Tuesday, July 26, 2011

The closed door

It was an early autumn morning when she headed to join the military convoy. An hour later she was climbing the stairs up to the fourth floor in one of the residential buildings. She finally reached the familiar door panting. It had been months since she last climbed them. Her hand hovered over the doorbell for a couple of long minutes. Was that the sound of footsteps on the other side? And then the sweat, an old traitor, started breaking through. That was it. She gave up and went back down the stairs to the second floor. She stopped before another familiar door and this time it was a little easier to make a buzz. The woman who opened it couldn’t hide the surprise. It was all over her round moon-shaped face. She muttered a few how, when, whats but overall was glad to see her. That was a relief. They sat down together for a brief chat but there was not much time to lose. She kindly asked the woman to phone the fourth floor neighbours to check  if they would mind if she dropped by shortly. That seemed like a better idea to her. Not to catch them by surprise. If they refused, it wouldn’t hurt as much. Anyway, the woman reported that they didn’t mind at all. And up she went again.

Two people let her in - a man and a woman approximately her age. They were both very nice. They invited her to sit down and have another coffee with them. She could hardly swallow but didn’t want to be rude. She sat down stiff on a sofa she had picked herself a few years earlier. She fought hard to win over another living room set her husband liked better. They quarreled a lot about it and drove each other mad, as well as the delivery men who carried first one and then the other heavy bunch of furniture up and down that same staircase. The two of them waged a little war about it and in the end she won. However, that day she didn't feel exactly like a winner should.

She had a quick glance at her watch and again explained that she had only a little time left before going back to the convoy. She asked if she could pick up a few pieces of clothes from her and her children’s wardrobe. The winter was coming. There were also a couple of diplomas, birth certificates and a few childish things her daughter missed very much. The people encouraged her to take whatever she wanted and so she went to the bedrooms to see what would be most necessary to pack. The woman followed her like a shadow. It made her feel wired, a little bit like a thief or a beggar. The familiar wardrobes had some unfamiliar clothes in it and the woman probably wanted to make sure that she didn’t take what was not hers. Everything was in together. What was it that she wanted to take? It was hard to concentrate.

She finished quickly and just before leaving they invited her to have lunch with them. The very thought of it made her stomach  turn. She tried to refuse politely but they insisted. And one by one, the table was covered with familiar pots, plates, knives and forks. No, it wasn’t a twilight zone, yet the objects kept staring back at her. She was kindly told to help herself.  She tried to force a few bites down the throat but they just kept coming back. Even the tranquillizers she drank that morning couldn’t help much in finishing it. She suddenly found it unbearable to stay any minute longer. She thanked them a lot for a nice meal, picked up her plastic bags and headed towards the door. And again it closed behind her. A new name plate was on it.