fucking job interviews
the lights in this house hum. i swear they do. not in the poetic way, either: it’s that sick fluorescent sound, the kind you can feel in your jaw. i think it’s because the wiring’s old. everything in this house is old. my dad’s old, the wallpaper’s old, i’m probably getting old too. the mirrors buzz. the outlets sigh. sometimes i think the whole place is trying to remember what silence used to sound like.
today was supposed to be normal. job interview. decent shirt. fake smile. i got all the way there, did my little routine, thought i nailed it. the woman even said i seemed “grounded.” i wanted to tell her that’s because i’ve been pacing in circles for three years straight. i wanted to say i’m a pro at looking stable. but i didn’t.
i didn’t get the job. i never do. and it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s all fine. i walked home in that half-daze where everything looks slightly melted, like someone’s holding a lighter under the edges of the world. i stopped at the crosswalk even though there were no cars. waited for a green light that never came.
the house smelled different when i got back. warmer. like dust that’s been sitting too long. dad was asleep on the couch with the tv still on. the light from the screen made his face look unreal, like one of those statues you see in churches, all wax and shadow. i thought about turning it off but i didn’t want to wake him. he looked peaceful in that fake way people do when they’ve stopped dreaming.
i used to pray for him. every night. even after i stopped believing. even after he stopped asking. i’d whisper it like a superstition, like if i kept saying please to no one, things might stop breaking. they didn’t. he didn’t. but it’s weird. sometimes i still catch myself doing it. not words, just the shape of them. the muscle memory of hope.
i think catholic school broke something in my head permanently. twelve years of crossing yourself before eating anything sticks. sometimes i wonder if god ever gets bored of being apologized to.
after a while the hum got louder, or maybe my head did, so i left. i went for a walk. it’s getting cold enough now that the air feels thin. i passed the little church near the corner and the door was propped open, lights off inside. i stood there for a minute, listening. the sound the wind made through the doorway. it was like breath, but slower. like someone was trying to remember how.
i kept walking. the sky was that bruised blue where the stars look like pinholes in cardboard. i passed the park. empty swings, one of them still moving like it hadn’t gotten the message. i used to come here when i couldn’t sleep, back when things felt smaller. i’d sit on the bench and count the flickers in the streetlight until my brain felt quiet enough to go home.
now the quiet doesn’t help. it just makes the hum louder. i think the house follows me sometimes, that same low electric noise, stitched under everything. i heard it tonight when i stopped by the old gas station. even the radio behind the counter was buzzing. the clerk didn’t look up. maybe he couldn’t hear it. maybe i’m the only one tuned in.
i stood there for a while, pretending to look at snack cakes, listening to the light breathe. i thought about calling someone, anyone, just to hear a voice that wasn’t mine. but then i pictured the conversation and couldn’t think of a single thing to say that didn’t sound like a confession.
when i finally got home the tv was still glowing. dad hadn’t moved. the air smelled like static. i sat on the floor for a long time, watching the color change on his face every few seconds.. blue, white, blue, white, like tides, or a heartbeat that forgot what it was for.
i thought about the woman at the interview saying i seemed “grounded.” maybe she was right. maybe i really am grounded, stuck in the wiring, humming along with the lights.
i can hear it now. it’s quiet, but it’s there. that low note running under everything. maybe it’s the fridge. maybe it’s the house. maybe it’s me. i keep listening, waiting for it to stop. it doesn’t..