Alone, Freezing, and on the Edge

I had to live alone in that cold, rainy city for a few years. I arrived just as the pandemic was beginning. I left Monterrey thinking the gym closures would last only a few weeks. But when I searched for a place to train, I found that the few nearby gyms were closed.

I was far from my family, living alone for the first time—something I had always wanted to experience after hearing my coworkers' stories. But you have to be careful what you wish for because it might just come true.

When my mother died 20 years ago, I stayed with my father for a while, though I was rarely home. Between work, my girlfriend (now my wife), and my friends, I spent little time there. Then I got married and started my own family.

I remember the day I told my wife I would have to work far away for several weeks. She was upset. I thought about turning down the offer. It wasn’t a short trip; I was practically moving to another place. My daughters didn’t say much, but they understood in their own way.

On one Father’s Day, I joined my youngest daughter’s school celebration remotely. I was the only father attending online. When the teacher asked the kids to hug their dads, my little girl broke into tears. That image pierced my soul. Few things have ever hurt me that much.

The first birthday I spent away, my wife and daughters came to visit. But they only did it once.

I rented a small room on the second floor that my wife helped me find. The first time I saw it, I thought: I can’t live here alone. It was a tiny, rustic place—a bed, a kitchen, and a bathroom. The shower was like a phone booth, barely big enough to fit inside. The space had once been an office, and its odd layout included interior windows between the kitchen and the bedroom.

A huge window made the room freezing at night. I put up thick curtains, and the place became dark. The lighting was that typical, harsh white office light—uncomfortable and cold. I bought bulbs and extension cords to make it feel more livable.

The first few days were awful. I worked late, preferring to stay at the office until 8 or 9 p.m. I didn’t want to return to that dark, freezing room. Even though I was alone at work at that hour, it felt different.

When I finally got back, I would connect with my wife and daughters. That didn’t help either. Seeing them from a distance only made me feel worse. The streets were deserted, the cinemas and malls were closed. By 10 p.m., silence took over. And the cold... a cold that cut to the bone.

I remember one night in particular. The temperature dropped suddenly, and I, still new to the place, wasn’t used to it. I only had a couple of thin blankets, which didn’t do much. I lay down, shivering uncontrollably. For a moment, I thought I might die there, alone in that bleak room. I trembled so much that I eventually passed out. I don’t know if I fell asleep or simply lost consciousness.

One of those nights, I heard noises from the next room. I didn’t know who lived there, but I could make out two male voices and one female. It was around 11 or 12 at night, and in that neighborhood, silence was absolute after 10.

Then came the banging against the wall, the moans. The walls were so thin that I could hear everything. The bed on the other side slammed against the wall. If I placed my hand on the surface, I could feel the impacts.

The woman’s moans grew louder until, finally, they stopped.

I was alone, freezing to death, while just inches away from me, a trio of strangers seemed to be having the time of their lives in a place that, at first glance, didn’t promise much action. I was sure that at least they were neither cold nor alone.