Arrival
Nothing really
seemed to make sense. The sounds and sights only came to me in waves, as if I
were moving in and out of consciousness. I looked up at the ceiling. White
ceiling tiles, just like the ones you see in the hospital. There were only a few things that I knew for
sure at this point; I was in a hospital, I wasn’t wearing my own clothes and I
don’t think anything was broken.
My vision was
blurry but I could make out that I had tubes feeding me some kind of fluids
into my right arm. I could hear beeping from the machine I was hooked up to and
muffled whispers. There was an indescribable pain in my side and in my stomach,
it felt as though someone had punched a hole right through me. Someone was
holding my left hand, I tried to turn my head toward them, to look and see who
it was but my head hurt so bad. It felt like a man’s touch. Whoever it was,
they cared enough to stay with me. I felt comforted for a moment. I closed my
eyes again to escape the pain. How did I get here? How did my life amount to this?
Was I dying? God, how did I get here? Did I do this to myself? Thinking back on
it now……
It all began
when I moved to a new city, seeking a fresh start…
I always wanted to move to a bigger
city. You could hear a pin drop in my little town outside of Madison, WI. It
was silent in comparison to Chicago. The traffic was congested; honking horns,
people yelling. The buildings climbed upward into the skyline further than I
could see. The lights seemed to change from green to red in only a fraction of
a second. No wonder I had already seen three accidents since I left the
airport. Moving to a new town is always difficult, especially one as big as
Chicago. It was scary and beautiful all at the same time.
The cab came to a screeching halt.
“Thirty five dollars ma’am,” said the cab driver.
“Ummm.” Fumbling through my purse, “here you go,”
He got out, grabbed my bags and threw them on the ground
then drove off. I tried to scoop up all my bags in one shot so I didn’t have to
make two trips. I stood in the corridor looking towards the top.
“This is gonna be awful! Six flights?” I began winding up
the stairs when an old man came wandering out from his apartment. There he
stood, in just his tighty whiteys holding his television remote. Looking quite
proud of himself, he stood there for a moment and smiled. Oddly enough, he
asked if I needed any help. I shook my head no and walked right past him. I was
a little surprised to see a nearly naked middle-aged man greeting me upon my
arrival.
I finally reached my
apartment, where there was a note on the door from the property owner.
It read:
Miss Venture,
Welcome! If you have any questions please feel free to call
me anytime if you have any questions or concerns. Rent is due the first of the
month no later………..
Well,
you get the point.
I set my other bag down and
tried to unlock the door.
“Aw, what the heck… wrong key?” I jiggled it a bit, it
finally gave way then swung open.
Not exactly my idea of home but nothing a little cleaning
and furniture couldn’t fix. I peered around the doorway to make sure I didn’t
have any unwanted guests. The property owner did imply that it had not been
rented in a while; oddly enough, I could smell the fresh paint on the walls.
The large bay windows in the living area really gave the
old place some life. I could already imagine myself sitting on the window bench
seat that over looked the city. The other rooms in the place were rather small
and dark. The wood floors creaked when you walked over them.
I found a clean spot on the old white kitchen tile counter
top to sit down. Next to me was a newspaper dated for yesterday, it must have
been left here from the painter yesterday.
“Perfect!” I turned to the employment section and began my
search. Just as I began scanning through there was a knock at the door. I
looked through the peephole to see who it was.
It was that old guy again, this time he was fully clothed. I decided it
was ok to open the door, seeing how he is properly dressed this time.
“Uh, hi! I’m Al. I just wanted to introduce myself; I’ve
been here for twenty years,” he said sheepishly.
Al was a middle-aged man, who was balding on the top of his
head. He was rather stout and disproportionate, he didn’t look as though he
took very good care of himself and his small glasses were tightly pressed
against his face. He seemed like a simple man, not very well dressed. Seeing
that he was approaching me in a more appropriate manner I put out my hand.
“I’m Rachael, I just moved here from Wisconsin,”
He shook my hand loosely but
with a smile.
“I do apologize for my behavior before. I knew someone was
moving in today… and I, I have not had a neighbor in a long while. That’s all,”
he stammered.
“Oh,
well it’s nice to meet you.” I wasn’t quite sure what to say to this little
man, who appeared to be a bit lonely.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your unpacking; I live
right down the hall. So, if you ever need anything just let me know,” he said
as he scanned the room behind me.
“Thanks,” I pushed out a weary smile.
I shut the door as he walked away, I locked it just in case.
It was a nice gesture but I don’t know anybody around here.
I went into my small bathroom and cleaned it vigorously.
