Come September - short story

Come September

Since moving to the country, everyone around me seems so much more happy and outgoing. They are excited about going grocery shopping or the chance to drive to a friend's place to visit them. Most of the time, they sit outside. Hidden away under a tree, away from the direct sun. Sometimes they would sit under the canopy to enjoy the pitter patter of the rain or huddled up in blankets to savour the first snow of the season. As if that wasn't enough, they just wouldn't give up on asking me to join them. "Hello, dear! Do you want to enjoy the sun with us?" There is so much writing to be done. Still, whenever I stare at the screen I feel my mind going blank. I pace, pulling out books that should inspire me. Their pages just blur together into this jumble of ink. It became a habit that I would nervously comb my hands through my hair. After all this time, It grew quite a lot and now hangs off the sides in greasy streaks.

Sometimes I would feel a gentle hand on my shoulder or my cheek, trying to coax me outside. It got less and less over time. "Finally." I thought for a triumphant moment, but heard the door handle being pressed down in that same moment. "Sir, afternoon tea. We are waiting for you in the lounge." - "I am busy as you might see." I said absentmindedly, not looking up from my desk. The housekeeper let out a scoff, at which I finally raised my head to look at him. "Sir, I don't mean to be disrespectful but ever since we moved to the country, you have been holed up in your study. The weather is splendid! You have an amazing garden that is just sprouting with flowers and a perfect little place of shade to still do your work." his voice trembled a little. The fear of getting fired was still apparent, even after almost a decade of working for me. "Well, you might remember that it was not my idea to move to the country! I would have been perfectly fine with that cramped apartment in the middle of the city! Now, if you might excuse me... I need to work!" My voice boomed through the room. It was not my intention to distress the poor boy so much. With wide eyes and a small bow, he turned to close the door again. Just at the door, he let out a shaky sigh that I was sure he didn't want me to hear.

The room was finally quiet. Not even the mechanical nightingale in the cage sang. It was a present from a friend I have known forever. She wanted me to have some company. To this point I am not sure if I should be thankful or not. The bird only sang a few times so far. There was no way to turn it off or make it sing on purpose. Its song was the perfect embodiment of a warm spring day but unfortunately I tried to concentrate and grew furious at the little thing. My angry grumbling got louder than usual under the stress and turned into a frustrated scream. Like everybody else, it didn't dare to voice its opinions after. Even just as a piece of metal and plastic, I was sure it heard me stomping across the room, raising my hand as I was about to throw it through the room.

The windows were closed, the curtain drawn and I was glad to finally have the chance to keep working on the story that I have been struggling with since the move. Whenever I looked at the blank screen of a new page, every idea I ever had would go hazy as if it was unreachable but always in sight. Even with the perfect study, it was hard to concentrate. All my favourite books were lining the wall. Dark coloured wallpaper was complimenting the furniture that I gathered years ago from flea markets. The room even had a reading nook, with a beautiful vintage lamp that gave the perfect warm light to cosy up with a cup of tea and a well worn novel. I used the chair to read maybe once or twice now. My vigilance was never enough to keep me there longer than an hour.

Every little step in this house was as if someone would trample on my head. I could hear every person, by now I could even recognise who they were and what their daily routine was. At seven in the morning, the housekeeper would wake up and run up and down every stair to wake the others. The maids would hustle and bustle around about half an hour later. By that time, even before the housekeeper would look for me, I was already awake with a pillow over my head. It became a habit that I would fall asleep in the study as well. It had a comfortable couch with a thin blanket draped over and decorative pillows lining the sides. The pillows were actually quite enjoyable to lie your head on. Shortly after we first moved, I could hear the maids shout for me since they couldn't find me in my bedroom. By now, they would look for me in the study even before making their way to my room.