Do Not Disturb

A work of fiction about emotional claustrophobia, circular arguments, and the rooms we leave before we understand how trapped we were.

Room 1705, New York City

He placed his luggage in the middle of the room.

“This doesn’t look like a place you’d pay $300 a night for.”

“It’s lower Manhattan. It’s close to everything I wanted to show you. It’s also close to places you might enjoy seeing. You told me you’d never been to New York before.”

“Yes, but if I were you, I wouldn’t pay all this money for this room.”

“I mean, it’s clean and elegant. It’s big, it has good lighting, and there’s a kitchen, so we won’t need to eat out all the time. We can make our own breakfast here.”

“Yes, hotel breakfast sucks.”

“I know. It always upsets my stomach.”

They exchanged a quick shrug. He picked up a few towels from the bathroom and laid them on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“The floor is dirty,” he said, with a twist on his lips.

“It seems fine to me.” She inspected the floor. “But do whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Did you see the fridge? It has a thick layer of ice. This is not good. Also, do you smell the air? It’s not healthy.”

“Well, you’re in New York.”

“I could never live here. Driving here is a pain. And I thought people in Virginia drove crazy.”

She went to the window and rolled the shades higher.

“Did you hear what I said?” With a sharp tone, he asked.

“What? Yes, I heard you.” She moved to the second window.

“Then why are you ignoring me?”

She stopped and turned to him. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“You just did.”

“I’m opening the window while we’re talking. It’s multitasking.”

“You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Ignore what I say.”

“I’m not ignoring you. Sometimes I might not hear you, or I might not be fully focused, but I would never ignore you on purpose.” She walked closer and looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

“This is not acceptable. I can’t endure this hostility.”

“What hostility?” she plead.

“Don’t raise your voice at me. You’re yelling.”

She struggled not to release a loud sigh; she knew this would trigger him further.

“What? Now you are frustrated?” He fired at her.

Trying to manage her tone and volume. “I’m not yelling. I’m speaking intensely because I don’t understand where this is coming from.”

“You’re doing it right now. Do you hear yourself? Do you hear the way you’re talking to me?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to disrespect you in any way. Babe, please. We came here to have fun and enjoy our time together.” She moved closer to him and placed her hands on his cheeks, touching his beard. “Hey. Why don’t we go out and get some pizza?”

“But we didn’t finish the conversation.”

“What is there to talk about?”

“The way you’re disregarding my feelings. You make it unsafe for me to be vulnerable.”

She bit her lower lip. A familiar pain crossed her face, the kind that no longer surprised her.

“Okay,” she said tenderly. “Tell me what I should do to make you feel safe.”

“You don’t know? You tell me how you resolve conflict.”

“I talk about it. I make room for the other person to express themselves. I — ”

“No. This is not how people resolve conflict.”

“How do you want us to resolve conflict?”

“You tell me. You wrote about conflict. No one needs to tell you how to do it.”

“Listen, maybe when I’m upset, you can give me some time to calm down so we can talk quietly, and I won’t make you feel unsafe.”

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long will you need to calm down? Thirty minutes? An hour?”

“Maybe.”

“Then what? Why do we drop the subject until it becomes meaningless to talk about it?”

“The issue keeps coming up in almost all of our outings and dates. We’ll still have to address it at some point.”

“Oh, really, so tell me why your last relationship ended. It’s you. It’s the way you resolve conflict. But no, you drifted apart, you say. You can’t even keep someone in your life.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“You know nothing about what I’ve been through.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

He grabbed her hand and led her to the bed. He sat down, and she remained standing, holding his head against her body.

Time bent strangely. Neither of them could tell whether it was moving forward or looping them back to the beginning.

“Do you hate yourself?” he asked.

“What?”

“Why are you with me? Are you settling because you can’t find anyone else?”

“I am choosing, and I chose you.”

“Do you even like yourself?”

She let go of him and began walking away.

“Your reaction right now, walking away, proves my point.”

She paused, looked at him, then walked to the other side of the bed. She lay down carefully, as if the mattress could swallow her whole if she made the wrong move. She turned to face the window.

Outside, New York pressed its lights against the glass.

Inside, the towels surrendered across the floor, bleached and useless.

The door was not locked. That was the worst part.

He approached her and spooned her. Tears rolled down her face. He smelled her hair and began to sob.

Beyond the glass, the city kept glittering and groaning, its light moving over their faces as if trying to bewitch them to stay trapped in this room. In the alternating light and shadow, they looked less like lovers than wreckage. Two bodies held together by need, longing for an affection they can’t offer, and desires neither of them could reach.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered after a while. “We keep having these arguments, but we go nowhere. Why do we keep arguing, my love? I don’t want to fight with you.”

He said nothing. He kissed her cheek and held her tight. Then he let go and lay on his back. She placed her head on his chest and kissed near his heart. They closed their eyes and napped, both physically and mentally exhausted.

At midnight, she woke to the loud murmur of the TV and the crackling of dishes.

“What are you doing?” she forced out.

“Making breakfast for tomorrow. I don’t want to wake up early, so I’m making it now. Am I bothering you?”

“No. I’ll just go back to sleep.”

“Do you want to talk?”

She could barely open her eyes. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Are you ignoring me again?”

“No. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.”

He came to her side of the bed and placed his hand on her forehead.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” she answered automatically, then gave him a faint smile and drifted back toward sleep.

Around three in the morning, she opened her eyes to a dark room. He had shut all the blinds. She could see only a faint radiance from the city’s street signs struggling to climb into the room. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Slowly, the shapes of things returned: the chair, the kitchenette, the suitcase, the towels still spread on the floor.

