by L. W. Clark
I handed her the remote control so she wouldn’t ask me to turn it on for her. They sat down for dinner. She didn’t cook. She just heated some stuff and they ate as they chatted. She would ask him questions and he would respond with short sentences. I had no idea what the conversation was about, so I grabbed the English book and read.
Reading makes me so sleepy. I can’t keep my eyes open. How long am I going to have to wait for them to finish and leave the kitchen so I can crash? This is torture. Every time I hear her voice and his response, I’m hoping that will be it. But no. It’s going on and on. I don’t like being so dependent on others. All I can do is wait. I have no control. It’s like being held captive. Oh, good, they’re done, finally.
The next morning was just like the day before. Same routine. I was so sleepy because I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep. Then I fell asleep right before I had to get up. I hate when that happens. It feels like you have a hangover without the fun. I forced myself to get up and make the bed, even though I planned to go back to bed as soon as they left. But after they left I was wide awake.
This is even more boring than yesterday. I need to find a job, and fast. I want to get busy and make some money. These two days make me feel like a nobody, like I don’t exist. I’ve been so inactive it’s become rather disturbing. I wonder why Lora said no when I asked her if it would be ok if I took a walk. It was a firm no, without hesitation. She even shook her head and seemed irritated. She didn’t even explain why. She can’t be afraid I’d run away—they took my passport the first night, as security to make sure they got paid. I guess I could’ve asked her why, but with my weak English I wasn’t so sure I’d say the right things. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding. Did I even ask her the right way? Maybe I didn’t say something right and she heard it completely different and it scared her?
I smiled and laughed out loud. I was overthinking it and became so tired. I was thinking so much that I drove myself crazy. That’s what happens when you have too much time. Thinking isn’t a bad thing. But too much of it and your thoughts start to spin out of control and become useless. I took a shower to clear my mind.
After putting on some fresh clothes I started to head downstairs when I paused in the hallway. I saw the couple’s bedroom door wide open. When I went to the bathroom the night before I noticed they were sleeping with the door open. I thought it was rather odd, sleeping with the door open when someone’s in a house, but maybe they just forgot to close it.
Maybe they never close the door? Then why even have it? Maybe it’s just broken. This is so silly, but it does make me curious. Maybe I should go into the room, just to see it. No, no, I shouldn’t do that. It’s not me. I’m not a nosey person. No, I’m not, but then again, I have nothing else to do. It doesn’t matter. It’s a bad idea. Inappropriate and rude. But … I still want to go inside. I know, I’ll just sneak in and out. I won’t touch anything. I’ll just look.
I started walking in but stopped.
What is wrong with me? I can’t do this. It’s not right. It’s not, but what’s the harm? Why not go in? Just for fun. It’s not a big deal. But what happens if I see something that I shouldn’t? That could be uncomfortable. What could that possibly be? They seem like normal people, kind of. Yes, yes, it’s fine. Besides, my intuition tells me there’s some reason I should do this. Why is Lora so strict about me staying in the house? Maybe she doesn’t want the neighbors to see me? When we came home from the airport, I don’t think anybody saw us.
My heart started pounding.
Here we go, another something to worry about. Like I don’t have enough already? I need to just go inside and see if everything is fine so I can stay calm and sleep well. Yes, that’s right. That’s the reason.
I went inside. Even though it was daylight, it looked like nighttime in the bedroom. The dark shades were down. I wanted the shades up so I could see better but I left them down. I was afraid to touch anything. I just wanted to look around. It was a simply decorated room. They had a large-sized bed that took up most of the room. There was one dresser, a standing floor mirror and one armchair. All the furniture was dark brown. It was a heavy and dramatic looking bedroom, which made me want to leave, quickly. I raced down the stairs, grabbed my English study book, and sat down on the couch.
It was good I left. There wasn’t anything interesting to see there. I feel relieved. It’s better to focus on my studying.
I opened the book to do some exercises. I kept reading but my mind was elsewhere. I was distracted and couldn’t focus. I read the same page over and over again and couldn’t remember anything.
I hate when this happens. I’m just wasting my time. Maybe I need to close my eyes and relax.
I closed my eyes. My thoughts went back to the time I looked in the mirror and saw myself as two people, when I discovered my dual male–female personalities inside the essential, feminine body.
I wonder if I’d see anything different now, since I’ve traveled into this unknown place. To fully see myself, I need a full mirror, like the one upstairs, in their bedroom. I need to go back. I just want to look at myself, that’s all. Or, maybe I’m just trying to find a reason to go back in there?
I went back to the room, and straight to the mirror. I didn’t look around this time since there was nothing to see. I could barely see myself because it was so dark. I could make out some features of my face and the silhouette of my body. I hadn’t moved much the last few days, so I wanted to see if my shape was still good. I was a little obsessive about being in shape. Mirrors have always been my best friend. I love standing right in front of the mirror and spending quality time there.
“You know,” my friend once told me. “I watched you, always checking yourself out in the mirror. You once told me you do that to make sure you didn’t gain any weight. I started doing the same thing, and it motivated me to eat better and exercise. I’ve lost a lot of weight, thanks to you.”
