I left the apartment hurriedly, pounding the stairs downwards. I heard the children from the first floor jumping inside, repeatedly asking may we go, mommy? May we go, mommy? May we go, mommy? I crossed the building's entrance in a huff, annoyed, but I was out in the street in no time. I took the tube downtown amid every other wage earner. I looked around and I realized for the umpteenth time I was part of them, the wage earners. Still I declared my intention to leave upon my arrival at the office. I said I'd waive any rights in exchange of being released from any duties – provided the releasing part of the deal occurred right away. I noticed Carl didn't look surprised, nor especially bothered, when he said something like OK, I don't see why we can't agree on that. I rejoiced in Carl's practicality, in his quick decision-making. I went to my desk, turned the computer on and set different rules on my Outlook account, enough to redirect all my mail to the right places during the next days; then I canceled every meeting I had scheduled for the following two weeks, with a note claiming the meeting would be rescheduled meanwhile; finally I grabbed every personal belonging I'd accumulated there for the last six years, paperweights and stuff, and as I walked across my colleagues on my way out I said Goodbye, Best of luck, I enjoyed working with you – each time I met a familiar face, of course. Thus I found myself outside in no time, ready to continue. And I was on the sidewalk, already under the cold winter sun, when I said to myself: real estate agency. So I got myself on the tube again and I resurfaced on St. Louis Square, just outside the agency; but I didn't enter immediately 'cause my phone rang when I was about to: it was you. I think you know by now I didn't answer your call because I was in the middle of something, and you know I couldn't be doing something and not be doing it at the same time, since that's against all logic. So I waited till you quit calling and I called Anna after that. Yes, I called Anna. I called Anna instead since that was part of what I was doing. I said: Have lunch with me, will you? And she said: Of course, sis. The usual place at noon, OK? I replied Yes and I hung up and then I switched off my phone. I went inside the agency and I asked to speak to someone in charge, which was evidently an unreasonable request, I suppose, judging by the if nothing else equally ill-timed I beg your pardon? the receptionist threw my way as an adequate response. I reformulated on the spot stating I needed to know how to cancel a lease agreement, asap. She said I had to write a letter, a lease termination letter to be precise, and she conducted me to an office cubicle. I felt escorted; no, I felt guided there. I filled the termination letter she promptly produced and I remembered old Shakespearean wisdom: no fine chisel could ever cut breath, or: of course you wouldn't brake your lease agreement with a personal appearance at the real estate agency only, you know you should know that. I set this minor disappointment aside, and there I was again, back on the tube.
sun energy conservative
And I was thinking what else? when I spotted an environmental emergency awareness tag that answered me, though obliquely: electricity, gas... a bunch of other things I had to undo. I realized time was needed. I moved from the idea of face-to-face contract annulments to the decision that I’ll do it by email as soon as I got back to the apartment. I could fathom no obstacles there. Thus I settled the matter for the time being and I looked at my watch. I knew that the usual place where Anna and I had lunch was still a couple of stations away, but I had time, so I decided to jump out of the tube earlier and walk the rest of the way. I walked. I thought of you. I thought of you leaving the apartment and hastily making all preparations for a retreat that was to occur late June. I asked myself if you’d understand and I told myself you wouldn’t. Meantime I got to the usual place earlier than expected, but so did Anna. In fact when I arrived I saw her already seating by the window, at the table she always picked if it was free. I’m sure you’ve eaten at that table with us on countless occasions, but that’s beside the point. I found Anna gay and light. I told her so. She said: You must’ve slept what, two hours? And I said: That bad, hein? And I said Yes. Then I told her all about our night and I told her all about your plan. Afterwards, once she had said some ten times how sweet you were, I told her about my morning and about my plan, and she said that I was completely nuts and that I should be seeing a doctor instead of being there with her, having lunch. But I effectively lectured her on the amount of energy that conservative proclivities in potentially hardened individuals drain from opposing individuals that aim to change or to achieve something, be it in the realm of their single lives or in nationwide matters of fact, and she agreed with me on that point and she accepted to accommodate my vanishing self at her house for the next few days if I’d only please just do shut up – which I did. I heard her say that in any case she wouldn’t be lying to you if you’d call her and asked about me. I think she threw in the conversation the fucking word a couple of times, but I’ve got some difficulty as to know where or how many times exactly. Anyway I didn’t get any news on the subject of you calling during the following months, so I suppose you haven’t called her. Even if you did, I think that is again beside the point. I heard her asking What about money? and I told her that that wouldn’t be a problem. I started to feel jumpy and I asked her: May we go... now?It is true I almost said mommy, may we go mommy?, but actually I didn’t. And she said Yes. I recall her saying yes. And I told her I’d meet her later.
And I got back on the tube, yet again. And I was back at the apartment in no time, yet again. And I knew then that they surely knew, Agnès and Chris. I knew that they knew, because I knew that they had felt something. Because when I entered the apartment they didn’t come running to me as they hadn’t moved early in the morning from wherever they were hiding when I got up to prepare breakfast. Despite that, of course I had searched for them earlier in the morning and of course I went searching for them now, and of course I found them: there they were now, Agnès and Chris, there they were laying together, nested on my side of the bed as usual. I cried, yes. I cried a lot, yes. And I confessed, yes – though I did it unconvincingly: You know Anna, don’t you? Well, she has got the worst cat’s allergies ever... And, meanwhile, I reached for them and I tried to hug them, but they hissed my way in unison, first violently, almost furiously, than with the utmost contempt for my lying. I covered my face with both hands and when I uncovered it and was about to speak truthfully; when I was about to tell them that I loved them but that it was impossible to go through with the plan if they were present; when I was about to explain that they too were part of what had to go to nothingness so that something could in fact reappear – all I saw was their beautiful furry tales leaving elegantly, caressing our late bedroom’s door. I remember now I never did find their saddle brown transport cages, but that’s also beside the point. Later, before I left the apartment, I carried Agnès under my right arm, and Chris under the other, both up to the top floor, where they’ve been staying ever since.