Short Story: Rector Street
Everyone has a past love and a past life. For Nora, revisiting both requires a spiritual awakening.
When the elevator doors opened I was welcomed back into this former world where everything smelled exactly the same as it did eleven years ago. The early 2000’s striped wallpaper, the fire extinguisher still intact in its glass casing, as if nothing had been moved or touched and time stood still again. The hallway carpet smelled exactly the same. I inhaled so deeply that I thought I almost heard him.
I pressed the doorbell followed by three consecutive knocks. So strange to be standing here knocking on the door of an apartment that I had once lived in. Just before my hand balled in a fist ready to knock again, the door swung open and I was greeted by a skinny woman with a dark haired pixie cut wearing an oversized sweater and leggings. She smiled but said nothing, I assumed it was up to me to communicate some sort of greeting. “I’m Nora, for the open house?” She seemed relieved at that and took a few steps back to allow me to step inside, her entire arm waved to the side pointing me to the right direction. We were playing charades, she still hadn’t said a word. Another woman, shorter with an unkempt curly bob and tortoise spectacles came towards me. Her hand reached out to me even before the rest of her body did. As we shook hands her introduction came fast and bluntly. Tillie worked for a film production company on Varick Street and she asked if I had any trouble finding the place. I lied and said that Google maps did its job for once and this garnered a smokers laugh from Tillie. The silent pixie haired girl continued on with hand signals this time motioning me to take a seat in the living room. A small circle of chairs, with five people plus myself seated like we were all gathered for group therapy. I leaned in to the guy next to me and whispered “this is an apartment viewing right?” In between his gum chomping his head nodded and said that yes, apparently this viewing came with an orientation. The dark haired pixie girl passed me a clipboard with two sheets of a questionnaire that Tillie asked for all the applicants to fill out. No lighthearted commentary or joke to supplement the request. I took a deep breath in and caught myself chuckling, which grabbed Tillie’s attention.
“Nora, is everything okay?” Reluctant to satisfy her with words, I smiled back and gave her a thumbs up. This seemed to please her and I continued on writing my answers down on the questionnaire. This could have been an email screamed loudly throughout the room even though it wasn’t vocalized by any one person, I felt what we all thought. I glanced up to see the dark haired pixie girl watching me, almost protective. I wondered if she too lived here or if she was hired by Tillie. I took a break from the clipboard to peruse the room for any signs of refreshments or a plate of cookies. Nothing to quench my thirst or keep my belly from discharging my hunger growls. I hadn’t eaten all day. From the minute I woke up, the anticipation of the apartment viewing was all that had sustained me. Tillie reminded me of a substitute teacher as she collected everyone’s clipboards and announced to the group that we were free to roam around the apartment and to come find her for any questions. People scattered from the circle, little conversations about the exposed brick wall, the size of the loft windows and how glorious it must be to get so much sunlight.
I did not roam, because everything was already familiar to me. The layout remained fresh in my mind, I even remembered how often the radiator would clank and I heard it just then sounding off to four quick taps of a xylophone until it exasperated a long woosh before it silenced again. Inside the room for rent, my old room, there was nothing but a double bed. I waited until the others had their chance to preview, there wasn’t much to look at. A windowless square box with a bed in it, white walls and hardwood floors. Finally it was my turn, as I approached Tillie stopped me to inquire if I had any questions so far. I claimed that the apartment was a good size, looked great and then I turned to her with a serious expression. “Is it okay if I close the door? I just have this thing with energy it’s woo woo I know, but I need to get a feel for the space,” and that’s when she cut me off. She offered me a look of approval, perhaps she was content with this form of liberal and told me to take my time.
I sat on the bed, hands to my side and waited. Voices from the other side of the door would start to come closer until I’d hear Tillie explain “she just needs an extra few minutes, she’ll be right out.” The guy I had sat next to asked ‘extra few minutes for what?’ Still I waited for a sign, a spiritual zephyr to let me know of its presence. Five minutes had passed and I took it as a sign that perhaps I was too late. He wasn’t here like he said he would be. Then as I walked towards the door, his silhouette appeared prominently from the corner of my left eye.
Judge hadn’t changed, his hair and face still properly groomed and dressed in the same wrinkled suit since I was last with him. …
