Without Curtains
For two years, Cecilia had been planted like a tree in her apartment on the third floor at the Kerkstraat in Amsterdam. She suffered from social anxiety, which meant that she had a tremendous fear of being around people, causing uncontrollable panic attacks during which her face would become bright red, her hands would tremble, and her thoughts would falter.
As a child, Cecilia worried all day at school that she would draw attention to herself, and at night, this fear kept her awake. She dragged herself through college, mostly by drinking booze, and then got a job as a young copywriter at a magazine. She never fully understood how she got through the application process. When she was asked to have an interview about a possible promotion, she snapped. She couldn’t breathe, her limbs went numb, and she bolted out of the office. From that moment, she found refuge in her apartment. It was her safe space, as the outer world felt terrifying.
Groceries, Cecilia ordered online. She called her family and friends on the phone, but she wouldn’t allow them to visit. Her parents didn’t know what to do. Cecilia was a grown woman who was allowed to make her own decisions, and Cecilia made it clear that she didn’t want to leave her apartment. She said she simply couldn’t—apart from her biweekly two-minute walks to the trash cans, during which she hid in her hoodie.
For money, Cecilia worked on online copywriting gigs. Her dream was to become an author, but she felt that her lack of real life-experience prevented her from writing anything interesting, as she had been hiding most of the time.
In her apartment, Cecilia watched TV and online shows, read books, and worked on hobbies such as knitting hats. Mostly, she stared out of her window into the street. That’s how one day, she noticed the brightly lit studio apartment right across from hers, also located on the third floor. How come Cecilia had never noticed it before? It seemed that all of a sudden, the window of the apartment was very visible from her living room, like a brightly lit movie screen. Everything inside was crystal clear. Then Cecilia remembered that the apartment used to have curtains and had been dimly lit. Now, someone new had moved in.
It was a young woman, not much older than Cecilia, who had pushed her bed right up against the window. When she lay in it, the crown of her head was clearly visible. The young woman liked to walk naked in her apartment, and Cecilia felt embarrassed to watch. She probably didn’t know that Cecilia could see her, or perhaps she just didn’t care. But it was impossible not to look.
Over the next few weeks, Cecilia witnessed parties in the young woman’s apartment, and wild solo-dance sessions late at night. She saw the men she took home with her after dates, sometimes two at the same time. She watched the young woman make video calls, cook meals, and walk around with wet hair after showers. She also witnessed the more quiet moments during which the woman would read books and watch movies.
Cecilia felt upset that she was able to see everything. There she was, stuck in her apartment, with no life, and across the street now lived a woman who was everything Cecilia was not. The young woman had friends, experienced joy, and lived a seemingly easy life. She left her house whenever she wanted, without a second thought, while Cecilia stayed inside biting her nails. Cecilia both admired and hated the young woman at the same time.
After a few months, the woman got a boyfriend, a young man with whom she seemed perfectly at ease. They had the most shockingly eccentric sex, whenever they wanted, and anywhere. Their lean and attractive bodies constantly rubbed up against each other, and they stayed long mornings in bed making love. Cecilia couldn’t imagine ever being like that. Her most recent love interest, who she had met through Tinder, had never made it to her house, nor did she to his, since it had made her too nervous. Eventually, she ghosted him—not on purpose, but because she was overwhelmed.
While Cecilia watched, the new couple across the street grew closer. They danced intimately to slow jazz music, fed each other cookies and cakes while lying on the sheets, rubbed each other's shoulders, and he even painted her toenails. They told each other funny things since they laughed a lot. In fact, they laughed more in one morning than Cecilia had laughed in an entire year.
Cecilia felt frustrated. For years, that window across the street had meant nothing to her; she had barely ever noticed it, but now, it was all she could look at. She was unwillingly confronted with a life she didn’t want to be a part of, as an accidental voyeur, and she was becoming addicted to it. It felt like binging a reality show, without paying for the entertainment. She knew it was very inappropriate, but no matter how often Cecilia told herself not to stare at the window anymore, she couldn’t stop.
Sometimes Cecilia thought about telling the couple she could see them so clearly. She fantasized about walking over and ringing their bell, asking them to cover themselves in their most intimate moments, but Cecilia knew she didn’t have the guts to face them. She thought about writing a note saying “I can see you!”, and taping it to the woman’s window. But that, too, felt too confrontational. A few times she tried closing her own living room curtains, but it made her room dark and small. She needed her window into the world, it was the only real connection with the outside she currently had.
