Unboxing

I stand in front of the open fridge and stare into the void. It doesn’t stare back. All that does stare back are: three cans of tonic water; one bottle of ginger beer; two apples that probably need to be tossed; leftover pizza from three days ago; half a bottle of eight-dollar rosé; and a box of slimy spinach that I bought when I thought I might make salads. I close the fridge.

Sitting on the couch, I try to focus on the task at hand: lunch. Obviously, there’s nothing for me here. I could order take out, but without steady work, delivery fees can add up. The thought eating just fills my stomach with acid.

The world outside is blurry through the filter of gauzy curtains on the front windows. But at least the sky is blue and that’s calming. A bug crawls against the glass. It’s this creepy thing; it looks like it might have another bug’s corpse attached to it. It’s like a big ant. Where is it going? Does it know where it is? But I know that bugs don’t dwell on the existential worry that plagues me every day. Poor humans. We spend our whole lives trying to figure out who we are and what our purpose is, only to find that we’re constantly changing.

My parents died a year ago. You would think a thirty-year-old woman could get over that sort of thing sooner. Because losing your healthy sixty-year-old parents in a train accident is something you should be prepared for. Maybe living in their house, in my childhood home, wasn’t the best choice. But it is free rent.

The ice machine in the fridge clatters and startles me. The only other sound in the house is the whir of the AC, counteracting the hot as hell weather outside. I’m glad it’s not cold though, I hate the cold. I’ve never understood when people say they like winter because they can always add more layers to get warm. I hate feeling over encumbered and I never can get warm enough. I think I might be cold blooded like a reptile. I need a sun lamp.

Bunny is sleeping at my feet. Bunny is my cat. She’s grey and small and perfect. In her sleep she twitches, her tiny paws flicking, reaching for something in her dreams. I want to pet her, feel her breathing, but I don’t want to interrupt her hunt. One of us needs to accomplish something today.

I wake up when the mail arrives. I fell asleep on the couch with my laptop in my lap again. The screen saver shows pictures of me on vacation, pictures of me with people I don’t talk to anymore. I close my laptop.

I watch through my curtains as the blurry mailman walks back down my driveway and onto the next house. He’s got on the little shorts and the iconic mailman hat. I want to go talk to him. I haven’t spoken to a human in days unless you count the Postmates guy (but I don’t) or through texting Aunt Pam (but I’m bad at replying). I could offer the mailman a glass of ice water. It’s so hot out. Maybe he’s a nice man and we chat, and I don’t hold him up too long. Maybe the next time he delivers mail he waves at me through the window and maybe I go talk with him again. Maybe his name is Joey. Joey moved here recently from New York and wonders if I might be interested in going to dinner with him sometime, show him the area. I wouldn’t mind at all. Maybe I take Joey to that hip restaurant I went to that one time with those friends from my screen saver pictures. Maybe I see them there and they join Joey and me and we talk and laugh and get drinks and reminisce about the good times but also plan the next times. Joey and I take an Uber back to our side of town. Joey kisses me at my door but not too much. He does not try to fuck me that night. Maybe Joey is one of the good ones.

Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll talk to him.

I look at my phone.

2:13 p.m.

Okay, tomorrow, I’ll be ready with water and a smile. Tomorrow I won’t fall asleep on the couch in the middle of the day like the piece of shit I am.

It’s two in the afternoon but I pour myself a gin and tonic. It’s not like there’s anyone here to judge me except the cat and what does she care?

I take my drink into the bedroom and place it on the nightstand, next to a coaster. I change out of the shirt I’m wearing and pull on a sweatshirt that’s several sizes too big with the name of my undergraduate college across the front. I know it’s a million degrees outside, but the AC is on and I want to feel safe. I’m wearing my favorite pair of leggings (the ones with the hole in the crotch) and no bra. I cut off all my hair recently because it was just too much of a hassle to maintain the long hair. I wanted to just shave my head, but I chickened out. People would think I’m having a Brittney moment (which I’m not), but I know that’s what everyone would think.

One time, my friend Tiffany was hospitalized with an eating disorder and some of the other girls in our group (the group in the pictures from my screen saver) made fun of her for being crazy, but also talked about being jealous of how skinny Tiffany was. They said maybe they should try the bulimia diet. I didn’t laugh at those jokes. Maybe I should call Tiffany and see how she’s doing.

I sit down on the floor next to my bed. It’s unmade because what’s even the fucking point? Under the bed are the boxes. I need to go through them, but I keep avoiding it. Maybe it’s my sudden interest in the mailman, but something moves me to slide out one of the boxes that’s closest to me and open the lid.

The box is filled with pictures from before I was born. I love looking at these. My dad had a ridiculous 80s mustache that he never had when I knew him. They looked so in love. So young. So happy. Would anyone ever look at pictures of me and think those things? I put the lid back on the box and push it aside.