I’m happy I found this mirror. I can have some fun while checking myself out. I like the way I look, but then, maybe not so much. I look sad and tired. My eyes are puffy, cheerless.
I did a couple of turns, right and left, left and right. I looked straight and in profile, and I did it all over again, checking on my body from top to bottom.
I look fine. I am fine. My body looks the same. I just need some sleep and exercise. Wait, what’s that?
I noticed something in the mirror. It was a door. I didn’t see it when I went in the first time and I wondered how I missed it. The bedroom door was always open, but this door was closed. I walked towards the door.
Was it possible the bedroom is connected to another room? Now I definitely want to see inside. I’m not hesitating this time.
I opened the door and switched on the light. It was a walk-in closet. I had never seen one in person before. We didn’t have them back home. Nobody did. This was fascinating to me.
How nice for your clothes and shoes to have a room of their own? It seems respectful to the things we wear and use every day. I love it. I hope I can have one someday.
The closet was divided in two, one side for her and one for him. His side was a mess, hers was organized. Her side looked colorful and fresh, with a lot of clothes. Not so much color on his side. I went to her side to take a closer look. I wasn’t going to take any piece or try anything on. I checked them out, and went back and forth a few times, as I touched a few pieces to feel the fabric. I looked at them, over and over again.
I’ve never seen so many dresses with so many styles in one closet. Tops with long, short or no sleeves. Tight and loose pants in different colors. Skirts that were long and short. It looks like a store. I can only dream of having so many clothes. I’m astonished.
But this wasn’t all. On the shelf above the clothes I saw so many boxes lined up side by side and stacked high, filled with shoes.
I’m in complete shock. I think I’m going to pass out. This is insane. Does she own a shoe company? No, t
hat’s not it. I think she said she’s a pharmacist and he works at some real estate company. But how was this possible to have this many pairs of shoes? How many times could you possibly wear each one of them? I have two pairs of shoes. One for the warm weather and one for the cold. I have got to see these shoes. But there are so many, it might take too long to go through every box. I would freak out if one of them came home and caught me going through their stuff.
But I started looking, from the top box to the bottom. I just looked. I didn’t take them out to try them on. She wasn’t my size anyway, which somehow made me feel better. I opened the fourth box and saw my dream shoes. The kind I’d love to wear on a special day in my life. I loved them. They were leather, with a pastel beige color, five-inch-high heels, a rounded cut open toe, with a small-sized pearl on the right side. These shoes belonged to me. It was just my style. I couldn’t stop myself.
I took them out and tried them on, even though they weren’t my size. They barely fit. They were painful but enjoyable at the same time. I looked in the mirror and dreamed of having them one day. They looked so beautiful on me.
That’s it. I have got to get things going here. I need to be more active and ambitious, so I can improve my situation and be free. So free that I can indulge myself and others without financial worries. But I’ve got to take these off. My feet are killing me.
I said goodbye and put them back where they belonged. I was just about to leave the goldmine, but I saw that it was still early, so I checked a few more boxes. And then more, and more, and more, until I was on the last row. I tried to slide the box out halfway, to open the top and sneak a peek, when the entire stack of boxes fell and landed right on my head.
Damn, that hurt! I just got punished. Good, I deserve this. I shouldn’t be so nosey. I shouldn’t be somewhere I don’t belong. Now I’m pissed at myself.
I worked fast to put the boxes back up on the shelf. The problem was I didn’t remember the exact order. I lined them up and switched a few boxes, stepped back and looked.
What if Lora has some way she organizes these boxes? If she does, I am so screwed. If she asks, how can I respond? And what would happen to me? Maybe she’ll send me back home or somewhere else?
I focused on putting the boxes back the way I remembered. As I was finishing, I began to feel better. I sat down on the floor for a second. My knees were hurting from bending up and down. I looked around. My work was done. The boxes looked nice and organized. I was fairly confident that I put them back where they were supposed to be. As I sat there, I noticed three other boxes all the way in the back of the closet on the floor, slightly hidden by some hanging clothes.
Why not open them? I’m already guilty, I’ve already been punished. I might as well have a look.
I gathered all three together and tried to lift them out, but they were kind of heavy, so I pulled each box out individually. I opened the top of the first box, looked and closed it—fast. I opened the second and closed it even faster than the first. I became nervous. With the last one I opened the top slightly, peeked in with one eye, and closed it. I quickly put the three boxes back. As I stood up, my heart was pounding and my hands were shaking.
SEVEN
April 1996, New Jersey
I don’t remember running from the closet, but I suddenly found myself downstairs, pacing around the living room. I was frantic.
What the hell was that? A different kind of gun in each box? That explains why they were heavy. Look at me, I’m sweating, confused and scared. Did I close the closet door? Maybe not, but who cares? I don’t care about anything except how to escape from this house. I wish I could call someone, to tell them what happened and to ask for help. I remember my hesitation about going into that damn bedroom. My internal debate, back and forth. See? My intuition said don’t go in, and it was right. Something bad is going to happen and I don’t feel safe. I need to do something. I want to leave this place, but how?
