Chapter Text
Calmness. Agony. Slumber. Outbreaks of hyperactivity. Messing up. Cleaning up. Anxiety. Conformity. Tears. Insomnia. Release. Blocks. These are some of the terms that can completely define my days at home in this quarantine. Some of them are quite the opposite, but that's how I started to live each day, like on a roller coaster.
Waking up, feeding my cats, feeding me, sitting at the computer to write and waiting for something to come out of my mind straight to the blank document, failing to continue my book, having a glass of wine and going to sleep. I never thought my routine would be so, but so simplified as this. However, there is not much to be expected when you are stuck at home.
Although not so many things have changed in my life since the world turned upside down, I can list some of the things that I miss, like going for a walk near the beach, going to the movies, sporadically meeting some friends from college and eating my mom's food at her house. Not many things, but, hey, I'm a simple man who is happy with little things.
One thing that I don't miss is the constant socialization that I was obliged to do. Seeing people every day was something I did out of pure professionalism, but I never found it necessarily to live. It may seem depressing, but this is how I lived all the years of my life. I’m fine on my own and I don't feel sad about it. Well, when I’m sad because of loneliness, at least I have important people to count on.
However, these days, the most I could get is some time by video calling with friends and family and, God, I miss my mum's hug so much. Yes, I'm 27 years old and I'm still mommy's boy, it is what it is. I was at her house before the quarantine started, on vacation. I went back to my small apartment and that's when it started, I got stuck here.
At first it was really weird, a mix of anxiety and fright came over me every time I switched on the news. Over time, I started not to be glued to that screen anymore while watching the news. I’d walk around the house, cook, do anything else, and at the same time just listen to what journalists from all over the world had to say.
In the end, I became listless and resigned to everything. Nothing bothered me anymore, just the fact that I hadn't been able to write for more than a month. That aspect of my routine has not changed, after all, as a writer, I’ve always worked from home. I only went to the publisher to solve paperworks and now they contact me when necessary.
However, creative blocks always frustrate me. I wonder if all my creativity was spent at the beginning of my career and now, years later, I live on crumbs derived from creative bursts once in a while.
I even tried to do other things, create other hobbies, all to try to activate the lever of creativity within my mind. I tried to learn a new instrument, bought a simple keyboard — since they always said that my big fingers would be an advantage for playing key instruments — and started practicing with online courses. It was fun, now I know how to play sparkles, sparkles, little stars.
I also tried to start painting when the music was not enough to wake me up. I was very surprised to see the canvas that I ordered to arrive, because it was much bigger than it showed in the ad on the site, maybe I read the wrong dimensions.
So, I painted that huge picture completely lost, since I had never even touched a brush. In the end, I considered what I did as just another abstract work of art that can be bought by millions at auctions and hung on the living room wall.
And even though I’ve spent all my artistic skills possible, the damn writer’s block wouldn't let me go. My deadline had already been extended about five hundred times in that quarantine, so I didn't have to hurry. But I wanted to write so badly! What I was able to do were short stories and chronicles, but the reality is worthless in those moments when you are a fantasy writer.
Frustrated, once again, I gave up working for the rest of the day and picked up my penultimate bottle of wine, heading for the porch, my last remnant of contact with the outside world.
The timing gave me a beautiful orange view at sunset. These were my moments of calm, where I seemed to be transported to a different dimension, perhaps due to the effect of alcohol, but I preferred to think as a result of the natural view of the sky over me.
I sat in the chair I always left there, putting my feet on the balcony railing, feeling completely at ease in a world of my own. I put the reddish liquid in the bowl and almost spilled it when Momo jumped on my lap. Loose cat.
I stood there, enjoying the breeze that gently caressed my face and lightly stroked the cat on my lap. Suddenly, I heard something falling, followed by a curse.
“Shit!”
