Fill the Space With Sound

Anne slammed the old car door, the last of the crumpled and worn moving boxes shuffling within her uneven grasp.
“So this is it, huh?”
She looked over at her father and gave a smile that barely reached her eyes. “This is it.”
“You know- I never thought that you’d go for it.” He laughed, scratching the back of his head, “Leaving that is.”
She shifted her weight and hands around the boxes, straining to keep up her very delicate facade of eagerness, “Can’t stay with you guys forever.”
They both knew that.
“Do you need me to-”
“No- No it’s fine.” She placed the boxes down. “I’m fine.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
A part of her knew he didn’t believe her, she didn’t even believe it herself. It’s not like they could have said that though.
They stood there for a while, waiting for what they both knew was coming next.
Her smile wavered. She was okay.
“Well,” He exhaled as he got back into the car, “I should probably leave you to it then.”
She couldn’t open her mouth in fear of what would come out, so she simply nodded instead. Anne gave a small and unsure wave as he backed the car out and sped away, leaving her alone in the stifling heat of the pavement.
She only heard how quiet it was.
Grappling with the boxes yet again, she headed up into her apartment.
Somehow it was even more quiet.
She was drowning in silence.
Her own heartbeat- that was the only sound. It pounded like a drum against the hush of the apartment. She silently wished for thinner walls as she stared down the three boxes in front of her. If she was with somebody- anybody- she could laugh about how funny it was that it only took three boxes to condense her entire life. Everything she is and was, was inside those three boxes. She felt herself crumbling, the large space becoming uneven beneath her feet.
Such a large space to fill with so little.
Anne felt her fingers twitch against her worn jeans, flitting to make some noise and escape herself. Those three boxes. Should she have more? Were three boxes all she was worth? Surely she had done something wrong. All of her friends were so far ahead of her already: jobs, education, families. Where did they find out what they were supposed to do? She felt like she was missing instructions, the assembly guide for the rest of her life.
At the taste of blood she noticed she was biting her lip. She quickly stopped, refusing to make this yet another anxious scar, her lips already marred from years of this bad habit.
Her heartbeat was deafening.
She quickly turned out the door, finding any reason in her mind to not stay.
Racing down the stairs to the street, she settled on checking out the town, her new home for as long as she could make it.
Anne turned the key to her car and pushed in a cassette tape given as a gift from an old friend. The engine rumbled and stereos crackled into song; the melodies chosen were a nice substitute for her own thoughts. She hummed along to occupy more space, the sound of the air from the fans filling up the rest of it. She was okay.
The streets were eerily still, barely a person walking around. Storefronts too, were as desolate as the streets, the windows black pools of inactivity reflecting the street back at them.
It wasn’t long until her car reached the coastline, forcing her to stop. She idled in her sand swept parking spot, faced with the choice of turning around or staying where she was. Anne couldn’t stand the sight of the ghostly streets. Music slowly quieted around her.
She bit her lip and got out of the car.
The sky was clear and beach waves crashed violently along the shore. The white foam clung to the dull brown sand like fingers, pulled back by the endless blue.
In between, she felt her heartbeat pound, the sound yet again fierce amidst the silence.
There was nobody here.
Anne toed the line between the sand and dirt, hesitating to go any further. The beach was completely empty- not a single soul in sight. Ghost tracks of pipers littered the fresh sand, yet there wasn't a bird to be seen. The sky was clear and blue, yet not a single person could be found. She felt the hair on her neck stand on end- goosebumps raising her skin as another wave crashed.
Heartbeat. Crash. Heartbeat. Crash. The rhythm continued without a soul to interrupt it.
Did she miss a memo? The day was perfect: the sky was blue, the sand was hot, the water was clear. But the parking lot was empty, the animals were scarce, and she was alone.
What did others know that she didn’t? The salt in the air burned her eyes. Her toes dug into the dirt, inches away from the barrier of sand.
Why did she need other people to enjoy this? She felt broken. A perfect day on the beach- every opportunity to enjoy herself. And she couldn’t.
… Was she broken?
Anne tasted blood.
She couldn’t do it without somebody else.
Nothing was wrong.
So why did it feel wrong?
Anne backed silently away from the edge, away from the shore, and back to her car. She slammed the door, and the waves crashing screamed back in response.
She took a deep breath in and out, the stale scent of her worn down car lingering unpleasantly in her nose.
She had to calm down.
The thin sound of the cassette player sat in the background, distant music of piano and guitar barely reaching her. Every noise felt like it was coming through a thick wall, muffled and faraway. No matter what she did, nothing could occupy the space as it did before.
She was the only one occupying the space now. Alone.
She wanted to be okay.
She was okay.
As long as she could repeat that she could be alone. As long as she could repeat that she could be fine. As long as she could repeat that, she wouldn’t be broken.
Because she was okay.
Everything tasted like salt and blood.