By Sarah Lei Spagnolo
One of the things I loved most about having a room of my own as a teenager was the privacy it gave me. I considered it a luxury in our little two-story house in a crummy part of the the city. It’s where I would write. It’s where I would think. It’s where I would dream. Tonight I was doing neither of the three. I was simply starring off into space.It was getting late but I didn’t feel the least bit sleepy. The silence of the night engulfed me, drenching my spirit with a bucket of inner peace and causing goose bumps to travel up my arm towards the base of my neck. It was so quiet I began to hear the silence – a high, but not high-pitched frequency in my ears ringing louder and louder until it became almost deafening. In that moment I was reminded that absolute silence didn’t exist, particularly not where I lived. In my neighborhood, silence was but a momentary pause between random jumbled noises constantly traveling through the paper-thin walls of houses. I could hear when a neighbor was washing dishes, arguing with a family member or flushing the toilet.
Somewhere in the distance a woman was coughing uncontrollably. A raw, searing cough ricocheted through her chest in between gasps for air. Cooooooooooouuuugh, coooooooooouggggh. I grimaced when she repeatedly attempted to expel phlegm from her throat. This went on for almost a minute until a window slid open and she let out a loud spit. I heard it land solidly on the pavement. Splat! Hopefully, it will all be dried up tomorrow before someone steps on it while walking down the street. She cleared her throat a few more times, slammed the window shut, and then it was quiet again. Although I was grossed out by it, in my mind I couldn’t help but visualize what the woman’s phlegm might have looked like. Was it green? White? Yellow? Runny? Sticky? The size of a peso coin? Eeeeeyyyuucck! I wiggled my entire body in disgust. Why do I even want to know?
The steady humming of a flickering lamp across the street took over the woman’s vociferous coughing and hawking, but not for long; it was interrupted by the myriad clicks and pops of a man snoring in his sleep. I tried to guess which neighbor it was, but I was uncertain. I sat up straight with my legs tucked under my tailbone, leaned my head against the wall and stared out into the darkness. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the guava tree in our neighbor’s front yard, its branches stretching out over the wall of cement separating our houses. A light suddenly came on in one of the rooms next door and interrupted my reverie. I leaned forward, curious. Because the window was slightly open, I could make out the silhouette of a man and a woman draped in the yellow glow of a floor lamp. The woman whispered something in the man’s ear, planted a kiss on his lips and disappeared. Hmmm…I couldn’t recall ever seeing a couple living next door. They must be new tenants.
The man moved towards the window and stood right by the crack. He then pulled out a long black object from down below and appeared to be massaging it with his hands. Up and down. Up and down. I counted ten times. Then pressing it between his palms he rolled it sideways. The repetitive motion reminded me of a baker kneading bread dough on one of those cooking shows on television. My curiosity piqued. I stared and stared. What was he doing? Why did the woman leave the room? Why was he doing whatever he was doing at this time of the night? Then it dawned on me. Gasp! He must be caressing his pet snake! What else could it be? I felt tiny vellus hair rise from the bottom of my spine all the way up to my neck. What if the snake escapes and somehow made its way into our property? I would hate to find a slithering cold-blooded reptile in my room.
His hand movements went faster and faster until he found a rhythm steady enough to compete with the African tribal drums. There was an abrupt pause then I saw him drop the snake on the floor. He peered outside the window as if he sensed my presence making me fall backwards into my bed in panic. Oh no. Did he see me? I placed my hand on my chest trying to calm my heart, which was already beating out of control. Raising my head slightly, I looked out to see if he was still there but the light was already off and it was pitch black again.
I woke up the next morning with only one mission in mind: report to my mom what I’d seen from my bedroom window. Over sausage and eggs, I described to her every detail I’d observed. She laughed it off like I wasn’t making any sense. “Honey that’s ridiculous,” she said, scooping another spoonful of rice to her mouth with her right hand. “What for? Besides,” she said, “exotic pets are expensive. I doubt they’re able to afford it.”
To prove it to her, I called her into my room at about 9 o’clock. We didn’t have to wait long before everything unfolded in front of us as if I’d pressed ‘replay.’ Seeing what I’d described to her early this morning in great detail, my mom’s eyes grew wide in disbelief and a curtain of disgust fell over her entire face. “Dear Lord! That’s repulsive. Close the window and go to bed!” she whispered angrily, leaving the room with such haste that the door banged shut behind her and shook every corner and space. That night, I didn’t look out the window again.
The weekend arrived and I wanted to desperately forget what had happened but inside there was something about my mom’s words from last night that troubled me. As I sleepily made my way down the stairs, I overhear my mom talking to someone on the phone. I stopped midway just in time to catch the end of the conversation. “Bastos! If he wants to do that have him close the windows and turn off all the lights,” my mom pleaded. “Please Mrs. Gonzales, talk to him. You must understand. I have teenage daughters in the house and they can’t be seeing nasty things.” Whatever it was she was referring to, I had a funny feeling it wasn’t about a snake at all.www.sarahleispagnolo.com
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