I looked towards that movement and noticed that it was on the balcony next to mine. A man, who appeared to be the same age as me, was trying to pick up something on the floor without getting up from his chair. When he took what he wanted, I saw it was his cell phone and once again the man started to mumble.
I was watching him, because 1) I had never seen him in the building; 2) I was trying to find out if his cell phone broke in the fall and; 3) he was reading one of my books. The man realized he was being stared at and looked at me as well. Contrary to his displeasure with the recent event, he nodded in greeting, somewhat embarrassed.
“Is your cell phone alive?” I ventured to ask.
“Ah, yes, fortunately”, he laughed lightly, looking at the device in his hand. “No crack this time”
“That's great”, I concluded with a small smile and turned my vision to the nothing in front of me.
I wondered why I spoke to that stranger when I could have just ignored him as usual, but I was still surprised that he was reading my book.
“Excuse me…” I heard his voice again and turned my attention back to him. “I don't want to disturb you, but do you live here?”
I was surprised by his questioning and, a little confused, I laughed.
“Is it not obvious?” I said, trying not to look as sarcastic as that might sound.
“Sorry, it's just that…” He scratched the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile. “I thought there was no one living there”
“I've lived here for three years”
"Oh," he looked shocked. “Me too”, he laughed. “Seriously, I could swear that the most that lived in your apartment was some ghost who likes to play lullabies and some cats.”
I laughed embarrassed listening to this, still confused as to why we were talking.
“I'm not considered a noisy person”
“I could tell”
“But you live here at the same time as me and I never saw you either”
"How strange", his mouth twisted, thinking. “Maybe fate didn't want us to bump into each other in those halls”
“Perhaps”, I shrugged.
He spoke of fate and I started to think again. Fate is a funny thing. Did it really want us to be living what we are living today? I never stopped to think about it, but I can say that I believe that each one makes his own destiny. So I decided to do mine by asking what I wanted to know so much.
“This book you're reading ... are you enjoying it?”
“Ah, this one?” He held the book up a little so I could see the cover. “I'm reading it a second time, so I can say that I like it very much”
“Really?” I sounded more surprised than I expected. “Have you read the others in this saga?”
“Do you know it too?”
With his question I noticed my face warming slightly in shame, but I might as well say it was the effect of the wine acting faster.
“Actually…” I laughed, adjusting my glasses on my face. “I wrote that book”
“No way!” He opened his eyes wide, bewildered.
He passed the pages to the back cover, where there was a picture of me. He looked at the photo and then at me and repeated the process two more times.
“Is it so hard to believe that I wrote a book?” I joked, embarrassed.
“No. It's just hard to believe that the author of one of my favorite sagas lives in the apartment next to me”, he laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “Wow. What a great day!”
I laughed the way he acted - in my view, exaggeratedly - because of such basic information. My first impression of my neighbor was this: he is very exaggerated and, modesty aside, has a good taste for literature.
“You look older in that photo”, he commented, still analyzing the small photograph in the book.
“What good editing and makeup doesn't do, isn't it?”
“But you look more handsome in person”, he said without giving me time to prepare for the sudden compliment.
I never, ever , knew how to react to compliments, an embarrassed laugh or an indecipherable sound effect always came out of me followed by a thank you very small.
However, at that moment, I didn't understand why that stranger thought I was handsome, since I had a clean face - probably swollen, oily and red - with messy and dirty hair, by the way, and with big and crooked glasses over my nose. Because of that, I ended up choking on what I drank.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes”, I coughed some more and took a deep breath. “Just went down the wrong path”, I laughed weakly.
After that, it seemed that the conversation died. My neighbor went back to reading with his face buried in the pages and I stared at my cat in my lap. Was that interaction really weird? It's been a little over a month since I've had an interaction with someone that lasts more than two minutes. Did he find me inconvenient, perhaps? After all, I was just the ghost who lived next door.