Her nervous system had woken her. She knew that now. And though she was grateful for the quiet, she worried she would have to face another long day with him without enough sleep.

She shut her eyes and tried to force herself into slumber, but his snoring filled the room. She opened her eyes again and released a controlled, quiet sigh. Another two hours passed before she could fall asleep, only to wake again at six.

When she got out of bed, he opened his eyes.

“Good morning, my love,” he whispered.

“Good morning,” she answered with the vacant politeness of whose sleep had come in fragments. She added, “I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Was it me?”

“Um, not really. I don’t sleep well in new places.”

She got up and went to make her coffee. Then she turned toward him.

“I know you don’t drink coffee, but do you want a cup?”

“No,” he said, smiling. “But I love your determination. You almost make me like coffee.” For a second, he looked at her the way he did when he saw her for the first time, “I made some omelets. They’re in the fridge. I stayed up last night because I wanted my babe to be nourished.”

“Thank you, babe. Do you want to eat with me?”

“No, I want to go back to bed. It’s too early.”

He returned to bed and lay down, watching her as she ate some of the omelet and sipped her coffee. Then he dozed off. She grabbed her phone and scrolled for a while.

When he woke up, he showered and came back to sit at the table with her.

“Can we talk now?”

“About what?”

“About us. This relationship is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. The way you make conversations unsafe for me to express myself.”

“What?” she was wrestling with the intensity in her tone.

“See. You’re doing it right now.”

“I’m sorry. I’m trying to control my responses. I thought we were done with that conversation. I thought we talked about it yesterday.”

“Yeah, but we reached no resolution. All we did was have sex and hug. We didn’t resolve our issues.”

“We’ve only been dating for several months.”

“Yah, and it’s not like any of us is cheating or being weird about money, or any of the major issues couples fight over,” He uttered.

“Exactly!!! Then what..is..the..issuuuuue?”

“Why do you keep dismissing me? I have the right to be respected, and you keep doing this.”

“Babe, forgive me. I don’t want to disrespect you in any way. Please, can we go out and do something? It’s a beautiful day. The sun is up, and the city is calling us. We’ll feel better afterward, and then we can talk when we go back home.”

“I can’t let time pass without addressing this issue.”

“Please. Please, I’m begging you. Tell me what you need from me, and I’ll do it.”

“This is not how we resolve conflict. If you don’t know what the issue is and what I need, then that’s a problem.”

“Then please explain it to me. I’m slow. I’m not getting it. Please explain what you need from me.”

“You don’t know?”

“Sweetheart, pookie, I am sorry, but I don’t, okay.” Her voice trembled.

“Your apology is making it worse. You’re proving my point.”

“For the love of God, please explain your point to me. Tell me what I should do. Tell me what you want me to say.”

“I can’t do that if you don’t know. That would mean I’m manipulating you.”

“It’s not manipulation if I’m asking you. If it’s something I don’t like, then I’ll tell you I don’t like it. I will explain my mind.”

“Then why would I tell you if you’re going to question it?”

She sat in despair, her mouth half open.

The morning folded into the same argument. She explained, apologized, rephrased, softened her tone, lowered her voice, moved her hands, and exerted control over rhythm and gesture to make him feel safe. Nothing entered him. Her words went toward him and came back twisted, sharpened, carrying accusations she had not made. The morning turned into a tape on rewind; it repeated the same sentence in different forms: You are unsafe to be around. You are unsafe to be with. You are unsafe to talk to.

“I can’t take this anymore,” she said after hours, holding her head. “I can’t do this. My head is about to explode. I need air. I’m going out for some air. At least you will be able to feel safe when I am away.”

“Nah, you’re going out to pick someone up and bring a man back to the hotel room to tease me.”

She stared at him in horror.

“What? Are you insane?” she snapped.

Confused, he justified: “Yeah. It happened to me before.”

“It happened to you before? Who does that? You know, I can’t right now. I really need to go. I don’t care what you think.”

“Well, are you?”

She stood in front of him, carrying a sock still in her hand while she wore the other. Her mouth opened, but language stuck in her throat. For a moment, the room seemed to tilt away from reality.

She looked at him with a sad gaze: “Perhaps we’re so different that it is impossible for us to understand each other,” her words slow and strained. “Maybe this relationship can’t go anywhere. Maybe we should break up and end this ordeal.”

He looked at her in disbelief. “You’re not serious, are you?”

He began to tear up.

“Yes, I am. I’m serious. This is insane. We’ve been arguing for two days without reaching a conclusion.”

“Can we just talk about it?”

“No. No, I can’t talk about it anymore. Haven’t we talked enough? Words can’t hold us together.”

He started weeping. Pain moved through her mind, body, and heart, all at once. She could hear her own head pounding.

“Please,” he said, his voice trembling. “Can we… just… discuss this?”

“I’m done with words. We came here to lounge and be together, and you made it clear that the entire issue is being together. You ruined the trip. I’ve been planning and waiting for this for a while, and you ruined it.”

She began gathering her things and packing her suitcase.

“I’m checking out. Do whatever you want.”

He continued to weep.

She packed her toiletries, folded her clothes, and rolled her suitcase up to the door. She placed her hand on the doorknob. As she listened to the small crackle of the lock, she heard him say, “I love you.”

Her tears fell onto the hand holding the doorknob. She halted for a second. Some part of her still wanted to turn back, to make room for herself inside his pain. But there was no room. There had never been room.

“I love you too.”

Outside, sirens and car horns rose from the street, drowning out whatever love had failed to save.