Jack's New Apartment

(continued)

By Zenobia Rose Love

Then, the apartment was left lonely and alone for nearly six months. In 1987, Mrs. Pillai moved in. Mrs. Pillai was seventy-five and had been thinking about moving back into town. Her daughter, Miss Shanna Pillai, lived on the third floor. When Shanna noticed that Jack's new apartment was empty, she suggested (after much contemplation and even against her better judgment) that her mother take it. Mrs. Pillai agreed. At first Shanna was a bit annoyed with her mother's constant visits. But after a couple of years Mrs. Pillai became too weak to climb the two flights of steps up to her daughter's apartment, and Shanna became glad that she was so close to her mother.

During this period of time, childhood memories pecked at Shanna's brain like seagulls pecking at scavenged scraps of food. All Shanna could think about was being ten and sick with a stomach virus. She was in bed for three days, and she couldn't stop throwing up. Shanna was scared, but her mother was strong and bossy and was always there by Shanna's bed, ready to hold back her hair when she puked into a bucket on the floor. And even when her mother wasn't close by, all Shanna had to do was whisper or think real hard, and her mother would come.

Shanna would never forgive herself for not being able to hear her mother from the third floor. What kind of daughter was she? As her mother's illness got progressively worse, Shanna's jet-black hair started to gray. After three years of sickness, Shanna's hair was completely gray. When Shanna's mother passed away, she left a patchwork quilt in the closet of Jack's new apartment.

 

1994

The apartment was new. To him. Jack had been living there for about two weeks. Jack liked his new apartment. It was comfortable, conveniently located, and well lit. Jack was on his way home, thinking of his new second-hand couch and the nap he would soon be able to enjoy on it. When he reached his building, he sprinted up the front stoop and proceeded to check his mail.

There was a woman standing in front of Jack's door. Jack could only see her from behind. She was short with a small torso, wide hips, and a large round butt. Her hair was shoulder length and very precisely cut. It was grayish-black and white. She raised her fist and aimed it at Jack's door, but she did not knock.

"Hey," Jack said. "I'm not in."

"Oh!" she said, turning around and facing Jack. She had dark brown eyes, sad and surprised. He mouth was small, but her lips were full and red. She did not smile.

"My name's Jack," he said. "What's up?"

"Nothing," she said.

"No, I mean, can I help you?"

"Oh. Well, my name is Shanna Pillai."

"I'm Jack," Jack said needlessly. Then, after a pause: "Didn't you live here before me?"

"No, I live upstairs. My mother used to live here."

"Oh! Nice to meet you."

Jack stuck out his hand, and Shanna lightly touched his fingertips, then quickly dropped her hand to her side. Jack was feeling awkward, partly because he didn't know what to do or say. His door was locked, so he unlocked it and walked in. Now inside the safety of his new apartment, Jack was ready to face Shanna, who was still standing at his threshold.

"Hey!" Jack said, with relief in his voice. "I bet I know why you're here. That blanket I found here must belong to your mom. It's blue, right? Come in."

Shanna's stony expression did not change, and she did not speak. She stepped over Jack's doorstop, than made one more step into the room. There she stopped, silent and still, looking at Jack's new apartment.

Jack closed the door.

"I'll find it. Sit down. This is a new couch — kind of. Someone gave it to me. Found it online, but it's clean."

Shanna sat. "Is this an ashtray?" Shanna asked.

"Yeah, sure," Jack said.

"So that means I can smoke," Shanna said, but not really to Jack. Soon she was puffing loudly on her Parliament Light.

Jack decided not to tell Shanna that the ashtray was placed there by his mother, but solely for decorative purposes. He went to find the blanket.

"Here you go," he said when he was finally able to place the blanket in Shanna's lap. "It's a beautiful blanket. Where'd you get it?"

Shanna pressed the blanket to her face. This was a very old blanket. Faint scents brought back memories of being a toddler.

"My mother made it."