I bit the inside of my lip a few times, wondering if I might as well go in or if I could at least wait to get completely dark. My fingers drummed restlessly on the arms of the chair when, for the second time, I heard someone else's voice, again, calling my attention.
“Mr. Nattawat, you…”, cleared his throat when I finally looked at his face again. “I know it must be uncomfortable, but ... could you sign my book?”
“Oh …”, I was taken by surprise again.
“I swear I've been quarantined since the beginning!”, he hurried to say. “If you want I can get my alcohol gel over there and…”
“No, you don't have to”, his rush made me laugh. “I'll sign your book. And, please, don’t need to call me Mr, I'm not used to it. Also, I’m sure we’re about the same age”
“Ok, sorry, you’re right! I just didn’t wanted to sound inappropriate”
“Don’t worry about it. You can call me just by Fourth”, I smiled.
He got up fast with a big smile and reached the edge of his porch, next to mine and stopped, scratching his head with a finger.
“Can you reach it?”
I spent two seconds trying to do that distance calculation, but my math skills are not so reliable. So I got up and stretched to get his book and pen and it wasn't difficult, it made me realize how close our balconies are and I never realized it. I also thought again that even though I was so close to my neighbor, I had never seen him around.
Still a little embarrassed by the whole situation, for no apparent reason, I smiled as I signed my name on his copy and was happy to see the size of his smile as well. I don't like to think that I have fans because of my books, but it's always good to see that there are people who like what I do.
“What is your name?”, I asked. “For the dedication”
“Ah, it's Gemini. Like the zodiac sign”
Nice name , I thought. I wrote your name under a small message, trying to make my handwriting flawed as legible as possible, I needed to make a good impression.
“Done”, I concluded and did the same as before to return his book and pen.
“Wow, thank you very much!” He said. “You made my day”
I laughed, covering my mouth with my fist, thinking it was overkill, but he looked really happy.
"It was nothing" I said, trying not to be so ashamed.
No matter how long I write, I never got used to the affection of those who read what I do and their compliments.
After that, we stood there facing each other, five feet between us, not saying anything. Gemini hugged his book as if it were a treasure, with a slight smile on his face. I didn't know what else to say, just kept thinking about how we’d never seen each other before in the building, much less there, on that balcony.
And as if he was reading my thoughts, he said:
“I had never thought about the possibility of spending time here on my balcony, but today that desire came to me”, he shrugged. “Do you stay there a lot?”
“Whenever I can”, I looked away. “It's like a way for me to remember that there is still a world out there, even if everything is different”
I thought I’d said something meh or strange, but to my relief Gemini smiled.
“It's a beautiful way of thinking”, he said. “If you don't mind, I'll spend more time here too and try to remember that things will get better at some point”
This time I smiled. I soon thought that there was something special about that day, if I could think that way during times like these. But that's what I should do, try to see something good in the little things so that I don't succumb to madness once and for all.
A little awkwardly, I nodded to Gemini and he did the same. It was like a silly agreement that we could go back to our chairs and be silent again until it got dark. As if nothing had happened.
But one thing happened.
The other day in the morning, I gave my brain one more chance to work, thinking “the time is now” and, without expecting much, I ended up being able to write for real. I was shocked by this, but I only realized what I had done when almost a chapter was ready.
I looked at the document, now filled with several pages, and found myself laughing, almost to the point of crying with emotion and screaming with happiness, yes! My creative block is gone!
It felt like magic, my fingers flowed freely over the computer keyboard as if dancing to the most beautiful of songs. And even better, I liked what I had written.
I didn't know what woke me up, but I didn't complain either. Apparently I just needed to take a longer break.
All hours of that day were dedicated exclusively to my book. I stopped only when Titi and Momo got on my keyboard, almost screaming for me to feed them. I put the food in their bowls apologizing for being a negligent parent and also went to fill my own belly. It was late afternoon and I had only had a cup of coffee in the morning when I woke up, but I told my mom that I had eaten at the right times as usual.
