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It started like most things Mildred supposed, in the fact that she could not remember what the start was. Memory loss, according to her neighbor, Elizabeth Phelps, was the first sign that one was going mad.
Mad she was.
It started that way, but like any good beginning, it was only a means to an end. Endings, Mildred saw them every day. A too pretty girl walking in front of a too-fast car. A too intelligent young lady picking too many fights with too powerful of authorities. Endings were a given, a constant, a comfort.
Knowing this Mildred wasn’t surprised when she began to see her marriage reach one. It’s not that she didn’t care, it’s that she knew that she shouldn’t. Endings were the natural way of things, so when Guy stopped holding his end of the bargain, so did she. She would not grieve the loss of her love, she’s never really sure that it was that way to begin with, but what’s an ending without a beginning--- only she didn’t quite remember if there was one. Organisms in the wild often form what is called a “symbiotic relationship”, clownfish with anemones, fruit bats and fig trees, Mr. and Mrs. Montag. She’d have to get used to it.
This was when she met the family.
She traded in one relationship for another, or rather, many. With Guy often away at work, she found comfort in the way she belonged somewhere. In her too empty home, with her too white of walls, and too clean of surfaces, she had her family; a family with an ending that she could control. When the ever-present scent of kerosene strengthened in the room she would exchange hellos with her husband, anemone, fig tree, that is, Until he stopped saying hello back. Planets orbiting around the same star slowly, slowly drifting farther apart. The eight planets only align every 396 billion years or so; Mildred would not grieve the loss of her marriage.
Soon enough she began to read scripts for the family, she’d say a line and they’d reply. She replaced hellos to Guy with hellos to Barbara, to Susan, to Greg.
To her neighbor, Lizzy.
Elizabeth Phelps was beautiful, beautiful in the way that sunsets were to her as a young girl. Only now does Mildred realize the beauty in the fact that the sun sticks around the whole day. Lizzy was the star Mildred orbited; never reaching too close, but never straying too far. The sun is 5,788 degrees kelvin, space ships can be 1.3 million miles away at the closest, Mildred never got that close. Mildred would not grieve the loss of her marriage.
No instead she would listen to podcasts, hang out with her family, and talk to Lizzy.
***
“Milly, you simply must come over, for I’ve baked much too large a cake to eat alone.”
Lizzy’s husband was off at war, leaving her alone for months at a time. It was only right of Mildred to keep her company. Lizzy’s house was much like her own, vacant walls, white floors, and clean surfaces that you could see your face on--- only it didn’t smell of kerosene, but rather, the very same chocolate cake her family made. It was a welcomed difference.
“Oh, Lizzy you’ve simply outdone yourself!”
“Have I really?”
“Very much so!”
They only finished half of the cake before they left for the parlour. The family was on. All 4 walls displaying the ones she loved most, and at her side on the plush couch, her best friend. They sat there for a while, the consistent buzz of familial conversation on screen as they enjoyed a companionable silence. It was almost reminiscent of her old family. She couldn’t quite remember them, she couldn’t quite remember if she ever sat like this with Guy, and she couldn’t quite fathom why she and Lizzy didn’t do this more often. God, she truly was going mad.
“What’s the time Milly?”
“It’s only mid-afternoon.”
“Shouldn’t Guy be home soon?”
“I suppose so, should we enjoy some more of that lovely cake you made?”
“We shall!”
Lizzy’s house was a lot like Mildred’s own, yes, but it never felt that way. At Mildred’s house, the hours stretched long, like a rubber band she was frightened would one day snap. The white walls and floors too sterile, too expansive like she could stare at them forever and become lost in a field of snow.
Lizzy’s house was different. The ever-present ticking in her head is replaced by laughter, the walls a white flag, peace. It was only natural for her to prefer it to her own, even with her husband's occupance.
Lizzy was her best friend
“Can I tell you something, Liz?”
“Go on.”
“I don’t think me and Guy are meant for each other anymore.”
No, she didn’t. Mildred had come to realize that the two weren’t in the same solar system. It was almost too easy for her to admit this to Lizzy.
“Well that’s alright Milly, he's only your first.”
Lizzy was on her third husband, of course she felt this way. Mildred tried to understand her point of view, she really did. It was only that Mildred’s life was theoretically perfect, only the fact that Lizzy had had several past marriages gave her the confidence to reveal the nature of her and Guy’s relationship.
Mildred grew up on the beach, this she remembers. She remembers the sand, and how looking out to the ocean felt like looking out to the edge of the world. She remembered her former best friend, her intellectual take on the world around her.
“Mils, you know there’s much more for us out there, right? That the ocean may seem like the edge of the world, but we’re living on a sphere. That it may seem like we just need to get to the other side, but the truth of the matter is that life is a möbius strip.”
Mildred couldn’t remember her face, she couldn’t even remember her name. What Mildred did remember was the sound of her house going up in flames. There might have been more out there for Mildred, she may have sailed out to find that the world was round. There may have been more out there for her, but she was married to a fireman, she had her family, and she had Lizzy. Yes, there may have been more out there for her, but what she had was enough. What she had was theoretically perfect.
“Milly, you know they’re replaceable, right? Why do you look so down, dear?”
Mildred didn’t cry, she hadn’t cried in a long time. Looking at Lizzy’s too-long eyelashes, too soft looking lips, and too flawless skin, she realized that she wanted to. She wanted to cry because she was sailing, sailing off the edge of the world. She wanted to cry because she was standing there on the beach watching her best friend’s house burn down. But most of all, she wanted to cry because she wanted to kiss Elizabeth Phelps.
She wanted to kiss Elizabeth Phelps because she didn’t remind her of her theoretically perfect life. She wanted to kiss Elizabeth Phelps because she was once more, there on the beach living a different memory. She wanted to kiss Elizabeth Phelps to see if this life was a möbius strip, to see if the world was truly a sphere. She wanted to kiss Elizabeth Phelps because she was Mildred’s best friend.
Mildred hadn’t even registered her leaning over the table until instead of kerosene, she smelt chocolate frosting.
“Milly?”
“Liz, Can I kiss you?”
She truly was sailing over the edge of the world.
“Yes”
Oh dear, she was.
Kissing Elizabeth Phelps didn’t feel like a beginning, but it didn’t feel like an ending either. She expected to feel like falling but she was still sailing, sailing over the great ocean blue. She had gotten closer than spaceships ever had before. She must have been at most 1.299 million miles away, and she was burning. She was too close to the sun as Icarus was (like her faceless best friend would say), and she was burning. What was it that Guy always said? That it was a pleasure to burn? It truly was.
She was burning as that house all those years ago.
Mildred stopped. She got up out of her seat and left without another word. Mildred knew what happened to those who didn’t follow rules, she had a husband, a fireman husband at that.
Mildred walked into her too empty house, with her too white of walls, and too clean of surfaces, and lost herself in the embrace of the snow-covered wasteland. Guy wasn’t yet home. Organisms in the wild often form what is called a “symbiotic relationship”, clownfish with anemones, fruit bats and fig trees, Mr. and Mrs. Montag, Mildred and sleeping pills.
She lied down and waited for the rubber band to snap as her once white-filled vision faded to black.
She truly was mad.