The following piece of creative nonfiction is part of a series I started on my personal blog a few years ago called “Alphabet: A History,” which is a collection of short, autobiographical vignettes, focusing mainly on relationships (familial, romantic, platonic, and self).
Alphabet: A History (M) Mattress
It’s June, 2004 and I’m moving into a 1-bedroom apartment on Winnemac Street. I’m a ten-minute walk from the park in one direction, a ten-minute walk from the lake in the other, and I’m right around the corner from the Hopleaf. It’s the first time I’ve lived alone in almost four years, so I’ve bought a new mattress to honor the occasion. It’s a Sterns and Foster, which is the only kind my mom said is worth getting.
It’s hot and I’m wearing a t-shirt and underwear while I paint the place and wait for my mattress to be delivered (none of my other furniture is here yet). I’m painting the kitchen the color of a watermelon because the black and white splash board reminds me of seeds. I paint my living room mocha, my bathroom light purple, my dining room apple green, and my bedroom a golden yellow. I don’t have AC, but I’ve got the ceiling fans on high and all the windows open. I’m playing a song by Wheat called “I Met a Girl” over and over on my little CD player and I dance around my empty apartment, barefoot over the newly-varnished hardwood floors.
A year and a few months later, after another date that leads to nowhere, I spend an evening lying on the same floor, staring at the ceiling, listening to Mazzy Star’s “Halah” on repeat. It’s getting cooler now, the bars and cafes have moved their outdoor tables and chairs to wherever it is they keep these things in the winter. I ride my bike around aimlessly, with the left leg of my jeans rolled up, my blue jacket zipped to my neck. I eat mussels for two at the bar at the Hopleaf, sharing my meal with a rotating cast of friends and forgettable dates, most of whom I meet online these days. Saturday mornings I spend at the bookstore, a stack of magazines and a small skim latte by my side.
{ 42 comments }