That day I didn't go to the balcony, I immersed myself in my book again after preparing a simple instant noodle and grabbing a large bottle of water to accompany me on this journey that, for sure, would enter in the early morning.
When I went to sleep, it was already 6 am and I just texted my editor to let me know that I had finally made progress.
Unfortunately for me, I couldn't sleep all morning because I was woken up with calls that kept coming on my cell phone until I answered.
“How do you drop a bomb like that and ignore my calls?” It was the first thing I heard when I answered.
“Couldn't you imagine that I was busy? Like, sleeping because I spent the whole morning writing?” I said, still dragged with sleep. I heard a sigh on the other end of the line.
“How much did you write?”
“2 and a half chapters”, I stretched, yawning.
“Wow! Is all this one day?”
“I also don't know what happened. It was just a big boom of inspiration”, I laughed weakly. “I think my block is finally gone, Mark”
“I hope so”, I knew he was smiling. “Since you have made progress, we need to have a meeting with the editing team and illustrators”
“Oh, no, I'm not in the mood today”
“And I don’t care. There is no such thing, the meeting has to happen as soon as possible to advance the things in the book. You know we have deadlines”
“Hm, okay…”, I mumbled. “Call me later before the meeting starts to see if I'm awake”
“Don't worry, I always call. In fact, did you do anything different that might, I don't know... get you out of that limbo?”
“I didn't have so many options to do, Mark, and you know I have tried everything”, I stopped to think until I remembered something. “Actually, not to say that nothing happened, I talked to my neighbor”
“Neighbor?”
“Yeah, from the balcony of the apartment. We didn't know each other, even though he lived here for the same time, and he was reading my first book”
“What a coincidence, isn't it?” He laughed. “You have readers everywhere. You may need more social interaction for your creativity to flow.”
“Maybe ... but now I really need to sleep. Till later.”
“See you. Hey, just one more question”, I was quietly waiting for him to speak. “Is he handsome?”
“Bye, Mark”, I hung up while I heard his laugh.
I tossed my cell phone to another corner of the bed and turned around, wrapping my body up again with the warm sheets. Even with my eyes closed, I kept thinking about what my editor said, about me needing to interact more with people to let my creativity flow again. It didn't make sense, because I'm not that sociable in any way and never need it to write.
Nor was it something so incredible, like a super philosophical or crazy conversation. It was just a simple, easy conversation. I mumbled under the duvet when I felt my face heat up thinking about the answer to Mark's last question. I don't have time to think about it, I just got out of a relationship and I need to focus on my book, that's all that matters.
In the end, I couldn't sleep as much as I wanted, but still I could rest. The meeting time came and I barely had time to prepare to deal with it. I have not yet gotten used to online meetings, it seems that everything gets weirder and the anxiety becomes greater, but it is what we have for today and apparently for a long time yet.
The meeting went on for hours as we worked out things that don't even deserve to be put into detail, I just know that I was exhausted at the end of it. Once again I had to hear from some that I have to maintain a writing routine, organize myself more and blah blah blah , as if I didn't know that. But, unfortunately, I don't work that way, no matter how hard I try.
Anyway, I planned a small goal: to write a certain number of words a day. At first it worked, for about five days or so, but what I thought was going to last, ended faster than I expected.
It was a Sunday, nothing came out good enough. I lost count of how many times I wrote and rewrote a paragraph that detailed the dark environment around the main character. I got irritated, frustrated, it wasn't long before I threw everything up, but then I calmed down.
“Okay, today is not a productive day and that's fine!” I said to myself. “It's Sunday, the worst day of the week. The day that you just exist”
That way, I took a break against my will. I tried to relax, get distracted by some things, made notes for what I should write next and kept it in the middle of my messy documents.
However, the other day, I still couldn't do anything, and it was then that I realized: the block came back. I let out a thin, muffled whiny into my own hands and smiled at the wall next. It is a good thing that I live alone, anyone who sees me like this would think that I am some kind of Joker or whatever. I thought to myself that everything was fine. Alright, alright, alright...
