The Disappearing Act

After the snooze alarm goes off Alex gets out of bed. The only thing on Alex’s mind is how much he wishes that he didn’t have to get out of bed. Lately, being out in the world— just being out of his bedroom— felt like too much. This feeling wasn’t new to Alex. What set it off this time, Alex had no clue. Scrolling through his phone to avoid getting up for the next few moments, Alex tries to make the feeling go away by rationalizing. I have a job that pays my bills, I have a great girlfriend, I talk to my friends most days of the week. Focusing on the good things in his life never seems to make him feel any better, though. In fact, it always makes him feel worse. Because of top of that feeling of not wanting to have to leave his bed for the rest of his life, thinking about all the reasons he’s “lucky”, makes him feel guilty, too.

Yes, he does have it better than some. He’s not starving. He’s at the beginning of his career but has a lot of potential. It’s not something he ever pictured himself doing, but the hours are stable, and he gets weekends off. He has a roof over his head. Alex has more than a lot of people. So why does getting out of bed feel like a monumental task? Why does he feel like another part of his soul died as he clocks in each morning? These were the questions that bothered Alex as he managed to make it into the shower.

As much as Alex would have liked to think about these questions all day long, that was a luxury he did not possess. Although not terribly hard, his job did require some concentration. Despite not wanting to leave his bedroom, Alex would prefer not to lose his job. Losing his job would send him into a downward spiral. The thing is, is that even though Alex had trouble with being out in the world, he did not have the desire to die. He knew these feelings would pass, as they always did. And, so, having obligations helped him wait out these feelings.

By the time Alex got home, he was wiped. Instead of cooking for himself, he orders food. That reminded him that he needed to locate his credit card. That task had slipped his mind. He rarely used it. But, if it was stolen, he knew he needed to notify the company so they could block it. He double checked his wallet. No luck. He then checked all the drawers in the kitchen and his nightstand. Nothing. He dug through the couch, removing the cushions. How it would have gotten there, Alex wasn’t sure. All he knew was that it was better to flip the place upside down to be sure that the card was gone.

Unfortunately, Alex’s search attempt was unsuccessful. The only thing he found was a lot of dust under his furniture. Tired and defeated, Alex changed, putting on a comfy pair of red and blue checkered pajama pants and a dark blue T-shirt. The blue in his pants and the blue of his shirt didn’t match at all. That was something Alex didn’t really care about it. His girlfriend on the other hand, would have if she was here. Speaking of…, Alex thought to himself as he pulled out his phone. He hadn’t texted Liv since yesterday. That fact may make Alex seem like a neglectful boyfriend, but Liv was at a work conference and was working before Alex even got up in the morning. Alex listens intently to the ringing as he waits for Liv to pick up. When he hears her voicemail, he hangs up. He reassures himself that she’ll get back to him when she can. Before he can overthink it, the delivery driver arrives with his food. Alex plants himself in front of the tv.

When his alarm goes off the next morning, Alex startles awake. He reaches over, turning the alarm off. He tries to remember what happened last night. He is able to recall his frantic search for his credit card and ordering his takeout. He also remembers trying to reach Liv with no luck. What he doesn’t remember is eating the food he ordered, what he watched while he ate, and most importantly, when he fell asleep.

Even a nice, hot shower and a cup of coffee couldn’t make him remember the last part of his night. As he grabs his keys off the hook, he decides not to worry about it. The day would be busy enough without having to worry about falling safely asleep in his own house. What does stress him out is the heavy traffic that makes him late for work. As soon as he gets into the building, he wastes no time settling in his office and picking up where he left off yesterday afternoon.

Call it lazy or disgusting, but when Alex gets home, he puts on the same pajama pants he wore last night. Alex didn’t know if wearing the same pajamas a few nights in a row was normal practice for other people. But he was never confident enough to ask. He found his pants right where he left him on his bed. He swore he left his T-shirt there, too. Confused, Alex looks under his bed. Nope, nothing. Frustrated by his new trait of forgetfulness, Alex begrudgingly pulls out another T-shirt from his closet.

This time when Alex wakes up, he’s at least in bed. As he rubs his eyes, he tries to remember last night. The T-shirt! he thinks to himself, wondering if he ever found out what happened to it. He sits in bed for a few minutes, thinking. All he can remember is putting his keys on the hook and changing into his pajamas. Freaked out, Alex, still in his pajamas, starts retracing his steps. After about fifteen minutes of walking back and forth between the door and his bedroom, Alex gives up. With his head in his hands, he mutters, “What the hell is going on?”

