The Package

            by Jonathan Guerra

 

            James knocks on his neighbor’s door and waits, his heart racing. He knocks one more time, and then pushes at the door to find it unlocked. He peers inside. The apartment looks very much like his own—though all the apartments in this building are awfully similar—but it has a warmer livelier feel. James walks inside. What’s that sound? It’s the shower running. This is a perfect opportunity to search for his package. He closes the front door behind him, his heart skipping a beat as the latch clicks shut.

#

He reaches back and, without needing to look, grabs a bottle of Calvin Klein Eternity. James has been working in the women’s perfume department of Stockman’s for twenty-three years. Everyone who shops here knows him by name, but remembering the names of his regulars was a thing he’d given up on in the third month of his job. All the faces bled together into one. For reasons he can’t quite explain, though, he’s kept the phone numbers of everyone who’s ever bought perfume from him.. They cram the drawer next to his bed. He had always wondered what would happen if he decided to call one, but he’s never done it. “Thanks, James.” The dark-haired lady and her daughter smile at him. James smiles back and nods.

            Every day James gets out of bed and goes to work. Every night, he goes straight home. After twenty-three years his job pays well enough to let him live nicely. He has come to rely on his job, working overtime just because he can. His boss has taken a shine to him and appointed him as head of department. He has shown such reliability and dedication over the years that he had secured his promotion within the first two years of employment.

            For James, appearance is everything. He wears the finest clothes and shoes. He keeps his hair short and trims it once a month. His barber knows exactly what day he comes in. “James, there you are! I got the chair all ready for you. The usual, I presume?” His hands are perfectly manicured, and he always eats at the same restaurant.

            James keeps to himself. He imagines that’s what people like about him. He is a mystery; there is a ten-year-old pool among the employees at the store to see who would be the first person to see his apartment.

But if they saw his apartment they would be severely disappointed. He lives in an apartment building—on the 11^th floor, the perfect place to live if you don’t want to be found.  The apartment is ordinary enough, but without a speck of dust anywhere. If you ever ventured past the leather couches and big screen TV, past the spotless kitchen and into the master bedroom, you’d find a dresser. Behind the dresser is a cubby hole big enough to crawl into, a secret room beyond the reach of the outside world. It is a world in itself, James’ silent, solitary paradise. This is where the real James lives, every few weekends, month after month, year after year, burning spoons black beyond recognition.

            It’s Friday. James gets into his car and drives home. Friday night is the culmination of his week. Every few Friday’s James receives a package. He leaves a check at the main desk and picks the package up when he comes home.

“Hey, James, how’s it going?” It’s Francisco, the Security Guard. “The delivery guy came by with your meds today, but didn’t leave the package with me. He went up to your apartment to look for you, but I guess you worked overtime today, huh? He must have been new ‘cause it wasn’t that usual guy. He said he’d prolly leave your meds by your door.”

            James thanks him and gets on the elevator and presses the button for the eleventh floor with great anticipation. He desperately needs this fix. It has been 3 weeks since his last binge. It was always 3 weeks. These weekends are completely consumed by his drug. He never leaves the apartment, not even to eat. He can’t leave. It’s his paradise.

            James walks down the hallway to his apartment to look for his package. It isn’t there.

            It’s inside, James thinks. After all, the manager said he left it in my apartment.

            James opens the door and goes inside. He checks by the door. He checks in the kitchen, on the counters and on the table, under the table. He even checks in his secret room. He can’t find his package.

I’m sure it’s here somewhere. He told me the guy left it at my apartment? Maybe my neighbor saw it. Yea, that’s it. My neighbor saw it and didn’t want it to get lost and took it inside for safekeeping. I’ll just go ask them.

            James knocks. A young woman with short dark hair comes to the door and gives him a puzzled look. He has never met his neighbors. He comes home late and never runs into the people who live on his floor.

            “Can I help you?”

            “Yes, you can. Did you see a package out here?”

            “I’m sorry, who are you?”

            “Oh, how impolite of me. My name is James. I live next door.”

            “Oh, it’s nice to finally meet you! I always wondered who our neighbors were. I’m always so shy about introducing myself, my name is--”

            “So you haven’t seen the package?”

            “Oh, um, no sorry I haven’t. Did someone drop it off?”

            “Yes, they did, it’s very important to me. So you’re sure you haven’t seen it?”

            “No, I’m sorry, but I hope you find it.”

            James scrambles back to his apartment and resumes his rampant search. Panic. This is a new feeling for James, a feeling he hasn't felt in years. His heart rate is elevated and his chest tingles. He’s always been in control of his life.

            James takes off his jacket and sits on the couch. It feels like forever since he’s sat on his couch. He doesn’t do it often because it spoils the new couch feeling.

            Where is it? He can feel his body begging for relief. I know it’s here somewhere. That lady next door, she asked me if someone dropped it off. How would she know someone dropped it off? I didn’t say anything about it to her. She knows where it is. I know it. There’s something she’s not telling me. What if she opened it and saw what was inside? That’s why she wouldn’t tell me about it! She has my package!

            He knows she lied to him. He hurries down the hallway, going over what he’ll say to her but he not quite sure how he to approach her. All he knows is that he needs his package.

