Unlit windows

Midnight

The sun’s not coming up tomorrow. Not this time.

I know it has since the dawn of time, but this night… it feels different. It's darker. It’s quieter than others. 

The worst part is that all nights start the same. I can always see them coming. I start to notice the sun going down and I know there’s nothing I can do about it except try to carry on with my day. The first few hours of the night aren’t so bad. I’m not too tired yet, even though the heaviness has already started to set within me. Some people are still awake during those hours, so I can talk to them. But even while I do, I can’t keep my head from reminding me of what's coming. What's already starting to form around me. I become distracted as I try not to look at the windows too much, because I know what they show will only grow darker and darker. And outside, I know the houses around me will be lighting up, one window at a time, as everyone gets ready to carry on with their lives.

Tonight was no different. It was fine at first. But time slips by, and suddenly it’s midnight. And I didn't even realize it got so late. So dark. And that I’m so tired. My head feels heavy and the blankets feel stuck to my skin. There are so many things I wanted to do, so many places I wanted to go. But I can’t anymore. I’m too deep into the night.

I could cook something, or finally read the book I’ve been putting off. It’s sitting right there on the table, next to the tea that went cold hours ago. But I don’t have the energy. My house is too dark to even see. Every light is off. The only glow comes from my phone, face down on the bed, lighting up a little circle of the comforter every once in a while. The dog sleeps in the corner. I can hear him breathing, slow and even, and the air conditioner is humming in the hallway, and nothing else. It’s all just… quiet.

I realize I haven’t talked to anyone in a while. I don’t see them around anymore. They’ve probably gone to sleep. I peek out the window, towards the houses in my street. A pit opens in my stomach as I realize that one by one, all their lights have gone off.

I pull the blanket up to my chin. I really am alone again. There’s nothing I can’t do about it now. Not at midnight. Not when there’s still so many dark hours ahead.

Questions form in my mind. How will I stay awake, all alone for all the dark hours yet to come? How did I let it get like this? This quiet? And it’s been dark for a while, I know that. I know it’s my fault, the way I get when the sun starts setting. I can’t help it. It’s all I can do to shut myself inside my home and turn off all the lights. And lie here awake. I know I should have tried to do something about it while there was still some sunlight left, but it’s too late now. Somehow I always end up here. In my bed, feeling swallowed by the mattress and the covers, unable to see anything but the dark.

On nights like this, when everyone seems happily asleep in their own homes, and content with their lives, I know they’ve forgotten about me. And I feel it, so deeply within my chest, that the sun will never rise again. Not for me, anyway. 

I do think about calling someone. Maybe Jenny, who I haven’t really spoken to in a while. The last time I talked to her, it was late afternoon, and she was telling me some story about a woman at work. I tried to listen, but I kept getting distracted by the thought of the sun setting, since it was around the time I could already start to feel it. When we parted, I could tell she knew I wasn’t giving her my full attention. I don’t think she had a great time with me. So, I don’t think I can call her now. She’s probably asleep. I can't wake her, I don’t think she would want to talk to me now.

The night creeps on. It’s 2 am, maybe 3. I’ve stopped checking the clock. I stare at the ceiling and try to remember what mornings feel like. How the house looks when the light starts coming in. How the floorboards get warm and the living room feels bigger, more open. I try to picture it, but it keeps slipping away, like I’m trying to remember a place I’ve only seen in pictures. And I feel so frustrated for how I took it for granted then. All I wish is to go back to the afternoon, to when the sun loomed over from the middle of the sky, and my biggest complaint was the heat on my neck, and how I couldn’t wait for it to cool down. I wish I could have known to - 

My phone chimeS. 

Strange, since I assumed everyone would be asleep. I check it anyway. And it's a text. It’s a text from Jonah. Hey, what are you doing tonight?. So strange, he should be asleep. 

Jonah lives just down the street, so I sit up and look out the window toward his house. I expect it to be completely black. I picture him tucked into bed, sleeping soundly, without a care in the world, without a single corner of his mind left for me. But there it is. A small glow at the back of the house, soft and blue. I try to picture him in his TV room, sprawled on the couch, scrolling through movies for an hour and never deciding on one.

Should I reply? I don’t think so. I don’t want to see him right now, even though a small part of me is begging me to. But I can’t. It’s too late, and the night is too heavy. He knows how I get at this hour. I wouldn’t be any fun.

So, I let the message go unanswered, which I’m sure Jonah won’t even notice. And the phone never chimes again. 

But I can’t stop looking at the window. I keep waiting for his light to go out, because that’s what happens at night. The lights go out one by one, until there’s nothing left. But his doesn’t. Minutes pass, maybe an hour, and it’s still there, small and stubborn at the back of his house.

I read the text again. Then again. It’s such a small thing, five words, nothing special. But he typed them. Down the street, in the middle of the night, he thought of me. Even though I'm here, under my covers in my dark house, all the lights turned off, he thought of me. He scrolled through his contacts, or maybe I was right at the top, and he stopped on my name and decided it was worth a shot.

I don’t know what to do with that. It sits in my chest like something warm I’ve swallowed, too small to fill me up, but it’s there.

Time stretches. The dog shifts in his sleep and sighs. Outside, I don’t hear a sound. I close my eyes and open them again, and nothing has changed except that I’m more tired, and the blanket feels heavier, and the ceiling feels closer. I count the cracks in the wood. I lose count and start again. 