Cecilia decided that she had to accept the situation and learn to live with it. And so she did. She conformed to the idea of the woman across the road being there, and her partner. Their naked bodies, their eccentric sex at random hours, their dancing in the middle of the room, and their shoulder rubs simply became a part of Cecilia’s daily life. She saw the love birds as the perfect symbol of what she would never be.
Another year passed during which Cecilia didn’t leave her apartment, and during which the young woman across the street didn’t buy curtains. At that point, Cecilia didn’t even want her to. Cecilia felt oddly too connected; the woman and her partner now felt like friends. Sometimes, it even felt as if their lives were what kept Cecilia going. The couple distracted her from her anxiety. They made Cecilia feel more functional.
That’s why, when the apartment turned dark without warning, Cecilia felt extremely unsettled. There was no more activity behind the window. The lights stayed off at night, and during the days no one was there. Cecilia wondered if the young woman had suddenly moved without her noticing. But how was that possible? Her bed and other pieces of furniture were still there. Perhaps the couple had broken up and the young woman went on a sabbatical. Or perhaps, she had had an accident. Cecilia felt strangely abandoned by her neighbors. She had grown so attached to the couple across the street, that now she was upset that they hadn’t said goodbye. She felt more alone than ever.
Without the young woman’s life to distract her, Cecilia focused fully on her social anxiety again, and it started to take up the majority of her thoughts, as it had before. Meanwhile, she convinced herself that she felt relieved that the young woman was gone. She was no longer forced to be an accidental voyeur. It was better that way.
After two months of complete darkness, the lights across the street suddenly turned on. But it wasn’t as before. The studio apartment was lit at early hours, and that never happened, as the young woman never went anywhere early. But even though the room was brightly lit, Cecilia didn’t see anyone. The room remained completely empty. Periods of darkness were now interspersed with early mornings during which the lights were on, but the room remained always empty.
Another two months later, on a day hot summer’s day, Cecilia unexpectedly saw a man sitting in the window. He looked up into the sky, and then down into the street. He was wearing a rather unflattering gray t-shirt that stretched tight around a small potbelly. He had hunched shoulders, and his half-long hair fell in lifeless strands along his face. Cecilia thought the man looked sad. It took one to know one. He sat there for hours looking out of the window, and over the next few days, he remained there. Cecilia couldn’t figure out who he was, or what he was doing there.
Then a woman appeared in the room as well. She was standing right at the window by the bed, naked. She was bald, and her body was so skinny that she looked like a skeleton. A shock went through Cecilia’s body. She realized she was looking at the couple she knew so well, but they had completely changed. The young woman was clearly sick, and it was serious. Her eyes lay deep in her face and her cheekbones stood out sharply. She barely had breasts anymore, and her skin lay loose over each rib below. Her body looked like it was made of porcelain that could break at any moment. Cecilia guessed that the woman had gone through chemotherapy and that she was now recovering.
The young woman mostly stayed in her bed. Cecilia could clearly see her bald head; it looked so much smaller than before. Her partner was mostly there with her in the apartment. He would make her food, read her books, and stroke her arm, chest, and head. The tenderness between the two deeply touched Cecilia. How could this have happened? The woman was so young.
Cecilia had been watching the couple across the street for over a year, but now her focus on them became obsessive. They were the first thing she checked every morning, and the last thing she looked at before going to bed. She expected the young woman to gain weight and health, but she didn’t. If anything, she was only getting thinner. And Cecilia grew increasingly worried. She became afraid that upon waking in the morning, the woman wouldn’t be there. Her symbol of a healthy life was withering, and sometimes it felt as if Cecilia was withering with her.
Six months later, a few days after Christmas, people gathered in the apartment. Cecilia panicked as she guessed that they were there to say goodbye. A young man Cecilia had never seen before paced through the house. Her brother, perhaps. Or that of her partner, as he somewhat looked like him. Then there was a young woman present who somewhat looked like her neighbor, in her healthier days. Her sister, possibly. A middle-aged lady sat next to the bed and didn’t leave, except for when she went to the bathroom. It was her mother, most likely. Tears rolled down the woman’s face, and Cecilia thought of her own mother, whom she hadn’t allowed to visit for over three years now. A lump blocked Cecilia’s throat and she cried together with the rest, unseen. She thought about her own death, and how no one would be there to say goodbye.