#

            James stands just inside the young woman’s apartment, hoping that the noise made by the door has not been heard. He hasn’t a clue where to start looking, he has no plan in mind, he just hopes that he can get in and out without being noticed. He sees a pile of old letters sitting on a coffee table in the living room. He creeps over and starts rummaging under a pile of various bank statements, and credit card bills. No sign of his package. He looks behind the couch. Still nothing. He moves through the room towards the kitchen, crouched over, trying to move as quickly and quietly as he can. James knows that if his neighbor gets out of the shower he’ll have to get out fast.

            James moves to the kitchen. He looks on the fridge, and notices all the pictures of what seems to be his neighbor and her boyfriend, pictures of them sitting in a park laughing, pictures at Christmas and what seems to be New Year’s. There are pictures of their families all sitting together at a long table. James looks at the pictures in disgust.

 

How could such a lair have so many people close to her? Don’t they know how she is? She’s probably lied to all of them. She doesn’t deserve that kind of unconditional love.

            He moves on past the kitchen and into the main hallway. The door to the bedroom is just beyond the bathroom. James gets on his and knees to move past the bathroom door. He hears his neighbor stirring in the shower. James tries to make the least amount of noise possible. Every time he sets his hands down the noise seems to echo in the hallway. He knows he’s wasting precious time by moving so slowly, but if he makes any noise at all, he will have come all this way for nothing. He can’t let his neighbor know of his presence.

            James gets to the bedroom and stands up. The noise of his pants rustling makes him freeze. He slowly swings the door, not shutting it all the way so he can hear her in the shower.

            How am I supposed to find it in this mess? It’s probably under all of these clothes. There’s a dresser—maybe it’s in there. Man, there’s so much stuff in here! No way I can look through it all. She has a closet too. It could be anywhere!

            He tosses clothes to the side. He looks under the bed. He starts to panic. He pulls out drawers and sifts through them. He hand is on the handle of the closet door when he hears the shower turn off. James darts into the closet and shuts the door behind him.

            He can hear his neighbor pushing aside the shower curtain and move around in the bathroom. He puts his ear up against the door to listen closely. He hears her walk into the bedroom. With his head pressed to the door, he hears her move about. He hears her take off her towel and move around looking for something to wear. The footsteps travel to the other side of the room and stop. He listens for a while, trying to decide what is happening. He hears her close a dresser drawer, and realizes he left them open when he slipped into the closet.

            Does she know I’m here?

            He hears her walk towards the closet . . . and stop. James stops breathing. There is a long silence. Then he hears the handle of the closet door begin to turn. Time stops.

I’ve got to get out!

            James puts his full body weight into the door, slamming it into the woman. It hits her and she stumbles back in shock. She looks at James and shrieks. She is standing there in her underwear, a glass bottle in one hand.

            She’s screaming. James grabs her and covers her mouth with his hand. She recoils and hits James in the face with the bottle. It sends pain searing through his whole body.

            His neighbor’s struggles topple them over onto the bed. She bites his hand, yelling for help.  James grabs a pillow to stifle the screams and puts his whole weight into holding it over her face.

            Shut up! Stop it! Stop struggling. You need to stop. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up Please stop. Please.

James lifts the pillow from the face of the lifeless body, her eyes glazed over like vast body of water. He looks into them in horror. He stares off into the horizon seeing nothing but the blue water. Her hair still wet. Face still warm.

            James staggers back, his head bleeding from the bottle. He puts his back on the wall and slides down, his veins still surging with adrenaline. His hands are shaking as he rubs them. He sits there staring at the body. The body of a girl he doesn’t even know the name of.

 

            What was she? 30? No. Not even 30.

 

            James gets up. The urges in his body were telling him to keep looking for his package. His eyes flood as he continues to rummage through her things. He picks up her wallet from the top of her dresser and opens it. Her name is Annie. James stares at the name and it burns an imprint in his mind. He never cared for names and now he will hold this in his mind until he himself dies.

            James spends hours looking trough Annie’s things, but to no avail. James gets up and goes back to his apartment. He walks down the hallway, towards his door, and he sees something. He can’t make it out at first because his eyes were blurry, part from being up all night and part from crying.

Sitting by his door was a small brown package. James runs over to it and picks it up. He walks into his apartment in a state of shock, in past his living room and past his kitchen, pushes aside his bookcase and crawls into his room. He never once takes his eyes off of the package. He sits in his room and stares at the package. James puts his hands to his face and begins to cry. Not out of sorrow but out of self pity. He had gone through so much and all for nothing. All he wanted to do was escape.

What have I done? Is it all for this? The whole time I was wrong. She never lied to me. What have I become? I’ve let this take me over. I’ve become a monster. I’m no different than those people I see on the news. I don’t want to be this way. What have I done?

            James stares at the package. Never before had James felt alone. But at this moment the feeling sweeps through him, taking him by storm. James looks at his life from a perspective outside of his own life. And he sees that through his addiction he was slowly destroying all he ever cared about, knowing that it is just a matter of time before all that he’s worked for all that he’s put his life into will vanish.

James watched himself put his fingers under the tape of his package and pry it open. His heart saw the wrong in giving in to his addiction. But He needed to escape one last time.

#

            James’s name appeared on news broadcasts throughout the country. The bizarre murder had an end even more bizarre end. Annie’s killer was found in his apartment, in a room carved into the wall. In what seemed to be an apparent suicide overdose.