I'm sprawled on a black swivel armchair that served, faithfully, as my home office's seat till some hours ago. I have little choice but to stare blankly into the blank space in the white-painted empty room. A person seeing me would think that the solution to my puzzled state is floating in the void but tense atmosphere.
I might have been in this position for an hour or two. To be honest, I've lost count of the time. It took a tingling sensation under the sole of my left foot to nudge me back to reality. In a rush, the events that preceded my bamboozled state flood my blank mind.
If you must know a little about me, I'm a remote worker. I spend most of my days on the seat I'm currently sitting on. Mind you, I'm not always staring at blank space like I'm currently doing. The animated displays on the screens of my HP laptop and two external monitors usually hold my gaze. While watching the screens, I usually have a headset on. You could see me occasionally scribbling things on a notepad, normally placed on my right hand side, just behind a transparent mug, a bottle of liquor, and packs of snacks and fruit.
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I'd dashed off that morning in response to a distress call from Patty, a close friend of mine. I can remember breezing past Anita while making for the door. She didn't ask where I was going, and I said nothing to her, apart from a low-toned "good morning." Did she reply? "Not that I can remember." Did she even make any sense from my mumbling? "I still can't tell."
The truth is, these days, Anita and I hardly exchange words. We are both hard-working and earning a decent income. So I assumed we were both happy with our jobs and ourselves, despite the fact that there hadn't been much banter between us recently.
On meeting Patty, it suddenly appeared that the call was a false alarm. I was partly relieved that his state wasn't in any way dreadful as his call had me to believe. But a part of me was exasperated at being tricked into leaving my workspace, which has become my favourite spot. My connection with that spot seems romantic. Sitting there listening to clients and reading the satisfaction in their voices when their problems are solved is always orgasmic. I was addicted. I knew it, but I wasn't ready to kill the addiction.
Apart from a subtle stiffness in Patty's voice and a bit of uneasiness in his expression, my pal Patty looked okay. Yes, I could smell a rat, but I couldn't place a finger on anything.
I persuaded him to tell me what was amiss, to no avail. I left him after some hours.
On getting to my house, I made nothing of the large tyre print I saw outside. In my usual manner, I strutted towards the front door and gently turned the rounded silvery doorknob. Blankness and an unfamiliar quiet greeted me. I didn't panic yet.
I thought to myself, "It's a Saturday. Anita must be cleaning."
Still, without any hurry, I made for my favourite spot. Apart from the chair, the whole space was blank. It was at that instant that I plopped down on the armchair, which I'm still sprawled on.
I'm still staring at the blank space. I notice an additional layer on the white wall, which is some miles away from me. I'm walking down. A white sheet of paper is fastened to the wall. Hastily, I unclipped it. The handwriting is Anita's.
Even in my dilemma, I can't help but admire the neat writing that once scripted our love story. For the first time in years, I'm paying attention to the blankness of my heart.
The note reads:
"You stopped caring. So I stopped demanding. How on earth did you manage to have the illusion that I was okay, living as a mere flatmate with the man I gave my heart to? I would've left only with my properties, but I had to take all you loved. Perhaps that will make you feel the same blankness I feel every day, despite staying with you. "
Patty, my friend, had always liked Anita. But I was always more fortunate with women.
Now, I'm recollecting Patty's queer behaviour earlier in the day.
Did my friend and girlfriend pull a stunt on me?
I loved Anita. I love Anita. But where did I go wrong? I can't tell.
All I have left are blank spaces, which I have no idea how to fill.