Amid the Recesses: A Short Story Collection of Fear (17 page)

“
Used to know the old
resident here. Crazy bitch, you know?” Matt said. “I live right
there.” He pointed back to the open door.

Jared’s eyes followed Matt’s finger.
The constant thumping of the music made Jared wince.

“
Why was she
crazy?”

“
I don’t know, man. She
just was.”

Jared thought Matt’s response was
typical of a young person—they knew everything about the world and
were too good to share the secret.

“
Well, I’m not crazy.”
Jared said. He tried to not sound defensive.

“
Hope not.” Matt looked at
the doorknob on Jared’s front door. “Anything weird about the
doorknob?”

Jared’s brow rose. “The
doorknob?”

“
The lady that lived here
used wrap a plastic bag around her hand before opening the door.
Told you—crazy, man.” Matt shook his head.

“
I heard she had a metal
allergy.” Jared stepped to the doorknob and examined it.
Normal.

Matt laughed. “Yeah. Whatever, man.
I’ll catch you later.”

Matt stepped around Jared. The smell
of pot wafted from Matt’s clothes. Jared made distance between Matt
and him. He stood in the threshold of the open door. Matt stepped
into his apartment and closed the door behind him. Jared glanced to
the doorknob again, turned it left then right, and then closed the
door.

Jared took care of the apartment
paperwork and moved in the few belongings he owned, mostly by
himself. As he brought in the large objects, like the bed and an
old Salvation Army couch, Matt was in the hallway and offered to
give him a hand to the beat of his usual anthem. The music made for
a productive mood, beating like a heart or the hammering of a nail.
The rhythm drove one foot in front of the other until he was moved
in. Matt observed the apartment. The apartment seemed weird to
Matt. Jared didn’t. The prior tenant had a metal allergy. A metal
allergy seemed impossible in the city, like an allergy to the
sun.

Jared thought the place could use a
little paint. He thought about HGTV and other “home” networks that
freshened up old places. Glamorous hosts would say, “A fresh coat
of neutral paint can make an old place look new!” Jared hoped so.
As he crammed the flat-head screwdriver beneath the lip of the
white paint’s lid, his phone rang. He stood, checked the number,
and tightened his grip on the screwdriver. Emily.

“
Hey.” Jared said after
reluctantly answering it.

“
Jared, it’s Emily.” A
chipper voice, a stark contrast to Jared’s these days,
answered.

“
I know, Emily. What’s up?”
He opened the paint can lid with the phone on his
shoulder.

“
I needed to ask you for
something. I was hoping you could help me out.” Emily
suggested.

Jared paused. He took a deep breath
and shook his head. “What do you want?”

“
Well...” She paused. “You
said that you were going to sign the car over to me. I need that
done soon. Like... tomorrow?” The question was a little more
reserved.

Jared looked at the paint. It wasn’t
white enough. “Can I ask why?” Confused by the sudden rush. They’d
only separated a week before.

“
Well...” She paused again.
“I was thinking that since we weren’t going to use the car for work
and I don’t need the space, I’d get something a little more
myself.”

“
A little more yourself?”
Jared thought for a minute if they made cars that broke hearts,
sequentially smashing them to bits with each push of a piston until
they’re ground into mince.

“
Can you do it or not?” She
spit out.

Jared was quiet for a minute, pouring
the paint into the paint tray. He rolled the paint roller back and
forth in the thick, white mess and made her wait. He wasn’t sure if
he wanted to just have her attention for a minute or if he didn’t
want to answer. Eventually, she chimed in.

“
Jared?” Emily
asked.

“
Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come by
and sign it tomorrow.” And he hung up the phone.

Jared painted into the night. He wiped
away scars on the old wall and tears from his face. The next day,
he felt closer to losing Emily. He loved and hated her. It felt
miserable caring. He stopped when the music from Matt’s apartment
did and he went to bed.

Jared placed his wedding ring on the
small nightstand next to his bed and stared at it. He thought about
his five years with Emily and about their happiness. His life went
to hell. He remembered Emily confessing that she didn’t the
marriage anymore. The confession was sudden and inexplicable. She
“wasn’t ready” after five years of commitment, and she “felt like
life was passing her by.” Clichés. Jared could do nothing but think
that whatever was wrong was something she wasn’t telling the truth
about. The truth didn’t come in the face of divorce. Jared felt
like he deserved an explanation. Instead, he stared at the ring
that once shined with the promise of eternity. Jared saw tarnished
metal and he thought of the scarred walls beneath the coat of white
paint.

The next day’s sun came despite it
all. Jared woke and rubbed his eyes, but pulled his hand sharply
from his face as he felt a sting while curling his fingers. He
examined the rash on his hand and his palm and fingers. The rash
was worst around his ring finger. He looked to his nightstand and
noticed his ring was missing.

Jared leaped out of bed and
rushed into the living room. He checked the locks and they were
fine. He reviewed the windows and everything seemed fine. Jared
returned to the room, but paused near the bathroom. He noticed his
ring sitting on the floor near the vanity cabinet. He approached
the bathroom and peeked around the corner of the door’s threshold
before entering. He leaned down, finding his ring in the same
strange liquid he’d remembered from the mirror. Jared shook his
head, looking around the bathroom for any sign of what could have
happened. He shifted and looked back into the room, where his bed
and nightstand sat. “Did I knock it off?” He asked himself.
Maybe it just rolled in,
he thought. He looked for liquid’s source, but there was no
sign of moisture. Jared curled the ring into his hand and took it
back into the room with him. He dressed and put the ring into his
pocket.

Later that day, Jared made it out to
the old house where Emily and Jared spent their time together. It’s
where they fell apart. Jared sat across from Emily at the table
while she signed documents. Jared imagined the breakfasts they’d
have at the table. He thought about when he’d cook if she worked
early or she’d cook if he did. They’d laugh and smile, share
stories and hopes for the day. Thinking about those days put a
smile on his face.