I pull out another box. Bunny the cat wanders in and sniffs at the open box.

“Hey,” I say. “Don’t get in the box.”

She looks at me with her green, green eyes that are too big for her tiny face.

Who’s going to stop me? she says.

She places one paw in the box, but I put the lid on, scaring her.

“Sorry,” I say.

She squints at me but doesn’t leave.

She jumps onto the bed and watches me from above.

The second box I pulled out has some of my baby stuff in it, my shoes, a favorite shirt of mine, my baby blanket. I wrap the blanket around my shoulders. It still smells like Mom. I pick up the shoes and stare at them. They are so small. One can fit in the palm of my hand. I don’t think I’ll ever have kids. It’s not that I don’t want them, but I don’t think anyone wants to have them with me. Plus, I think I’d be a shitty mom. You’re right Imaginary Child of Mine, the world is a really dark place when you think about it. No, I don’t think anything happens when anyone dies. No, I don’t have a mom and a dad, not anymore. Yes, I was pretty like the other mommies once. Growing up is a lie kid, everything costs money.

I put the shoes back in the box and push it next to the other. I get down on my stomach and look under the bed.

I wonder if Joey the Mailman would be a good dad.

I come back to the room after getting my second G&T. I sit on my bed this time, next to Bunny, looking down at the open boxes. Why am I going through this shit? I know I won’t end up throwing anything away. I sigh and sip my drink. I’m out of limes. I turn on the TV that’s across from my bed. What kind of mindless garbage should I consume today?

I settle on a home renovation show, even though I know it’ll make me depressed. I know at one level I’m lucky I don’t have to pay rent anymore. As an only child I got everything when my parents died, including the house. Lucky me. The small one-story house is long since payed off, and yes, it is weird to be sleeping in my parents’ bedroom, but I wasn’t about to sleep in my childhood room, not when the master is just down the hall. But it is weird. I’m not used to this house, not in the way I once was. It’s too quiet. Every little sound wakes me up, from the old pipes to the AC unit outside my window. I’ve started sleeping with music on, just for the background noise. That’s probably why I fall asleep with the TV on all the time. The quiet house and neighborhood are disconcerting.

The Happy White Couple on the reno show are trying to decide what backsplash they want in their new, open concept kitchen. Oh, to have those problems. I wish I had someone who cared about the color of the backsplash and wondered if a bright blue would be just too much. Bunny is watching the tv too, intently staring at the moving images as if they were real. I imagine our conversation about backsplash:

Subway tiles are a must, right? I would say.

Definitely, she’d reply.

Now which color do you like better, the red or maybe this blue color?

They all look grey to me.

* * *

It’s Joey day.

I wake up at 9:00, which to be fair is at least two hours earlier than I’ve been waking up. A text message from my aunt, Pam, waits for me. She was my mom’s older sister. I guess she’s no one’s sister now.

–Hey Mary, just checking in! Haven’t heard from you in a bit! Hope you’re doing okay!

Why so many damn exclamation points, Pam? No way you’re that excited, you’re just trying to give off an easy breezy attitude over text in hopes it will convince me to reply. Well Pam, you’re half right.

–Hi Pam! Sorry I’ve been out of touch, been really busy with work. I’ll try to call soon.

One exclamation point. And no, you don’t need to know how I’m doing because I’m fine.

I go into the bathroom and turn the shower on. It’s been a while since I showered last. I mean, I’ve taken baths, I’m not that disgusting. But standing for that long has just seemed like too much. But today was Joey day and I was going to shower damn it.

While the water heats up, I go into the kitchen to feed Bunny. She’s lying next to her empty food bowl when I approach. She screams at me.

“Hey, you’re getting breakfast two hours earlier than normal today, be grateful,” I say.

She rubs against my legs.

I change her water dish before going back to my bathroom.

Am I a bad cat owner? I can barely take care of myself most days and Bunny’s feeding schedule is totally wonky because my life schedule is even wonkier.

Still, she seems to still love me and that’s all I can really ask for. If I didn’t have her to take care of, well, I don’t even want to think about that.

The water is scalding, and my skin turns red in places as I stand underneath the boiling waterfall. It’s nice.

Bunny is laying on the bathmat, waiting for me when I get out of the shower. She’s as loyal as any dog and certainly more loyal than any boyfriend I’ve ever had.

I stand naked in my closet, thinking harder about what to wear than I have in months. First impressions are crucial.

I land on a pair of hole-less leggings and a T-shirt I got at a concert a few years ago. Maybe Joey is into the band too. That would be a great conversation starter. Or maybe I can introduce him to them, and they’ll become his favorite band too. We can listen to their records and next time they’re in the area we can go to the show and he’ll be so excited to see them for the first time. I’ll enjoy seeing them again, but really, I’ll just be happy watching him be happy. He’ll sing along to every song and I’ll laugh and smile knowing I was the reason he fell in love with them.

