Anybody

“W hat a waste”. I whisper loud enough for her to hear. She is so young. Could have been pretty but she’s all drugged up sitting on a bus bench not knowing what left from right is. I should not have to deal with this crap. I shake my head in disgust.

I wait for two dreadful minutes. All the oxygen I breathe consists of sewer and vomit. “Just count to 100... This too shall pass.” Finally, my bus arrives and I scurry toward the door. At least she doesn’t seem like she’ll be stable enough to stand. I make no efforts to signal the bus driver to wait. As I rush up the steps, all I can think of is the look on her face. The way she smelled. I am so glad I was never that stupid.

I’m greeted with a nod as I quickly tap my pass onto the sensor. “There are never any front seats!” I walk to the back. There’s a single seat left. “I lucked out.” When I finally reach my seat, I see what appears to be someone’s planner. A little black notebook. I pinch the corners of the book and slightly toss it under my chair while quickly wiping my fingers off on my pants. Twenty-three blocks pass and I hear my stop. I jump up.

I walk 2 blocks past the Dunkin that always gets my coffee wrong, up my steps, and in the lobby. It smells like commercial carpeting and air freshener. I head to the mailbox and I see him. “Oh, hi John!” He melts me every time. He has got such a nice face. I shake my head in agreeance to my inner thoughts. He has this naturally tan thing going on that perfectly goes with his black silky hair. When he blinks, you can see the length of his lashes almost touch his eyebrows. I love when we share the elevator. Sometimes I wait for him to check his mail. Maybe one day he’ll notice me.

The elevator is two stops too short as I’m pretending to be preoccupied with what I know to be bills in my hand and I give him a flirty nod “bye John...” He smiles like he knows what I’m thinking. I look down and walk away.

The second the elevator doors close, I drop my mail. My mouth does the same as I glare at my front door. “What the hell!” Had I left my door open this whole time?! Or is there someone in my apartment? My initial thought is to call creepy Sal. He’s the only maintenance man for the whole building and I’m pretty sure he’s killed someone before. I need him to check my apartment for burglars and possibly change my locks. Better him than me, I guess. For a scary woman who lives alone in a city full of drug addicts and crazy people, I sure do some careless things. I stare at the door for a few more seconds before I snap out of it and pull out my phone.

Creepy Sal gets off the elevator and walks right in. He checks my apartment and the moment he’s done; I subtly push him toward the door.

Call me if you n..” “I’m good Sal, thanks for checking.”

I close the door and count down from 5 in my head. I’m 96.3% sure that he has killed someone in his lifetime.

“What a weirdo.”

I’m watching some bootleg horror movie and I remember seeing a movie where this family went on vacation to a B&B. Ended up being that this perv hid cameras all over the house and before I could finish the thought, I jumped up. What if nothing was missing because nothing was stolen? Instead, something could have been planted. I turn off the tv and turn on all the lights. “I’ll start in the bathroom. Under the sink, behind the mirror, in the outlets, the light bulbs, nothing. “Ok.”

Kitchen... Outlets, lightbulbs, small appliances, big appliances, I stare. I didn’t expect to find anything. It feels better to think that I was rushing out this morning and didn’t close my door all the way.

I turn off all the lights and only have the living room lamp left. As I reach under the lampshade, I pause and turn to the bookshelf. In my peripheral something black. It stands out from the other books that I own. None are black and this is not mine. I try and pull the book out but halfway through, it gets stuck. I squint my eyes in confusion and before I can manage another thought, I hear a “click.” My shelves are moving, and dust is falling from the ceiling. “A secret room?”

The shelves have stopped moving and so have I. I guess this is what shock feels like. I look around the room in hopes that I’m not alone. I’m disappointed as I turn back. “Is this really happening right now?” I step in and the shelf closes faster than it opened. The walls are brick and there are shelves similar to the built-in bookshelf. Congested with vintage looking books, the smell of leather and ink is overwhelming. Looking for a way out, I don’t hesitate to start looking for an exit lever. I grab the biggest one and it doesn’t weigh a thing. I open it and its hollowed out with writing on the left page. I speak the words aloud:

“Name your price and you are free

You’ll have the life that captures thee

Sign your name for weak thy will

And change your fate by thoughts you spill”

Tucked in the hollowed-out part of the book is a blank check. But this is not your average check. It feels like wax paper and has no bank name anywhere on it. It has a gold trim and ragged edges as if it were torn out of a checkbook. I place the waxy check back in the book and continue my search for a lever. There’s one book left, and I know I’ve found it. “Click”. I am free.

“What the hell just happened?”

I’m clutching the biggest book as the shelf is closing behind me. I walk over to my sofa and sink in. I smile at the thought of this happening to me. Nothing like this ever happens to me! Once again, I read the writing in the biggest book and decide to take the chance. Pausing for a moment, I grab the pen from my side-table drawer and sign my name. I chuckle as I “Name my price” and write $20,000. It’s the first number I can think of. “It’s probably bullshit anyways…” The adrenaline has gone, and I’m flooded with exhaustion. I place the signed check on my coffee table and drift off to sleep.

All I see is black. There is a ball of static turning slowly in the darkness. I feel myself being pulled by it. It feels inevitable. As I get closer, I can see its face. Before I can get any closer, I’m startled awake. Opening my eyes proves to be worse. “What the hell?!” Its my apartment, only its filthy. There are dishes and clothes everywhere and that smell… What is that? There are eviction notices on the end table and syringes everywhere. I stagger to my feet and I’m sure that I have to throw up. My head feels heavy and I cannot see straight. I can feel my body getting cold. Stumbling toward the bathroom, I see a stack of money on the bookshelf. A moment of excitement and then I’m too sick to care. I look in the mirror and I don’t look the same. Its me but my eyes are sunken in and I look like I haven’t eaten in days. I start to cry uncontrollably. “I have to get out of here.” I’m in the lobby and I can hear John. There is no effort nor energy put into hiding from the secret love of my life. This has got be a nightmare and I know I need to be outside.

I walk… As far as my body allows. If I keep walking, I’ll eventually wake up. With every step, there are memories. Memories that are not mine. Flashes of nausea, flashes of someone else’s life. I feel every pain, every tragedy. The tears are blocking my vision and the nausea brings me to a halt. There’s a bus bench on the corner. All I can do is sit.

The sun is blazing in present time and when I close my eyes, I’m someone else. I know that I am me because my bus pass is still in my back pocket.

Every few seconds I glance at the street. Waiting for the bus to take me away from here. There’s a girl to my left side that’s staring at me in disgust. I can hear her say, “What a waste.” My eyes roll back again, and I hear the bus. I find the strength to lift my head, but as I do, I vomit. It’s warm as it falls and I whisper toward her, “help me...” but she rushes on the bus. All I can do is watch. I watch her through the window as she walks to her seat. She picks up a little black notebook and tosses it under her chair. I close my eyes and hear a “click” as the bus drives off, the bookshelf opens.