“
Alright, you just need to
sign here and here.” Emily pointed to two different places on the
long, complicated document. Jared signed. He signed away as he did
with the house and everything else he didn’t want. It was something
he thought he could do to show her how much he cared, to give her
everything that he had. Jared wanted Emily to see that. She didn’t.
Emily went through the documentation without skipping a beat. Her
disconnection confused him.

Emily took the papers and nodded.
“Thank you, Jared. I know this is hard for you.”

“
Is it hard for you?” He
asked.

Emily held the papers in front of her
chest like a shield made to repel Jared’s question. “Of course it’s
hard for me. I wish you understood.”

”
I wish I did, too.” He
replied. He looked down to the empty table. No eggs. No bacon. No
pancakes. No coffee. Nothing they loved.

“
What happened to your
hand?” Emily asked.

Jared shrugged. He lifted his red hand
and looked it over. “I don’t know.” His eyes focused on the red
ring around his finger where his ring was the day before. The mark
there was significantly worse than the irritation on his palm, and
he couldn’t help but think of the woman and her metal allergy. The
worst of the rash resembled the ring.

Jared stood and pulled his coat back
over his arms and back. “Anything else?”

“
No. No, that’s all. I hope
you feel better.” Emily said from behind her paper
shield.

Jared nodded. He stepped to the door.
He looked down to the doorknob and used his left hand instead of
his right to turn it and push his way out.

Jared returned to the old apartment
after a stop at the grocery store. He picked canned beans and
frozen vegetables to hold him over. Instead of the elevator, he
took the stairs. He was certain it was only a matter of time before
the elevator decided to become a death-trap with the way things
were maintained here. Jared returned to the rhythmic thump once he
reached the fourth floor and Matt popped out as Jared passed his
door, as if he had been waiting.

“
Hey, man.” Matt
said.

Jared halted for a moment to see if
Matt would say anything else. Matt was dressed the same. He either
hadn’t showered or put on the same clothes as the day before.
“Hey.” Jared said.

“
Just thought I’d let you
know that some maintenance guys were coming through the building
earlier. Stopped by my place, think they might have went into
yours, too.” Matt said, leaning against the threshold of his open
door, his words nearly inaudible behind the blaring
beat.

Jared’s eyes squinted as the sound
seemed overwhelming with the door open, and brought him to wonder
how Matt could endure it all day long. “Aren’t they supposed to
notify me beforehand or something?” A reasonable question, he
thought.

“
They’re supposed to do a
lot of things, dude. Have you seen this place?” Matt laughed, red
eyed narrowed in a strange surveying of Jared as he stood in the
hallway, holding his two grocery bags. He continued, “You bring
those so you can open your door, man?” Pointing to the bags. He
laughed.

Jared looked down at the bag of canned
goods and shook his head. “No, I’m going to use these to stay
alive. Thanks for the suggestion, though.” Jared headed toward his
door down the hall. Matt remained in his wake, bopping his head to
the rhythm. Jared stood in front of the door and stared at the
doorknob. Before turning it, Jared looked over his shoulder to see
if Matt was still watching, and he was. Matt’s head and neck
stiffened and revealed his attentiveness. Jared shook his head and
turned the knob with his right hand and pressed into the apartment.
He closed the door behind him.

Jared placed the groceries on the
counter partition between the living area and the kitchen. Open
windows aired out the room and allowed light to cast
inside.

Long streaks in the fresh paint were
missing, revealing the nasty, discolored paint below. Jared shook
his head in disbelief before he examined the room. Similar streaks
of missing paint were everywhere. “You have to be kidding me.” He
crouched beside the wall and examined one of the wall’s streaks. It
smelled of mold with a viscous residue coating. Jared stood and
looked around the room for a source. A clanking sound came from the
kitchen sink. He spun toward the sound. Nothing obvious. He moved
across the room and pulled the cabinets below the sink open.
Nothing. He stood. “Rats?”

As Jared put away his groceries, he
considered the maintenance personnel Matt mentioned were
responsible for the damaged walls. He considered that they may have
been careless while working. He decided not to worry. Emily stayed
on his mind.

That night, Jared repainted the
damaged spots on the wall. He made it right. He assembled the
dishes in the house in the sink and began washing them quietly, or
as quietly as he could, with the sound of Matt’s music in the
background. Through the horde of bubbles and water, Jared could see
his bare hand, stinging slightly from the irritation. Again, he
thought of Emily. He thought of how badly he wished he could turn
everything around. He thought of how he wished that she wasn’t
systematically removing him from her life, and wished he wasn’t
systematically going with it. He wanted a life with her, like the
one he shared with her in those five years. He wanted to know what
changed in her.

As Jared finished the dishes and dried
his hands, he stood over the sink and stared into the empty basin.
His shoved a hand into his pocket and pulled out his wedding ring.
Slowly he slipped it over the crest of his finger, but he paused,
feeling the pain start to kick in, especially with how tightly the
ring fit. He took a deep breath, and as soon as he prepared to push
the ring down onto his finger, there was a knocking on the door
that startled him. The ring that was prepared to move back onto
Jared’s finger slipped from him entirely and first fell into the
sink, then rolled, despite Jared’s efforts to stop it, right down
the drain.

“
No! Damn it!” He
scrambled, trying to reach into the drain as much as he could, but
his hand was too large to fit. The knocking came again. Jared
pulled open the cabinets beneath the sink and stared at the pipes.
The trap, he thought, would have stopped it. He’d just have to find
a way to get it out. The knocking came again. “I’m coming!” He
yelled, frustrated. Jared rose from the open cabinets and stepped
to the door.