Of course, I’m getting ahead of myself. Chances are he won’t be interested in me anyway. Just another crazy girl who has full conversations with her cat.

* * *

After getting dressed I wander into the kitchen to find some breakfast. I scroll through Instagram as the coffee brews. I recently curated my feed to mostly be cats and other animal pages. I stopped being able to see pictures of people my age, people I once called friends, showing off their successful lives and fun vacations and successful relationships and happy families.

I turn on the tv and open my laptop. I turn on the baking show with the nice British people. It honestly relaxes me how kind and wonderful they are to each other. I wish life was really like that.

I have an email waiting for me from my boss. My boss has been really kind since my parents died but it’s been a year, and shouldn’t I be over it by now? Be functional? Anything can happen at any time. It’s not safe out in the world. Tell that to my peers as they climb mountains and sail off the coast of some Greek island. Careful not to fall off the cliff! Be sure not to drown! But they don’t care. What’s life without a little risk?

A long one.

I answer the email with my apologies, telling my boss I’ll have the article to her by the end of the week. I hope I’m not lying and thank her again, for the millionth time, for being so understanding. I know she must be getting tired of my shit. I know I am.

I open the article I’ve been working on for a few months now. It’s supposed to be about grief and loss, something I’m somewhat of an expert in you could say. But it’s not supposed to just be about wallowing in the grief, yet that’s all I have experience in. So far, anyway, I guess. In theory there’s an after. Theoretically I can get on with it. Now I’ve only got a few days left to do so.

I close the laptop back up.

* * *

It’s two o’clock. Joey the Mailman should be here any minute, give or take.

It’s another scorcher out there. I filled a plastic cup with cold water and ice, easy for him to take to-go. I’m feeling so anxious. My stomach was turning over and over, spinning like a hula-hoop around a little girl’s waist. Oddly though, I’m feeling a bit relieved that I do feel so nervous. Nothing has made me feel this anxious in who knows how long. Seems like a good thing.

I jump when my phone vibrates. It’s Aunt Pam calling. Usually I would ignore the call, but she’s been so persistent with making contact lately. I answer.

“Hello?”

“Mary!” Pam’s voice comes through the phone. I can see her in my mind, hand to her mouth in surprise at my answer, bouncing a little on her toes. A human exclamation point.

“Hey, Pam,” I say, “how are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine, I’m fine!” she says. “How are you though dear? I know things have been so tough for you.”

“I’m okay, Pam.” I want to get her off the phone. Joey could come by at any moment.

“Of course,” she says, but she doesn’t sound like she believes me. Which is fair I suppose, I’m not sure I would believe me either.

“Did you need something in particular?” I ask, trying not to sound too impatient. “I’ve got a friend coming over.”

“A friend! Oh, that’s excellent!”

I can see her bouncing again.

“Yeah, I have friends,” I say. I walk over to the front windows and peek around the gauzy curtains. No sign of Joey, not from this vantage point at least.

“Sorry! Of course, you have friends, that’s not what I meant,” I could hear Pam scrambling.

“It’s fine, really, I know what you meant,” I suppress an exasperated sigh.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you,” Pam says.

“Thanks, Pam—”

“How’s work going? Writing still?” She cut me off. She doesn’t “want to keep me” but she keeps talking? I don’t have the patience for this.

“Yeah, work is fine, I’m still writing,” I say. “I’m working on a piece right now actually, should be out in a few weeks I think.”

“That’s wonderful!” Still bouncing. “I’m so proud of you, Mary. You’re doing so well.”

“Thank you,” I say. I don’t know what there is to be proud of, really. I’m just doing my job.

“I know the anniversary is coming up—”

“I know, yeah.” It was my turn to cut her off. I don’t have the energy for this right now.

“I’m sorry, I know you know.” She wasn’t bouncing anymore.

I didn’t say anything.

“Well, I just wanted to check on you,” Pam finally said. “If you need anything, just call. I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Pam,” I say finally.

We hang up.

All my excitement, my energy is gone.

I scoop up the cat who’d been sitting by the front door, and retreat to my room. I leave the cup of water condensating on the counter.

* * *

It’s dark now. I haven’t bothered to turn the lights on in my room. I’ve been laying on the bed for hours, not sleeping, but not watching TV or anything either. Bunny is curled up on my pillow, next to my head. Her purring lulls me, makes me almost forget how horrible today went. Why I thought it would go any differently for me, I don’t know.

Sighing, I get up and head to the kitchen. After feeding Bunny, I grab a piece of cold pizza for dinner.

Aunt Pam had seemed so happy to hear I had a friend coming over. Too bad it was a big fat lie. No one was coming over, not a friend, not a mailman. It’s always just me and Bunny, that’s it. Maybe it’s all it’s ever going to be.

