The Sun and Three Rooms

I was tired of this house, its seemingly tangible smell of dank decay, its cracked floorboards under every other step, and the enclosing color of rotten wood. I’d been here too long; I’d woken up and seen the same ceiling too many times.

Today was the day I’d finally leave, the day I’d see the sun in its fullest, finally more than what shone in through the cracks in the wood of the walls. (The windows were always blanketed with heavy curtains, and I wasn’t supposed to open those.)

I looked down at the chair I sat in, a rocking chair that would never rock again, but not just because I was leaving it. I’d taken the rockers off long ago. I’d always had a fear of falling backwards when I reached what felt like the final point of the rock.

From across the room I heard the steady, patronizing exhale of a tired man.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. I looked him in the eyes, daring him to continue. It was an empty threat. He barked a laugh. “You really want to leave this place, don’t you?” he asked with a gruesome twist of his head, sharpening the shadow of his nose on his cheek.

He wore a gray, tailored suit with black shoes, his legs crossed, his visible stubble adding a significant touch to his character. His black hair, combed back, tight against his scalp.

“Maybe I do,” I said, adrenaline pounding. “I’ve been here long enough, haven’t I?” We had had this conversation before, at least twice.

“I don’t think you’re ready yet.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You haven’t shown me any meaningful improvement. You know that. It’s your fault, you haven’t allowed it.”

“Allowed what?”

“The change I’m trying to bring you!”

“I don’t need any of your damned change.”

“I’m only trying to strengthen your character.”

“Well I’m done with it. I want out of this house.” I stood up.

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders, looking at his knees. “Suit yourself. You’ll regret it.”

I ignored him.

This was it.

I walked out of the room and into the hallway, a narrow, murky passage into the kitchen. The kitchen was surprisingly well lit, and I wasn’t sure what was causing the astounding brightness.

I stepped onto the hilly linoleum, the floor having buckled underneath, and brought my arm to my eyes to shield them from the light.

“Why is the window open?” I asked.

“I opened it, of course,” he said. He was in the kitchen now, but I knew he hadn’t walked there.

“But you said-”

“I know what I’ve said. But they are my own rules, and I can break them if I please. Now, take your arm away from your face.”

“Too bright,” I muttered.

“You’ll find your eyes adjust and it’s really quite pleasant.”

I wasn’t sure, but I did as directed.

At first it burned, and I had to blink for several seconds before I could hold my eyes open, even at a squint.

“You’re right, it’s beautiful,” I said quietly, feeling the warmth of the daylight, looking at a spot on the wall a few inches from the dirt-speckled glass. It was still too painful to focus.

“Yes it is,” he said, moving closer to the window, tilting his head to see something further away outside. “And this is what you’ll be going into.”

“You were right before,” I admitted. “I’m not ready for that place.”

“No, wait a minute,” he said as I turned back to the hallway. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“What?”

“I think you should leave.”

“Why?” I asked, uneasy.

“You’ve been in this house longer than any previous person I’ve known, and you seem to be a lost cause. You deserve to go back out, just to enjoy what you can until the inevitable comes to greet you.”

“I think I do need more time!” I said pleadingly. “It’s all too bright out there, and I think it may be different than I thought…” My voice trailed away.

“No. If you stay, I won’t be able teach you anything else anyway.”

“Please, please, let me stay, won’t you?” I grabbed his sleeve, practically wringing it in my hands.

He looked down them, sneering. “No. Ready or not, your time has come.”

“I made a mistake! I don’t know what made me think the way I did, I never should have argued. This is my place now! I belong here!”

“No you don’t. Only the ones who actually understand can stay here, and you’ve never been one of those people. I thought at first you were worth a try, but I was terribly wrong.”

“No! You can try a little more, can’t you? I’m sure I’ll adapt!”

He shook his head, looking back towards the window. “No,” he said, smiling. “That’s your place now. It is what you so wanted not three minutes ago.”

“I was foolish!” I screamed.

He took me by the collar and tossed me like so much garbage at the door, where I crumpled.

“Get out,” he commanded calmly.

My hands, shaking, reached up to the door and twisted the knob as he had told me to do. I felt more of that horrible warmth coming through the gap of the open door as I pulled it open, my body jerking with intense sobs.

I crawled over the threshold, eyes closed again, and heard that same crack-like laugh in front of me and to my left, where he leaned against the outside wall of the house.

“This is your new kingdom, my friend,” he said, his voice wet with malice.

“I don’t want this as my kingdom. I want to go back where it’s not so vibrant, not so… alive,” I mumbled. I remained on all fours, eyes shut tightly.

“Look out. Embrace what I’ve given you,” he laughed.

I had to. And I did. I opened my eyes and cried out as I felt the image sear into my mind.

“I don’t want it anymore god damn it! I want to go back into my room, I want to see that same ceiling again, I want to walk on the same floor again, I want to smell the same smells again- PLEASE!”

He stepped away from the wall and crouched down in front of me, glaring at me merrily.

“Are you sure?” he asked with a look of pleased understanding.

“Yes,” I sighed, my arms weak, elbows locked.

“Then we’ll never speak of this again, will we?”

“Of what?” I asked.

“Of leaving! Your head only tells you you want to come out here, when really you just want to stay in there with me, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” I answered resignedly. “That’s what I want.”

“Good,” he said, and led me back indoors, back into my home, back into the place where I’d never leave until the day I died.

“Thank you,” I said to him.

He laughed once more. “You’re welcome. Now, go back into your room. Back to your ceiling, the same you’ll see until the day you die.”

I did as I was told, but that image, the one of the sun in its fullest, I knew would never fade.