The chocolate chips. They’re in the cupboard above the stove, I remember. I bought them weeks ago, on one of the good afternoons. I was so excited to bake the cookies. I do love baking. I would take my sweet time in the grocery store picking all the ingredients, and shape the cookies in just the right way. And everyone else loves my baked goods. So, I loved to hand them out. I’d promised everyone, actually. I remember I'd promised everyone the last time we all hung out in Jonah's house, that I’d make them chocolate chip cookies soon.

I don’t want to. I don’t want to do it at all. Just thinking about it makes me tired, measuring the flour, creaming the butter, standing up for that long. It would be so much easier to stay here. And nobody would actually remember I’d promised to make them. In fact, it’s been so long I think it’d be weird if I made them now.

But I did promise, so I force myself to get up, even though the floor is cold under my feet. I walk to the kitchen and turn on the light over the stove, because I can't bake in the dark. Then the one over the counter, because I need to see the measurements. And then, since I’m already turning things on, the hallway and the living room too, even though the lights in my house aren’t very cozy and they make the place look like an Ikea. I turn them on anyway, one by one, until the whole house is too bright.

I pour myself a glass of water and drink the whole thing at the sink. I fill the dog’s empty bowl. I pour the cold tea down the drain and wash the mug. Then I take the chocolate chips down from the cupboard.

The first few steps are the hardest. I measure the flour slowly, like it weighs more than it should. And I really don't want to keep doing this, but after I’m done with the eggs, which is my least favorite part, I put on the music I like to dance to when the sun is out, and my shoulders loosen a little. While the dough chills in the fridge, I start cleaning the mess I’d left when the evening began slipping away. The living room first, then the bedroom. I even get the sudden urge to organize my closet.

I'm folding a pair of jeans when I remember the text.

Hey, what are you doing tonight?

I’d almost forgotten it was there. I pick up my phone and stare at it for a long time. Maybe he’s fallen asleep now. Maybe it is too late, and he doesn't want to hear from me anymore, not at this hour, not after I’ve ignored him. My thumb hovers over the screen.

I type it anyway. Sorry, just saw this. Can’t sleep. Baking, apparently.

I send it before I can think too much about it, put the phone down on the bed, and go back to folding. I don't check it again. 

And I dance a bit, in the middle of the night, all alone, with every light in the house on.

Dawn

It came slowly, dawn. I was so sure it wouldn’t. To be honest, I didn’t even realize it was here until I saw the streaks of sunlight on the floor. I could see the small lines in the laundry room, the only place that was still somewhat dark inside my house. At first I thought it was definitely a street light, or a car. But surely not the sun.

It caught me in the kitchen. I was taking the cookies out of the oven. And my dog was beside me, his nose lifted toward the smell. And in the background, I had on the music I always like to listen to. I broke one of the cookies in half even though it was too hot and burned my fingertips, and I ate it standing at the counter. It was soft and the chocolate was still melted, and it tasted exactly like I remembered. It made me feel exactly like I remembered, too. The warmth and pride of having made these myself.

I looked down at myself. Flour on my sweater, my hair messy and my feet bare on the tiles. I looked like someone who had been busy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d looked like that.

My phone buzzed on the counter, flour on the screen from the last time I’d picked it up. Jonah. ok but you better bring over the burnt ones. you know they’re my favorite. I smiled and set it back down. I’d answer in a minute. 

I had called Jenny at some point too, without thinking too much about it. I’m not sure what time it was, and I know she might have been asleep, but I wanted to tell her about a new movie that was coming out, and I wanted to see if she wanted to watch it with me in the cinema. Jenny picked up, and we talked for a while and made plans to see the movie. She didn't seem annoyed or mad that I’d woken her. She sounded happy, actually. And she was excited for our plans. She was excited to see me. And when we hung up, and the sound of her voice was substituted by the silence, and I was completely alone again, I realized I couldn’t feel the heavy darkness wrapping me.

I sat down on the kitchen floor with my back against the cabinets, admiring how clean I'd left everything. Making a mental note of remembering to take out the clothes I'd put in the drier. And that’s when I noticed it. The floor was warm. Not everywhere, just one little patch beside me, in a thin golden line coming from the window.

Oh? I couldn't let myself hope. Had the sun really come up? I walked near the window, and I was shaking, I won't lie. Scared I'd be met by the familiar darkness. But I opened the blinds anyway. And there it was, the sun, beginning to find its high place in the sky.

How could I have missed it? How did I miss the one thing I was yearning for the most during the night? The one thing I was trying and failing to find. How had I missed the first streak of light peeking through the horizon? Had I been so distracted?

Excitement rushed into me. I realized that I could do all the things I wanted to do before it got dark. If I wanted to, I could go to the park right now and walk my dog, and it wouldn't feel like a heavy burden to bear. I could go to the grocery store and pick up some more ingredients. Or even to Jonah's house, unannounced, and knock on his door and I wouldn't be afraid to wake him. Because the sun was out, and it was a brand new day.

The fear was still inside me, of course, that someday again it might be night. And the darkness will come and swallow me whole. But in this moment, seeing the soft light of the early sun, I felt at peace. Even though the light was still dim, it held a promise of a bright day ahead. And I felt a bit silly about thinking that the sun wouldn’t come. Because how could the darkness make me feel so sure that it was here to stay forever, when the sun has proven time and time again that it has a habit of returning.