The cycle started again and there was nothing I could do to make it go away. I looked at my daughters sleeping curled up on my bed, wishing I were a cat, where my only concerns would be to think if I ever licked between the fingers of my left hind paw today and what kind of sachet my servant will give me at night.
I started a walk around the house, then took out my cell phone to call Mark and to wail more in his ear and left it on speaker while I continued to roll in the middle of the room.
“Give me a virtual punch”, I spoke as soon as he answered.
“If I could, it would have been a long time ago. What happened?”
“Block. Again. My brain doesn't work. I'm a failure as a writer, don't you think? I now have all the time in the world to write, there is nothing else to do, no one to disturb me and I still can't do it. I quit”
“You can't quit. Your fans will kill you if you let this saga end without an ending”
- Let them create fanfics and headcanons!” I threw my hands up and mumbled like a child. “I hate it, Mark. I hate it so much”
“I know, but It's part of the process”, he sighed. “Let's take a look: you spent a long time without being able to produce and suddenly you did last week. Now you can't do it again. Did you do anything other than the usual?”
“I already told you, since the beginning of all this, my routine is practically the same every day, not even exercising my great artistic skills has worked”
“But something made it work, perhaps”, he paused, I could clearly see his strange thoughtful expression, as if he were in front of me. “Ah! You told me you talked to your neighbor, remember? Then you called me saying that you had written like crazy”
“So what?”
“Are you stupid or do you make yourself? You talking to your neighbor, even for a short time, may have woken you up from the block, as I said before”
I stopped to reason and thought, again, that it didn't make sense. I mean, maybe a little. Mark's laugh made me come back.
“Who would have thought that an antisocial writer would need socialization to be able to write again…”
“Shut up. But do you think that may have been it?”
“I don't know, I'm not a psychologist, but try it. Go talk to him again, even if it doesn't work, at least you make a new friend”
I don't know if it was a good idea, but it didn't hurt to try. I told, I could live very well on my own, but I think that was before. It's that saying, you only realize the importance of something or someone when you lose. And during all this confinement, even though I didn't want to admit it, I started to miss interacting with people who were not the deliverer of things on the market and my own reflection in the mirror.
I put my head outside the balcony, slowly, just to see how it was out there and, of course, if my neighbor was there. Noticing his presence, I quickly went back inside, looking at myself in the mirror to fix my hair and see if my face was not very strange and heavy with oil. I don't know why I was nervous and worried about my appearance just for that, but I convinced myself that it was because I wanted to make a second good impression.
The late afternoon wind was cool and a little cold, which made me cringe with my arms crossed as I walked over to my usual chair, trying to hide it, as if I hadn't seen Gemini at my side. However, he soon noticed me.
“Good afternoon, Fourth”. When I looked at him, he smiled in a way that made his cheeks look super cute.
Focus.
“Good afternoon, Gemini. How are you doing?”
“Good, and you?”
“Same”
Silence. That typical conversation between acquaintances who are in the elevator and do not know what to say while going down 20 floors as if it would take forever.
I was trying to come up with some incredible conversation that would make us stay there and have a great chat until it got completely dark, but my slow reasoning was interrupted seconds later by him.
“I haven't seen you these days. I even thought that I ruined your moment with the outside wanting to stay here too”, he laughed embarrassed.
“No! Of course not, I was just busy with the book”
“Book? So you are already doing the fourth act of the saga?!” He spoke excitedly, almost getting up from his chair, but stepped back, with an embarrassed smile. “Sorry, I don't want to look like a fantasy crazy nerd, but ... Well, I'm a fantasy crazy nerd.”
“Good to know, because I am too. If not, you would not be the author of the books you like”, I joked.
“Can you talk about the process of creating another masterpiece, or is it a confidential matter?”
