Where is the Sun?

Rudine Manning

Sep 30, 2018

Naomi woke up at dusk. The sky was on fire—all shades of orange and pink with thin strips of blue throughout. A sunset like this used to be few and far between, but recently every single one looked this way—like the last sunset ever. She opened her bedroom window. Having spent the day pent up inside, Naomi welcomed the breeze. She walked to the other end of the hall and opened the kitchen window as well. It was newly fall and her tiny Brooklyn apartment filled quickly with the sound of leaves rustling in the wind and boot heels echoing off the sidewalk. The long branches on the tree out front swayed back and forth. Naomi spent all day waiting for things to calm down outside—she relished stillness.

Naomi ran a bath and while it filled up she poured herself a glass of red wine and a shot of whiskey. The shot in hand, she sauntered over to her record player—her father’s record player. The one she’d kept all these years. She pulled a Billie Holiday record—her favorite record—off the shelf. Not caring which song played, she dropped the needle carelessly somewhere in the middle and hoped it didn’t scratch. Ms. Billie started to croon and Naomi recognized that she was almost through “Where is the Sun?”

Listen my heart. Don’t feel so bad. Think of the kisses we knew…

She downed the shot, grabbed the wine and headed to the bathroom. Setting the glass on the edge of the tub, she dropped her robe and dipped one leg into the steaming hot bath and then the other. As she lowered herself in, the water rose and sloshed a little over the edge. Her knees jutted up and out of the water until she extended her legs out and up, resting her feet against the cool tile. It was much more comfortable than it looked.

For a week now, this had been her routine. Naomi kept to herself all day. She slept, she read…and she drank but not until after five o’clock. Naomi was, as they say, going through it—going through the motions. She knew she’d be fine, she just needed this time to herself. Her cell phone had been off for almost two days, but no one had come calling. Anyone who really cared had the number to her landline and even that had remained quiet. She spent a lot of her day contemplating whether or not this was a good thing. Naomi wanted to be alone, but she didn’t want to be alone. Is that a catch 22?

The end of summer was like a death and Naomi mourned. Oh, how she mourned. It was like sitting shiva, this period of isolation, except there was no one there to comfort her. In this time, Naomi ignored the actual death, the one that sent her to this place this time of year. Choosing instead to obsess about her own life, about how motionless it seemed to be. Others walked in and out of Naomi’s life but she remained in one place. And actually the only time Naomi did allow herself to think about that death, her mother’s, it was to marvel at how much closer in age they had become. Naomi wondered where the time went…

***

Lately, Naomi’s head was clearest after her evening drink. It gave her the ability to hyperfocus on just one thing. This evening, in the tub, that thing—that person—was the latest one to walk out of her life. The timing was unfortunate. It wasn’t his fault—he didn’t know. And that was indicative of the problem really. Naomi sank a little deeper into the water and thought about when they met. They’d locked eyes crossing the street—Naomi on her way home and William heading in the opposite direction to wherever. Overwhelmed by a sudden need to know this man, Naomi turned and yelled from across the street.

“Hey!”

William looked back and smiled.

She remembered the feeling that flowed through her.

It was comparable only to the feeling when he left.

Naomi and William had six dreamy months together. Both had been longing for an “other”, so they did the things they’d been wanting to do with someone else—farmer’s markets, art shows and open mics, lazy days on William’s couch. For the first time in a long time Naomi was able to think about the future and feel something other than dread. But spending all her time in her head—consumed as she was with the possibilities of this future with William—Naomi didn’t notice him leaving. Even now, she couldn’t tell you when she started to lose him. Their relationship came to an end quietly. Naomi didn’t have it in her to put up a fight and if you asked William, he’d tell you this is what hurt him the most. She’d always struggled with relationships—joked with her friends about the gaping hole where her heart should have been—but she really did try with William.

And so, Naomi was alone again. It was a pretty familiar place for her to be.

Faced now with two losses to deal with, Naomi chose to do absolutely nothing—one of the better decisions she’d made in a while.

* * *

Not until the tips of her fingers wrinkled and the water grew cold did Naomi even think about leaving the tub. She could have stayed there all night. Begrudgingly she stepped out, opened the drain and not even bothering to dry off, headed to her bedroom. She didn’t hear when the record stopped—Naomi heard only street noise and her own voice in her head. She grabbed her lighter and one of the joints she kept in a decorative box on her dresser and plopped down on her bed. She lay back against her pillow and then all Naomi could hear was the snap, crackle, pop of the lighter meeting the joint…and her own voice in her head. She inhaled deeply and held it for a very long time.

To quiet her inner voice, the nagging, Naomi sang to herself. She sang herself to sleep most nights, thanking the lord or whatever it was making the decisions out there that she’d found Billie Holiday when she did. The striking resemblance to her mother was just a coincidence she thought—although, deep down inside, Naomi wasn’t convinced.