Of Ants and Mailboxes

“It’s getting cold.”

“It is.” She said, leaning her head back.

“It’ll be dark soon,”

“Mhm.”

It was dismissive, but I didn’t mind. She was obviously preoccupied. I looked out the window, the one of the two that faced away from the neighbors’ house and chipped garage door. The sun was fading quickly into the massive, dark horizon, slipping out of view like a taillight through the fog.

Her room was large and looked out over the hills. At night you could see the far off lights of the oil drills along the shoreline. There wouldn’t be too many of those soon enough. Oftentimes you could see as far as the islands, but today the air was thick, and I could only see out to their lonely mailbox as it sat on the corner.

“Rachel?”

She answered by opening her eyes once, then shutting them again.

“Look, what’s wrong? You invited me over and you’ve been moody all day, or since class ended, anyway. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on.”

She opened her eyes and sat up a little. “You know he likes her?”

“Who – oh, him? He does? Huh. It’s sickening, isn’t it?”

“Nauseating. She rubs it in my face – she knows I used to like him, and she does it on purpose now.”

Her eyes were closed again, so I looked out the window. Something about the way the fog slipped forward and back and forward again between the window and the lamppost across the street seemed fitting.

“I feel like I’m losing everyone,” She went on, brushing some hair out of her eyes with a lazy, long-nailed hand. “Him, and now her – well, she’s always been a horror, but now she’s just... ugh.”

“You’ve still got me,”

“Yeah...”

There was a silence, in which I noted that the blinds were dusty, and the mailbox outside was cracked. There was also a bit of rust near the little red flag. I hadn’t noticed it before.

“I don’t know why it bothers me so much,” she said, drumming her fingers on her chin. “I don’t like him anymore. And well, I never liked her.”

“Don’t let it bother you,” I said. Age old wisdom. “Stupid people shouldn’t bring you down,”

“They’re not.” She said suddenly. Her eyes flew up to mine and there was some sort of contempt in them. Then – “They’re not.” The last one was supposed to sound nonchalant. I knew her better.

I studied the floor. A little ant was crawling past my shoe, towards Rachel. I put a piece of paper in its way so it had to turn around. She might have crushed it, after all.

She leaned her head down on her own shoulder. “I’m sorry... really. I know I’ve been weird... I don’t know what’s going on. I just feel like I don’t know anybody anymore. They’re all changing and I’m stuck in the same rut – or, maybe I’m changing, and they’re all stuck. I just...”

Shadows were starting to creep around the room, spreading out and onwards from the corners. They were falling across her face in a curious sort of way, making lines in places I didn’t often see. The lighting certainly was strange.

“...I don’t feel like anything fits anymore.”

I watched the mailbox disappear as a sudden gathering of mist passed by slowly. I looked at my shoes.

“I don’t fit anymore?”

There was a brief silence. It’s funny how much a silence can say. When I finally looked up, Rachel was watching the ant. It was trying to get into a crack in the wall.

“He’s stuck,” she said, bending over him.

I watched the ant, and then I watched Rachel. The shadows in the room were growing, and my face felt hot.

“Just because they’re being nasty to you doesn’t mean you can be nasty to me.” I said. She didn’t move. “You can’t let people like that push you around. I mean, I don’t have that many friends, but at least that means I don’t have to parcel myself out to people.”

She put her finger near the ant, and I wondered if she’d heard. Funny how I’d been getting that feeling recently.

“You’ve got to stand up for yourself sometimes. I try to do it for you, but you’ve got to learn to do it yourself.”

The ant put out its’ feelers, felt Rachel’s finger, and climbed onto it. She lifted it up to the window sill. I could see nothing of the outside now.

I sprang to my feet and pushed her hand away from the window.

“Can’t you listen to me when I talk to you!”

“Oh go away!” She cried. Her eyes were large and dark in the unlit room, and I found myself thinking it strange, not being able to see even the color of someone’s eyes. “If you were so perfect you’d know when to stop! Just leave me alone!”

I stepped back, watching the girl in front of the window. The ant found a crack and disappeared. For a moment, the fog shifted and a slice of indigo sky filtered through. But then it too was gone.

I asked again, slower this time. “I don’t fit anymore?”

The voice coming from my mouth was small in comparison to the large room. Maybe it didn’t even reach the corners.

She just stood there for a minute without moving, and then suddenly sat down on the bed without a sound. I stared.

“Want a jacket?” She said, without looking anywhere particular. “You look cold.”

I looked again at the window. There was absolutely nothing now – even the fog was gone. There was only night.

“It’s dark. I’d better go.”

She nodded, and as I turned to go, she looked around the room. She looked at the darkness, the empty spaces filled with just air – she hadn’t noticed it before.