Upon hearing “ masterpiece”, my interior produced sounds that would be inaudible if I externalized them, but on the outside I was as calm as a summer rain. I could see the anticipation in Gemini's eyes with his question and I hated it in advance to have to break it.
“So... I was doing well, too well, but a fucked-up creative block caught me again”. I realized that I ended up cursing accidentally and gulped. “Sorry, I don't usually curse in front of strangers, but I'm so frustrated with that, you have no idea”
Luckily for me, Gemini laughed, leaving me relieved that he didn't think of me as a rude person.
“I imagine it must really be fucked up. What do you do to get it through?”
“Usually it goes by itself and doesn't last long, especially if I try to be productive in other things, because sometimes I'm just tired of looking at the same document, with the same story... This time, I was from the beginning of quarantine without being able to do anything and this week I thought the block had left me, but he came back.”
“Damn, man…”, I liked the empathy, he looked really sad with me. “I don't know what to say that could help, but... at least an hour passes, doesn't it?”
“Yeah…”, Go, Fourth, make your move. “I mean, I think you can help me”, he looked at me confused, with a small smile, and I laughed. “A friend told me that maybe my problem was not having social interactions in person and that I should try to talk to someone more and, well, I don't have many options at the moment.”
“It makes a little sense, I'm not going to lie. Even chatting with friends online, I feel like I'm going to go crazy anytime.”
“You seem to be more sociable than me, so I'm not surprised”
“Have you guessed that with just one conversation?” He raised an eyebrow and a corner smile broke out on his face.
“You started talking to an antisocial author and got him out of the creative block briefly, so I guess so”
His ears went red between the messy brown strands as he let out a breathy laugh covered by the back of his hand. I made a mental note that, in fact, Gemini is somewhat shy.
“Ok, I don't know you, but I think it would be nice to have a company to chat from time to time on the balcony”, I spoke at once, hoping that he would not find me too invasive.
“I think it's a good idea, too”, he closed his book, which this time was not one of mine, and placed it on a low table beside him. “I will pretend that you are not a famous writer but someone I just met in a cafe in Italy. Buongiorno, signore ”
I ended up letting out an unexpected laugh. Gemini held the laughing and tried to stay serious, staying on the character.
“Why Italy?”
“You know, before this whole pandemic story started, I was planning to travel there”
“Ah ... What a pity”
“It is not as if I was about to catch the plane, it was just a long-standing plan that I had started to plan between work breaks”
His smile was serene, but the way he looked at his fingers moving a red ribbon tied around his wrist showed a certain melancholy. It seemed, then, that the matter had died because of a taciturn climate that quickly built up to the middle of about a meter and a half between our balconies, but Gemini raised his smile to me again.
“So, Signore Gemini, what did you do before you were stuck at home?”
“I taught classes for a bunch of little brats in elementary school. I'm a math teacher”
“Hey, that's cool. I hate math”
“Understandable. My whole life I've heard it from people, but I don't care”
Just because he knows and likes math, Gemini should be a genius compared to me, because the only bills I make nowadays are just to pay slips and I still need a calculator to do it. But Gemini doesn't look like a math teacher.
In the beginning, it was a difficult conversation. My head worked and assembled a thousand and one options of what I could talk about before uttering anything that wouldn't make me look like a clown, my restless hands were sweating a little and I couldn't stop poking the cuticle of my thumb, doing a little check mental that I was getting worse and worse when it comes to interpersonal interactions.
However, Gemini is funny, makes fun of everything, which makes him comfortable to talk, despite the clear shyness that makes him somewhat clumsy and with red ears that I noticed since our first and brief conversation. I just knew that time passed because the sky was totally dark and the square in front of our building was all lit up, with little lights camouflaged among the big trees. I liked to imagine that there were several fireflies.
By the end of the night, my chair was already on the edge of the balcony security bar, just to better hear my neighbor. And Gemini did the same.