The Event of Last Night; or The Cabinets are Always Open

I was swallowed in comfort, first feeling that particular twang in my stomach. I rarely experienced genuine hunger but the effects always hit hard. Immediate need for sustenance. An occasional reminder this vessel I inhabit is organic.

Hunger affects me entirely. My joints weaken & haze quickly consumes my perception. Another rarity, I actually got out of bed to go downstairs & investigate snacks possibly forgotten. Anything in the fridge would probably be inedible but maybe I would find something stashed behind the industrial sized Folger’s bucket on my designated pantry shelf.

My refrigerated food theory was correct. Again I surprised myself that night, responsibly taking the time to clear out the mold-ridden containers & bag of veggies mysteriously now goo. In the pantry - not behind the coffee but between cans of beans I would never eat - I made a discovery. That Dollar Store package of chipotle flavored instant mashed potatoes was my holy grail, in that moment.

Already making a much better effort to take care of myself than usual, I decided the microwave was an acceptable way to cook the powdered potatoes. INSTRUCTIONS: 2 cups of water in a microwave safe bowl.

After a short search, I found my favorite bowl in the already open upper cabinet. The perfect bowl. The only choice when eating anything sloshy. Certainly big enough to fit the soon-to-be rehydrated potatoes. Rebelling, I poured in 1 cup of water & 1 cup of milk, stolen from an unknown housemate. In hopes of enhancing the creaminess beyond the manufactured standard, I also planned to add a couple tablespoons of butter the last dozen or so seconds of the microwave cycle.

After placing the mixture in the microwave, I pressed the 3, then the 1, then the 2 - less time than instructed, but surely enough time for the liquid to get hot enough - not too hot - to eat immediately.

The sound of the microwave door closing was loud enough I hoped none of my housemates were disturbed at the current unreasonable hour. I pressed COOK with my knuckle. 3 seconds disappeared from the display before it went blank. Simultaneously, there was a loud click that echoed in the walls. The microwave tripped one of the kitchen fuses.

I was accustomed to fixing tripped fuses. It didn’t happen often, but enough to be considered ordinary. The fuse box was right outside the living room door & tripped fuses turned orange so the fix was always quick & easy.

Walking to the back door, I intended to use my phone as a flashlight before realizing I hadn’t brought it downstairs. As I unlocked the door, I flipped a light switch to my left, hoping the porch light would illuminate the box enough to identify the correct fuse.

It could have been my familiarity with horror movies or how naturally paranoid my brain tended to be, but when the switch didn’t turn on the light, I was immediately filled with a dark dread. The sort of fear you feel physically preparing you for the coming horror.

Unable to see through the decorative grating of the security door, I was overwhelmed with the sense something was on the other side & it was not friendly. Even aware my thoughts tend to lean toward delusion, this was distinctly different - I could feel a presence. Delusions never had feelings. I could feel this one.

I quickly locked the barrier between me & whatever was beyond it. I closed the inner paned door, only one of the two locks engaged - better than nothing but no real comfort was provided.

I backed away from the door & rounded the corner, hoping for safety in the kitchen. Even rationalizing the situation as existing only in my mind, I still checked the laundry room door was locked.

I took a breath. This was all simply an inconvenience.

Though the presence persisted in the backyard, I continued my mission to feed myself. I avoided looking out either kitchen window as I searched for a sauce pan in another already open cabinet. Maybe this was all just a lesson I should do things the right way the first time. Taking the easy way has consequences.

I returned to the dark microwave & transferred the milk & water into the pot as I walked to the stove. I twisted the nob for the only burner I ever used & a hiss of gas escaped. The stove was yet another thing in this house that had to be used just right in order to work. I tried the nob a second time & still no ignition.

Never realizing, even a gas stove needs an electric spark to light the flame. Making these potatoes was not going to happen. I turned to dump the liquid down the sink & accidentally caught a glimpse out the window. I froze - that recent horror flooded me deeper. Any rationalization I managed to gather was immediately extinguished.

No amount of logic would keep me in the kitchen. I gave up on food completely & returned upstairs where Denise was waiting in my room, still watching The Office, unaware of the terror i discovered.

She was my best friend & always adept at taking care of me. When I came back without food she insisted on giving me her leftovers. Climbing back into bed, I casually attempted to dissuade her going downstairs, telling her the fuse tripped & there’s no way to heat anything up. She knew the things my brain would sometimes do but until she stood up I kept the experience to myself.

I anxiously detailed what happened & how it felt, stopping her for only a moment before she mindlessly dismissed it as another of my episodes & disappeared down the stairs.

Fear gripped me to my bed. I focused on the door. Paranoia was overwhelming. I waited too long for my dearest friend. I knew she would never return.