Not being able to waste any more time thinking about the last two nights, Alex gets dressed. Thank God it’s Friday. Friday means that he can wear jeans, a button-up, and a tie. No slacks, no nice shoes that hug his feet in all the wrong ways, no blazer. Despite the more simplistic outfit, Alex still can’t make it out the door on time. He spent too much time trying to fill in the blanks. To fend off the boredom of the slow workday, Alex looks up the sudden onset of memory gaps. Reading all the different articles only panics him. By the time he leaves, he questions whether it’s worth going to the doctor. It’s only been two days, right? That’s nothing, he thinks, reassuring himself.

Keys are all Alex can think about the next morning. Where did he leave his keys? He scolds himself for not being able to remember, and even more so for not leaving them on the hook like usual. If only Liv were there, she’d be able to tell him where his keys were. That thought makes him stop cold in his tracks. When was the last time he talked to Liv? There was the night that he tried to call her. But that night is becoming fuzzy. It was only because he paused his frantic search that he realized something else was missing. The painting on the wall. It’s not there.

He had that painting since he was in college. It was the first really nice thing that he’d bought for himself. No matter where he lived, that painting was always hanging somewhere visible to everyone who came inside. Maybe it was ridiculous to be proud of the painting. It wasn’t like he painted the damn thing. But he was proud of it because it cost him a lot of money, especially for a college kid who could only afford to go to school because of his scholarships. Any “extra” money he had was usually spent of things like deodorant. Alex could only buy that painting because he had his credit card with him at the art exhibit. He had never considered using his credit card until he saw that painting. Even then, it took him almost two and half hours to decide to get it. He wasn’t comfortable about having to use the credit card, but something about the painting called to him. It was like the thing was speaking directly to Alex’s soul. It took him about seventeen months to pay off his credit card. Despite that, Alex never regretted buying that painting.

And now, not seeing hanging in its usual crushed him. He wanted to cry. The shock kept him from doing so. How long had it been gone? Maybe it was stolen. He didn’t think the painting would be worth that much, though. All of Alex’s close friends have been in the apartment. But one of them couldn’t have done it. They all knew how important it was to him. They’d have to be heartless to do that to him because of the sentimental value Alex had placed on that painting.

Coming to his senses, Alex dialed Liv. When he hears her voicemail, Alex hangs up. He dials her again and again and again. At some point, he leaves a message. His message is centered on the painting, but he mentions the memory gaps. When Liv still doesn’t answer after the tenth call, Alex tries his best friend, Jeremy, who doesn’t answer, either. He tries all of his friends. None of them pick up. Then, he tries his mom. He’s not sure what she would be able to do from the other side of the country, but it doesn’t matter. He just needs someone, anyone to pick up. When the worst thing you can bearably imagine happens, all most people want is to know that they have at least one person there for them. Alex questions how dramatic he’s being. He realizes he doesn’t care. This the end of the world. And when the world is ending, and not even your mom picks up, it’s devasting.

Alex finally sinks to the floor. He sobs, his chest aching. He knew that if anyone knew he was sobbing over a five-hundred-dollar painting, they’d think he was mental. Alex thought he was mental. He knew it wasn’t normal. When you grow up with the bare minimum, being in a position to get nice things for yourself is an incredible accomplishment. Alex was proud of himself for all the things he managed to accomplish for himself. He had to work ten times harder, ten times longer, ten times smarter, just to himself here. The symbol of his persistence being ripped away destroyed him, turning all his pride to dust.

By the time he picked himself off the floor, the sun had set. Now that he cried out all his disappointment, he felt empty. He surprisingly had an appetite again. Maybe having some food in his system and a good night’s sleep would help clear his mind. The rational thing would be to file a police report. There’s no way he could do that in his current state, though. Cooking in this stupor would also not be a good idea. So, he orders food. These days, the majority of his meals was fast food. He’d feel ashamed about that later. Alex wasn’t conscious of where he had put his phone when he was crying. From his position on the couch, he could see it wasn’t on the coffee table. Maybe it got pushed under the couch when he was plastered to the floor. Alex moved onto all fours on the floor and lowered his head to peak under the couch.