All day, people came and went, and Cecilia sat in her living room, watching. Eventually, everyone left, except for the partner and the woman’s mother who was incessantly wiping her eyes. It was late at night. Candles were lit and both sat next to the bed. Cecilia saw a black shadow in the back of the room waiting patiently, and instantly she knew it was death, there to take the young woman. The mother climbed into the bed beside her daughter and stroked her face tenderly, while the young man stayed sitting and held his beloved’s hand. The room filled with so much affection that the shadow of death disappeared, but only temporarily. When it returned, it had grown in size. It approached the bed while Cecilia pushed her fingers into her sofa. She knew it was time and she held her breath. The shadow covered the bed, entirely, and veiled the emaciated body of the young woman with its dark cloak. The young woman’s chest went up and down one last time, and then it stopped. Cecilia exhaled. It was done. The young woman was gone.
The young man laid his head on his departed partner's shoulder while her mother rested her hands on her daughter's chest. They lay there for a long time as Cecilia watched. In her memories, she could see the couple dancing through the room, happily, and having breakfast in bed. She remembered their dinner parties and their eccentric sex. She remembered their kisses, their caresses, and their joy. Now the woman was gone, and he was still there. And the mother. And Cecilia, an invisible third person at the deathbed.
Cecilia watched the room for a long time, and then she went to bed, but couldn’t sleep. She saw the death scene over and over again. She felt abandoned. She didn’t get to say goodbye. All this time, she had expected the couple to fight, break up, and move on, like most people their age. But she never imagined their love story to have such a tragic end. A separation decided by illness.
The next morning, Cecilia walked directly to the window. In the room, a coroner and his assistant were pulling the body of the young woman to the edge of the bed while wearing white plastic gloves. The body of the woman looked shrunken and almost transparent. She didn’t look human anymore. It was the first dead body Cecilia had ever seen and it made her shudder.
In the back of the room stood the partner. He had empty eyes. Behind him, Cecilia saw the mother. She was hiding from the horrid scene. The coroner and his assistant wrapped the young woman’s body in a sheet and then zipped her into a vinyl bag. They placed her on the gurney and rolled her out of the apartment. The partner and mother followed. Cecilia thought it seemed unnatural and sterile.
When the mother returned to the room, she folded the blankets and stacked them on the empty bed. Then she left. And so did the partner. Cecilia didn’t work that day, nor the next, nor the days after. She was in mourning for someone she had never met.
A few days later, the partner returned to the apartment and lay in bed, alone. He was totally changed from the first time Cecilia had seen him. He no longer looked young. He looked experienced, mature—too mature for his age. When he got out of bed, he danced through the room, alone, to jazz, as they had done together. He stayed in the apartment for a few days and then disappeared. Without a warning, without a goodbye. And Cecilia stayed behind. Alone. Locked inside her apartment without anywhere to go.
But something had changed inside of her. She, too, had matured through the experience. She felt that she had a duty to make something of her life. Find love, dance to jazz, have eccentric sex, and enjoy breakfast in bed. Cecilia decided that she had to start living, as it could be over at any time. And most importantly, she had to go see her parents. But first, she had to write about the young woman across the street. She couldn't talk to anyone she knew about it, but she had to get it out. And so she wrote, for days. She wrote about everything that she had seen and felt. And when she was done, she sent it to a book agent.
Then she booked an appointment with a behavioral therapist and left her home for the first time in three years. It was terrifying, but Cecilia knew she had to push herself into situations that scared her. She had to. She had to learn how to live. She owed it to the young woman who no longer could.
One month later, Cecilia was invited for an interview by the agent she had sent her story to. It came as a shock, and she felt terrified. For a moment, she felt tempted to lock herself up in her apartment again. But when looking at the window across the street, where a new neighbor had hung curtains, she knew it was impossible. She couldn’t stay in, not after what she had experienced.
One year later, Cecilia’s novella “Without Curtains” was published; she had to present the book in front of the press. It was terrifying, but she did it. Her family and friends were all there, and so was her new partner with whom she often danced around her the living room. She dedicated the book to a woman whose name she didn’t know and whom she had never personally met, but who, by dying, had saved her life.