And, who are these people anyway? Why did they want to help me out with money and get me over here? Maybe they’re the kind people who just want some extra cash, but they certainly don’t seem desperate for money. I should stay positive. Maybe everything is fine. But why did they have guns hidden in the house, and in shoeboxes? Do they collect them? Is it just a hobby? Is it that unsafe around here that people need guns for protection? How could that be? No one is ever around! OK, just calm down. Think … think … who … Zachary! My travel buddy, I should call him. He would help me out. I can explain my situation and I’m sure he’d come and rescue me.
I looked for his phone number in my purse. I grabbed the phone and called. After two rings I hung up.
Is this the right thing to do? Maybe I’m exaggerating the situation and he would even laugh at me. And how am I going to ask him to get me out of here when I don’t even know where I am? I don’t even know the address.
Lora came home early. She looked happy and was friendly.
“How was your day?” she asked with a smile.
“Good,” I said.
“I had a good day too,” she said, and she told me all about it.
I wish I could speak English well. I can understand more than I can speak. It’s like I’m mute but not deaf.
“Well,” she continued, “I’m off tomorrow so I can work on finding you a job. You understand?”
“Yes,” I said.
But not really.
“I’ll make some phone calls. The job market is pretty good for live-in help so hopefully it won’t take too long. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes,” I said with a smile.
I have no clue what she’s trying to tell me. I get a word every now and then. All I can think about are the guns upstairs. But I can’t show any emotions. She looks kind of different to me. Her face is slimmer and her nose is even longer. Her lips look like they’ve disappeared behind the red lipstick. It’s funny what our imagination does. I liked her yesterday. Well, not that much, but I kind of liked her style and fresh look. But now I see her as a monster, with a small and unattractive face. She’s a complete stranger to me. She was always strange, but now she was even stranger, and dangerous.
When she turned to go upstairs my heart started pounding so fast and hard that I thought it might pop out of my body. I became anxious. I had no idea how I would respond to her questions if she asked about her closet. I sat down and didn’t move as I watched her climb the stairs. I listened to hear something, but it was silent for a long time. It was like sitting in a waiting room, waiting for your name to be called. I heard water running so I assumed she was showering. Time slowed down, like they say it does when your life is in danger. An hour passed and I was still sitting in the same position.
I hope Viktor shows up soon. And why would that help? I guess it wouldn’t. My head hurts from thinking about what’s going on here. I’m like some kind of filmmaker with all these different stories to choose from. What a messed-up movie.
Maybe she’s going to kill me tonight. That’s why she came home early, and why she’s being so nice to me. Maybe they’re both sick people and this is what they do. Invite foreigners in and then kill them, for pleasure. If they killed me, nobody would ever find me. Maybe no one around them knows they have a guest in the house. Maybe that’s the reason she doesn’t want me going outside for a walk. Who would come looking for me? No one in this country knows I’m even here, except Zachary, and who knows where he is. Even if someone asked where I was they can just say I left. They weren’t responsible for me. My family is so far away they can’t do anything to find me.
Or … maybe they want someone killed and they want me to do it. How evil would that be? I’ve never even thought about killing anyone. I even hate movies where people kill each other. And I’m really afraid of guns and knives. Geez, I pass out at even the sight of a few drops of blood. I remember crying once when a bandage got stuck on my skin and I was afraid to take it off because it might bleed.
Wait, hang on. What is up with a
ll these thoughts? Am I going crazy? It’s OK to have guns at home. People do it all the time, and it doesn’t mean they kill people. Then again, why hide them in a shoebox?
Maybe they’re not killers, but they’ve set a trap for me to find the guns, and now they’re going to punish me by making me pay them even more money. Yes, this makes sense. I like this story the best. Those first two stories are more interesting. There’s action, suspense and killing. The stuff a lot of people like. But I like this third story, since I still love myself.
The phone rang and startled me out of my private movie production. It rang a few times, but Lora didn’t answer it. I wanted to hear her speak. Not that I would understand what she said, but at least I could hear the tone of her voice, to figure out her mood. Then the phone rang again. I stood up and went closer to the stairs to hear, but she wasn’t answering. I didn’t hear the shower running anymore. I waited for a little bit and went back to the couch. The phone rang once more, but still she didn’t answer.
What happened to her? Did she kill herself? That’s yet another interesting story!
I smiled. The singing of birds outside distracted me. I went to the window to see them. I needed a distraction. I had to stop thinking and scaring myself. I saw two small birds sitting on a branch. They looked so beautiful. They were lively and happy. I smiled as I watched them. I thought they were a couple and in love. One would tweet and the other would tweet back. They were nestled together. They didn’t move except for their heads, which darted fitfully, left, right, up, down. I wondered if they could see me. Maybe they did. Who knows?
Life can be so beautiful when we stop to see the beauty. I mean really see beauty, without labeling anything. It’s all around us. I saw those birds and they made me happy. It felt so wonderful. All we really need is love, and we should all have love. We should search for it, fight for it, to feel it, have it and enjoy it. We don’t have time to waste time. We shouldn’t let time-wasting activities dominate us. They make us invisible, and invisibility brings unhappiness, and when we’re unhappy, we become empty.