The bathroom was rather bright, even though it did not have a window in it. The
bathtub itself was an antique, it was one of those old claw foot tubs, and I
absolutely loved it! It sat so carefully on four tiny little legs in the middle
of the bathroom. You could see where the tub had sat for many years before;
there were four large imprints in the floor beneath it.
I
looked in the mirror just to see how badly the day’s events had treated me. I
twisted my dark brown hair in a knot and pegged it to the top of my head.
Revealing how much my blonde highlights had grown out. I stood there studying
the darkened circles around my still, amazingly bright blue eyes. I looked down
at my dirty clothes from having traveled and moved all day and shook my head. I
tugged at the corner of my t-shirt that no longer fit my petite frame, as I had
lost ten pounds recently. My shoes looked tired and ready to make their home in
a nearby dumpster. My pants spattered with paint and car grease. I closed my
eyes for just a moment and thought about how good it feels to be in clean clothes.
Thus motivating me to hang in there a little longer, just enough to have a warm
bath.
I walked out into the living room and grabbed
the newspaper I had found and drew up a bath. Once I got in, I slid down the
wall of the tub into the water. I took a moment to be thankful that I made it
safely to Chicago. Even though I was having a moment of pure relaxation, the
noise outside wasn’t any bother. It was already becoming a sound of comfort.
Reminding me, I was at my new home. I was proud of myself for having decided to
move. My family thought I was a little crazy for driving down to Florida by myself,
now they just think I’m nuts! I didn’t really miss my quiet little town back
home, yet. I was sure I was going to miss my family at some point, but
Wisconsin isn’t very far away.
I sat back up so I could begin scanning the paper again.
Part time: days- website design, inquire by phone. Some
experience needed, portfolios preferred.
Perfect daytime job. “Circle
that. Now for night time.” Waitress: $2.45 plus tips. “Nope, not
enough,” Bartender: country club setting, $5.50 payroll. Spit tips. “No,
no, no… wait a minute.” Something caught my eye. Wanted: bartender, license
required. Ten dollars cash, plus tips. Fast paced Irish pub. The Closed door,
121 Division St. The closed door, I wonder why it’s called that? I hope
it’s not clubby, lines and V.I.P lists. I don’t want to deal with that. I
circled and stared it and threw the paper on the ground next to the tub. I slid
down the back of the tub again and soaked for what seemed like an eternity.
Before I knew it, I had transformed into what looked like an eighty-year-old
woman. I had more wrinkles than my grandma did. I quickly got out and threw on
my towel.
I walked over to the bay window that over looked the
street. My apartment looked like a shoebox compared to what I could see in the
distance. The Chicago skyline was amazing. Every building was covered in sheets
of glass and adorned with at least one tiny little red light on every rooftop.
Outside the streets were filled with busy people. I hadn’t really seen anything
like it. Madison was a busy place, but this was different. It was new.
It was the brink of spring; everything was finally turning
green again. Here everyone looked like they were in such a rush to get nowhere,
really. Maybe it was because I had nowhere to go, no one to meet. At least I
didn’t yet. It was so noisy compared to home. I always felt so restricted at
home, here there just looked like there is so much opportunity to be had. I had
big ideas in a little city and nowhere to go with them. I always had this
feeling that there was something else out there for me. Chicago stood out on
the map for me; something brought me here, I just had to figure out what it
was.
The breeze that came in through the windows was still a
little crisp. I was on my own for the first time in my life. Truthfully, I was
scared out of my mind, at the same time it was quite liberating. The massive
skyline in itself was quite intimidating. Yet, I was determined to have a life
on my own, make some new friends and just live. I have never lived on my own
before.
My mother always taught me to be careful. Look after your
drinks when you go out. Don’t give strangers your address. Having some good
common sense could come in handy when you don’t know anybody.
Whenever she and I
would go out for a drink, she would always comment on men staring at me, I
could not understand why. I don’t have a low self-esteem; I just don’t think
that I am any different from other women as far as looks are concerned. I stand
about five foot three, rather short if you ask me. About one hundred and
fifteen pounds, good enough size chest. Mom always insisted that the boob fairy
skipped her crib but not mine. I cannot help but laugh to myself thinking of
her saying this to me.
She always had told me I have a lot to offer a man; on the
other hand, there is a lot about me that would scare a man off. I guess its
intimidating meeting a woman like me. I can fix my own car; I know I’m
intelligent and I’m not painful on the eyes. I’m not arrogant or anything but,
I know I’m not hideous. In addition, considering I know more about cars than
most of the guys I dated, I would say it is intimidating. I go out on a first
date, he gets a flat, and I’m the first one hauling out the jack and the
doughnut tire? Tell me what is wrong with that picture? We’re not going out on
a second date! You should at least know how to change a tire or jump your car,
that’s standard man protocol.
