because there's already too much clutter, other people's possessions.   When you come right down to it, everything she needs is right there in her mind anyway.   

Irony is both sad and funny.  A solitary person, petrified to be alone.  Who surrounded herself with noisy people and lots of chaos.  Only to learn, too late, that to be alone in silence was what she liked best of all.

18 comments:

  1. Woman...You is a GREAT writer! xoxo

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  2. So. I'm crying. I never thought of a storage space as an alone space. What you've written is what I think about all the time, every day. My back is healing properly, hopefully. I'm wishing the wellness I need to leave will be here early next year.

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  3. There are very few people who can make me cry with their blogs. You and Miss Katy are two of them. I want to hug you, bring you comfort food, and stand guard outside of your storage space when you need to hide out. Much luv, hon.

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  4. I'll be a tag-team with Tina.

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  5. I want to hold you right now. Tell you everything is going to be ok. When the truth is, we don't know that. But a hug would make you feel better. Even if for a few seconds. Because, everybody can use a hug. Strength from strangers.

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  6. "A solitary person, petrified to be alone".
    So amazingly well put. Irony can be such an asshole sometimes.

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  7. Hugs,hugs, and more hugs!

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  8. I'd call it flirting with solitude. You do a great job making a storage unit feel like a paradise getaway

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  9. My mom threatened to leave my step-dad after the last kid turned 18. No one listened. Except for me. I wished she had done it long before she did. I would expect she had planned and moved some things. But as I stood there watching her run around like a chicken with its head cut off...on the weekend I returned for my recent ex's funeral...everything was surreal for that moment...she wasn't as prepared as I thought. She had planned it for so long though. The anxiety of that moment was palpable. Life as I knew it had fallen apart. It was her new beginning and I couldn't be happier.

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  10. As i start my new solitude journey... This is very fitting. (and written on my birthday, no less.)
    ~Kirsten

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  11. Beautifully written. I wonder if there is anyone who has never felt this way? Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I'm 58 years old. I'm done raising my kids (although they're still living at home), but now have my Mom living with us. I feel so trapped. Had a tooth pulled yesterday and told her because of the discomfort and meds, I wouldn't be spending time with her in her apartment (we built onto our home to accommodate her). Now thinking about having one tooth pulled each week so I can have that break.

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  12. I just found you and feel compelled to tell you that you are amazing writer. Thanks for sharing.

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  13. Do it! And keep doing it until you are gone! It took me six months to save two months rent (first & last) for a teeny tiny two bedroom with a teeny tiny front room and a wonderful huge claw footed tub in the b.r. He went to play squash and six of my nearest and dearest descended and poof my daughter and I were gone. With one teeny tiny couch, all her bedroom furniture, toys and clothes, my clothes and the tv (for her.) Left him all the rest including the super dooper fancy schmancy stereo system. I also left all the stupid silver that his idiot family had given his unemployed ass for wedding presents. Now I don't have to polish it. My daughter was just turning two and grew up like Topsy. Good luck.

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  14. I think you read my mind.. AMAZING!! I am so glad I am not the only one. This may be fiction, but it is nonfiction in my life, I have thought those thoughts a lot, I have three little ones, they are all I need... I too have gotten rid of things to slowly move out.. *sighs...a lot going on, a lot in my mind, some days I feel as if I could take on the world and I do, others I want to sleep it all away... I like my own space, I prefer to be alone with my kids and my best friend... I just read my life's story, I'm in tears.. Thank You

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  15. There's that quiet power again. Like a whispered shout, the anger is there but it's delivered gently, poignantly. You are the Genie; Phenomenal cosmic powers, in a teeny tiny container. You ARE a big deal, and getting bigger!

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  16. "The manager doesn't have time to philosophize." haha. This sentence kind of summarizes my ongoing experience with the outside world. It's better inside.

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