Night and Day

She woke up and lay there in the dark for a moment, listening. Then she opened her eyes. Without moving, she peered out into the darkness. There was someone in the room. She thought she had heard something, and she could hear pretty well, especially at night.

In every house she had ever lived in she remembered not so much how it looked but how it sounded. Even the smallest creaking of wood in another part of the house or the brushing of a tree branch in the wind against the kitchen window she could hear. It was like every place had a kind of sonic fingerprint that made it uniquely its own, different from any other place — but she was not in her own home now. She did not know where she was or who had brought her here, but whoever it was, he was in the room.

Sylvia tried to remember, forcing her mind to clear from sleep while she scanned the silence and the darkness. She had gotten off the plane and climbed into a taxi. The driver had turned to her and she had asked him where she was.

“Where do you want to go?” the driver had asked her.

“No”, she said. “I mean what city am I in?”

The driver had shrugged. “What city do you want to be in?”

She had become angry. “Just take me to a hotel”, she told him.

She tried to remember how she had gotten so confused that she slept through the flight and didn’t get off the plane when she was supposed to. She remembered the wine, how strong it was, like somebody had put something in it. She had told the stewardess to take it away and then she must have fallen asleep after that. When she woke up there was nobody else on the plane and she just walked out into the airport and onto the street. She hailed a cab.

As the taxi drove through the city she dug into her purse looking for her cell phone. It wasn’t there. Shit.

The driver stopped and spoke to her, telling her she had to get out here.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I cannot go further,” he said.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because this is the end”, he said.

He drove off and left her standing on the street. It started to rain even though the sky was deep blue and the sun shone brightly.

Sylvia remembered running into a small café across the street where people were smoking and talking. She was soaking wet and a man gave her a towel. He asked her if she wanted anything to drink and she remembered she had left her purse in the taxi.

The man gave her a long look. “You must be in trouble”, he said. “Where are you going?”

She wanted to tell him where she was going but she didn’t remember anymore.

“I don’t know where I’m going”, she said. “Can you help me? I don’t have any money.”

The man had taken her to a table and ordered food. “First you must eat”, he said. “The food is good here.” He ordered a bottle of red wine and gave her a cigarette.

“Can you tell me where I am?” she asked him.

He held a lit match while she pulled on the cigarette. “Where do you want to be?” he asked.

“That again?” she said. “Does everybody here have the same answer to that question?”

She wanted to leave but didn’t know where to go. She didn’t even know where she was. Food came. Some kind of meat in some kind of sauce. She ate two helpings and drank two glasses of the wine. Then she remembered the wine on the plane. She looked at the man sitting across from her.

“You were very hungry,” he said. “And now you are sleepy. Do you want to sleep?”

When she woke up again she was in the room alone and it was locked. She could see out the window but it wouldn’t open. Somebody slid some food under the door that evening, and the next morning, and for days after that but nobody spoke to her. She started banging on the door but nobody answered.

After a while she forgot how long she had been in the room or who had brought her there but she remembered the man from the restaurant who gave her the wine, and now he had come into the room and was pulling back the blanket. She started screaming. That brought her out of it. She opened her eyes and lay there in the dark for a moment, listening.