Tomorrow I have to look my best, I have to dress to
impress. I’m getting up early to go out to find a job. It should not be too
hard considering I’m pretty much a jack-of-all-trades. If I’m trained well enough,
I can do most anything. I’m not sure yet, what I want, although that bartender
ad caught my eye. I’ve always thought about being a bartender; it would be a
great way to meet people and fast. I want to have some fun before I settle into
a career. It was time to get some rest. I had a long day of travel behind me
and a big day of job searching to do tomorrow.
I lie there encircled in this old familiar gray haze.
Unfortunately, this has been in my life long enough that it has come to be a
bit of a comfort blanket to me. I watch it dance in the little bit of moonlight
that is making its way through the big bay window. It’s my most disgusting
habit, when I’m nervous or maybe drinking. Come to think of it, I can find time
to smoke always. Cigarette after cigarette, I’m not a chain smoker or anything;
I’ve actually grown to hate the little things. You know what? They’re always
there. Where ever I go, if I’m alone or with people. As I lay there watching
this cloud of comfort waft across the room I come to realize how exhausted I
really should be. I’m not, I just can’t sleep knowing that just outside these
walls is a completely different world I do not know. My mind just will not shut
off, I am just too excited. I quickly swat my hand into the air to watch as the
cloud drifts away. I could stay up the rest of the night dreaming up elaborate
fantasies as to what great things this new city will bring into my life.
Instead, I have to opt to get some sleep and begin living it.
I awoke to find myself being able to begin a new day, in a
new world. Waking to silence would be like waking to find that you’ve struck it
rich overnight.
“What is that? What is that noise?” The awful noise shot me
clear out of bed.
I threw my window open and looked down toward the ground. Some
idiot drove his car into a pole hit several other cars and set the alarms off
on all of them.
“What a way to start out the
day,” I muttered to myself as I rifled through my bag looking for some job
friendly clothes.
I never was much for dress to impress. Not really a fashion
slave. My wardrobe consisted of expensive jeans; skate supportive t-shirts,
tank tops, a dress or two and board shoes.
“Eh, this’ll do,” throwing my selection on the air
mattress.
I walked quickly down the hallway, as not to be seen. Al
seemed as though he means well but I don’t think I’m ready to deal with him yet
today. I stepped outside and lit my first cigarette of the day. That was
usually the only cigarette I liked.
I walked to the corner where I had noticed a diner the day
before. Rosie’s café, it sounds quaint. I went in and sat down in the smoking
section along with every other paying customer in the entire restaurant. It
looked like a fifties diner. Over the speakers, I heard Buddy holly playing.
The floors hadn’t been re-done in probably fifty years. There were pieces of
the ceiling tiles that had been replaced, the rest were brown from all of the
smoke residue. The food sure did look good; I passed by a few people who had
already gotten their breakfasts. Sometimes these kinds of places were the best
to eat.
I looked over the menu, scrambled eggs, bacon, and white
toast. Something with caffeine, I thought to myself. A diet coke. Now, I’ll be
able to think on my toes, brain food. The waitress came over, took my order,
and walked away. I sat quietly looking out the window. Watching all the people
walking by. What an interesting city, huge skyscrapers. Constant honking of
horns, the occasional, “Hey, buddy, get outta the road!” Being shouted out of
some cabby’s window.
The waitress returned with my food, set it down in front of
me, and broke off my trance.
“Say, do you know where I could get a map? Jo?” I asked as
I glanced at her nametag.
“Actually, there is a 7- eleven across the street, he
should have maps there.”
“Well, where you looking to go? I might be able to give you
directions; I know this city like the back of my hand.” Jo offered.
I reached into my purse and grabbed out the ad from the
paper. “121 Division St. The Closed Door.”
Jo looked as though she had been running the waitress
circuit all of her life. The years were not kind to her, you could see in the
lines of time printed carefully all over her face. When she spoke, one would
get the idea that Jo smoked four packs of cigarettes a day. Her honey colored
hair was stricken with grey and white, tied back in a sloppy bun fashion. You
could see in her faded brown eyes that the woman had worked hard all of her
life and wanted nothing more than a break.
“Oh yea, sure. When you pay for your bill, I can write down
the directions…where ya from anyway honey?” Jo asked.
“Well, I just moved here yesterday from…” I began.
“Well, you don’t wanna go telling everybody that, they’ll
take ya for what yer worth,” she quickly interrupted. “I gotta go, my next
orders up, you see me for those directions before you leave and enjoy your
breakfast,” She spit out nearly in one breath.
I ate my breakfast and tried to picture what The Closed
Door was like; at this point, I did not want to leave anything to my
imagination.
