Page 36

The amber light of the sodium lamps in the parking lot filtered in through the window blinds, which Benjamin had drawn in an effort to prevent passerbies on the sidewalks below from look through and seeing him still at work at this late hour. He could faintly hear the jovial conversations and people calling back and forth to each other accross the parking lot, through the open window. It was a beautiful Friday night to be out and about. Benjamin stared blankly through the slitted blinds, out at the dark blue sky, as he awkwardly shoveled a limp hunk of mushroom from the white cardboard box from which he was eating into his mouth – he’d never been very good with chopsticks.

It had been a tortuously slow day. The hours had slowly sauntered by, and the to-do list crawled along even slower. Ben was nearly done with the third-to-last item, though he had paid a price to even get this far – he was exhausted from a day of constant battles with Mara, and repeated distractions. He’d finally admitted that he wouldn’t be finishing his entire list tonight, though if he could at least check this item off, he coul feel as though he had at least done something with his day. 

The final hour of work did finally begin to flow for him. No more outbursts or interruptions from Mara, and no more mindless mistakes on his part. For once in the day, he was finally and completely alone, save for the odd, drunken reveler, shouting outside in the parking lot. And alone, he worked in satisfying peace. 

Ben drove home, still in isolated silence. He yawned deeply as he adjusted his rear-view mirror at a red light – heavy bags were forming under his eyes. Mara wasn’t anywhere immediately visible – likely hiding in the trunk, though he hadn’t taken the bother to look. Though he was spent, from a day in which he had to fight against his lack of the clarity, stamina and speed which had graced him only the day before. But even still, he felt an exhausted sence of satisfaction, having forced his way through the doldrums, and out onto the other side. Maria would be pleased with what he’d gotten done. He needn’t accomplish anything more today. He’d played his part. 

Benjamin sluggishly traipsed across the threshold of his home, and lazily dropped his work bag on top of his neatly arranged line of boots and shoes. Mara whisped her way through the doorway, just as it was closing, and frigidly and silently crawled her way towards and into the kitchen. Ben trudged his way up the stairs, to eagerly get out of his work clothes. He could hear the clandestine clicking of a door latch, coming from the kitchen, and then a suppressed creaking sound, followed by another click. But Ben didn’t have any thoughts one way or another about what Mara was doing, or her present moodiness. He was simply exhausted of all such resources to care.

But Ben had no intention of sleeping, as he flopped onto the living room sofa with a pacifying bowl of ice cream. He had changed into gym shorts and his go-to oversized hoodie. The tv clicked to life.

“Have you tried the napkin test?”

“The what?!”

“The napkin test!”

Ben jammed his finger down onto the volume button, as an obnoxious commercial broke the quiet of the living room. 

“If your teeth aren’t whiter than a napkin, then you need to use–“ Ben found the mute button, just as the stunningly beautiful woman onscreen was about to explain to her equally beautiful friend how to get her teeth to be as white as the industrially-bleached piece of paper that she was holding up to her face. He glanced down at the paper towl which served as an insulator between the palm of his hand and the frigid ice cream bowl, as he clumsily jammed at the button on his remote labeled “Netflix.” The beautiful women vanished into a black screen. Ben set the bowl next to him on the sofa, and then blew his nose into the paper towel. He then crumbled and hurled it across the room, just shy of the waste basket.

There was a muted thud on the exterior brick wall behind Ben’s head, followed by the accented, muffled yowl of a man. The fist had failed to break through this time, and briefly muttered and swore to itself. Ben closed his eyes as his TV loaded up the software. In the quiet, he noted a faint, barely-audible scraping sound. He pondered for a moment whether it’s source was from outside or within. Scritch scratch. Eventually he concluded that it was the gnawing of a mouse, somewhere within the house, that was vibrating through it’s underlying timber structure. He had noted the sound a few times before, though normally on sleepless nights, while he lay turning in his bed.

Another thud landed against the wall, this time on that which separated the living room from the hallway. The drywall bulged and cracked in a fist-sized area, though did not tear through. The muffled, agitated voice on the other side faintly hollered out, “Buy mouse trap, idiot!”

The light from the Netflix movie list trickled through Benjamin’s closed eye lids. He opened them, and began tiredly scrolling through. It wasn’t for another twenty minutes that he would finally decide upon a movie to mindlessly consume. He settled on an old favorite of his. As the opening sequence began to play, Benjamin picked up his bowl of soppy, cold mush, and scooped the last few spoonfuls of what might still be considered ice cream into his mouth. His eyes heaved closed and opened in the flashing light of the film. He glanced over at the wall clock, which was dimly illuminated by the television. It was somewhere around 11:30.

“I’m not even sure if we’re on the air, uh–“ the opening lines of the film stole back his attention, though only for a moment, ”This is, uh, a series of explosions–”

Suddenly, and with no understanding as to why, Ben just didn’t feel like watching it anymore.