Shuffling back to my bedroom, I grab a Rice Crispy Treat from the pantry. I trip on one of the boxes that are still on the floor of my room.

Fucking shit. I kick the box towards my bed. It doesn’t go far, but I feel better.

I lay in bed, face to the ceiling, eyes closed. When did my life become this? I miss my old life, I miss having friends, I miss being a functioning member of society. My interior monologue tries to cheer me up:

Girl, you can still have that life! Call your friends, set up a girl’s night! Go meet a nice boy! Talk to Joey the Mailman!

Calm down Aunt Pam. I told you I’m fine.

I miss my mom and dad. They wouldn’t let me wallow in self-pity like this. Mom would get me up and make me go on a run with her. Dad would make sure I was eating properly, and he’d be ready with a joke so dumb I wouldn’t be able to not laugh.

I squeeze my eyes shut and count slowly to ten.

I slowly rise from the bed and turn on the lamp on my nightstand. Bunny lifts her head and squints at the light. I give her a little chin scratch and she yawns and goes back to sleep. I’m envious, not for the first time, of how easily she falls asleep.

I sit down on the floor and pull out another box to try and sort through.

This box has pictures of me from college that my mom must have printed. She wrote cute things on the back of the prints along with the dates. Her handwriting was always so neat and perfect, almost like its own font. There’s an awkward picture of me in my dorm room the day I moved in. I remember being so embarrassed by her insistence of taking a picture, in front of my new roommate. I wanted to seem so chill and cool about the whole thing, but after my parents left, I went into the bathroom and cried, quietly so no one would hear me. There’s another picture of me in front of my first apartment hugging the girl I would live with for the next three years and that I haven’t talked to in almost as many. My mom wrote on the back of that photo too.

–Mary and her best friend Helen moving into their first apartment! So many memories are about to be made!

There’s really no reason Helen and I haven’t talked in a while. Except for the depression, I guess. I think she still lives in the city. Maybe I should call her. That is if she would even still want to talk to me after all this time.

I put the photo back in the box. Under layers of random pictures from college are my graduation photos. I look closely at my twenty-two-year-old face. Just a little chubby, the depression weight was only just starting. I’m smiling in the picture, being handed a diploma by a random professor I’d never had. But looking at my eyes, they looked empty. I wasn’t really there. I don’t remember that night like I feel I should. It wasn’t because it was a blur of excitement, I wasn’t drunk like a majority of my class. I was just terrified. Graduation scared the shit out of me. It didn’t take much longer until things got really bad for me. I probably should have never lived alone. I probably shouldn’t now, either.

I shuffle through the rest of the pictures in the box. At the bottom is the last picture I have of my parents and me. They were so proud of me. I feel like a disappointment still. I take that picture out of the box and put it on my nightstand.

* * *

Bunny the cat greets me at the door with a meow and a head-butt on the shin. I just had lunch with Aunt Pam. It’s been a few days since her phone call. We talked for a while and I was honest with her for the first time in who knows how long. I told her I wasn’t doing that great, that things really have been bad. She’s going to come over this weekend and help me sort through the rest of Mom and Dad’s stuff. I think it will be good.

I put my purse on the kitchen table and get myself a glass of water. My fridge is newly stocked with food, things I can actually cook. I hope it doesn’t all go to waste.

There’s a knock on the door.

Aunt Pam and I even talked about selling the house. It might end up being a good thing, I could set myself up and get a place of my own. But it’d be weird saying goodbye to this place.

I open the front door.

“Hey, I’ve got a package here for Mary?”

It’s Joey the Mailman. I don’t know what to say, I’m a little shocked I forgot about him.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me,” I finally get out.

He hands me a box.

“Have a nice day,” he says. He has a great smile.

“Thanks, you too.”

He’s starting to walk away.

“Hey, it’s pretty hot out there,” I say. He turns back around. “Can I get you a cup of water to go?”

Joey the Mailman (or whatever his name actually is) smiles.

“No thanks ma’am. I’ve got a water bottle in the truck. Have a good day!”

He turns and leaves, walking back to his truck.

I feel a little crestfallen. I close the door then sink to the ground.

I guess I always knew this was a possibility. He had no obligation to talk to me. And would I accept a drink from a strange person I’d never met before?

My head on my knees I let out a long, heavy sigh. Why did I think that anything would go well for me? So what that I had a good lunch with Pam? So what that I might get out of this house? Who cares?

I feel a small nudge against my leg. I raise my head. Bunny is next to me. She headbutts me again then rubs up against me.

“Hey baby,” I whisper to her. “At least I’ve got you, right?”

She stares at me, green eyes wide and understanding. She turns and walks away.

I groan and put my head back to my knees. She’s still just a cat, and there’s no wonder cure for me. I just have to keep making my way through my boxes and take it a day at a time.