Surprise, surprise, it was nowhere to be found. Alex tried to think if maybe he went into his room during his breakdown, so he goes into his bedroom. The first thing he notices is that the nightstands that were on each side of the bed were now gone. Needing to do something with his hands, Alex grabs his hair, not pulling it, just holding his head. He then lets out a frustrated, semi-muted scream. He doesn’t want his neighbors to hear. The last thing that he needed to deal with today is the cops showing up because the man in 2756 is screaming. Although, it would make making the police report for the painting more convenient.

Not knowing what else to do, Alex does the only thing he can handle; he grabs his laptop from his desk. On his computer he orders a medium pizza, some wings, dessert, and a two liter. If I’m going crazy, I might as well enjoy my meal, he thinks to himself. It strikes him that that might be the most coherent thoughts he’s had today. Instead of contemplating that further, he decides to drown everything out by watching tv.

If only it were that easy. Also missing from the coffee table is the tv remote. Furiously, Alex shoves his hand into the back of the couch. It wouldn’t be the first time the remote has been eaten by the couch. Alex failed to find it in the back of the couch. Was this some sort of sick joke that the universe was playing on him? Alex wasn’t sure. This was all too convenient to be real. Maybe it was just one bad, infuriating, and long nightmare. He tries to convince himself that tomorrow morning he’ll wake up with Liv in his bed next to him, and everything would all be exactly where he left them when he went to bed the night before.

Instead of calming him down, this made him angrier. Alex picked up his laptop from its resting spot and chucked it across the room. Had Alex’s prized painting been hanging up where it usually was, the laptop would have hit the center of it, probably damaging it. This fact gave him some relief. It was possible that Alex was just getting used to the universe’s sick sense of humor. It worried Alex that he was starting to get comfortable in this new reality. Since the painting wasn’t there, though, the laptop left a nasty mark on the wall. Alex falls onto his couch, leaving the broken pieces of his laptop scattered on the floor.

This time, it’s not an alarm that causes Alex to wake. It’s a rhythmic beeping sound. Forgetting that his phone currently wasn’t in his possession, he thought it could have been his alarm. Once he remembered his current predicament, though, he jumped out of bed. Alex had only one mission at that point: figure out where the beeping was coming from. The first thing Alex thought of checking was his fire alarms. He went to each one, waiting for a beep and flashing light that never came. He checked the stove next. Knowing he couldn’t have left the stove on it’s no surprise that the stove was not the source of the beeping. The tv, maybe. Nope.

After the fourth time running around the house, Alex gives up. It wasn’t his house beeping. Sitting on his bed, he tries to ignore the beeping. It’s only when he tries to ignore that he realizes that it’s gotten louder since he woke up. Although the beeping wasn’t deafening, there was no ignoring it. It was too loud to drown out. Eventually, he got used to the sound. He didn’t have it in him to go check the time on the stove to see how long it had been. It's only when he hears something else that he sits up. At first, it sounded like it was separate from the beeping. Then, Alex realized they were overlapping. He listened carefully. It was a voice. He couldn’t make out the words the voice was saying or whose voice it was. It stopped. The beeping persisted. Another voice started speaking. It felt as if his heart was hit by a train and exploded. He instantly recognized this voice. The blood rushing in his ears drowns out her words, though.

“LIV!” Alex shouted. He bolted out of his room. As he made it through his house, he kept shouting, trying to find Liv. “Are you here? You wouldn’t believe what’s been happening.”

As he passed through each room, without seeing Liv, the hope he’d felt slowly turned into confusion. Alex stared at the front door, realizing Liv wasn’t there. Terror ran through his body. His heart was now racing. He couldn’t breathe. He collapsed to the floor. He put one hand on the floor, attempting to steady himself, the other on his chest. He tried to control his breathing. With each failed attempt at a deep breath, his heart beat harder. He gasped for air.

As if he wasn’t terrified enough, he realized that the beeping had also increased in speed. The beeping wasn’t an electrical appliance, he realized. It wasn’t an auditory hallucination. All morning, Alex had been listening to his own heart beating. Under different circumstances, this could be considered a good thing. To feel your own heart beating meant that you were alive. But people couldn’t hear their own heart beating as if they were listening to it through a stethoscope.

Alex noticed that he could still hear Liv’s voice. The volume of her voice seemed muted against the volume of his heartbeat. What made it strange was Liv was screaming in terror. Her voice should be amplified. Alex is now lying on the floor, still struggling for oxygen. He can feel his limbs go numb. He can hear other voices in the room. Liv was speaking to nurses and doctors earlier, he realizes as his eyes close. The last thing he hears is the flatlining of his own heart.