The Yellow Suitcase

by L. W. Clark

  “Beer? Really? Who drinks a beer when they want to meet a guy?” I joked.

  “Why? What’s wrong with beer?”

  “It’s just not sexy.”

  Just then the bar got crowded. All sorts of guys and girls came flowing in. It was like they were coming in after clubbing, to continue the fun with more drinks and food.

  “You girls came in just at the right time to get a seat,” the bartender told us.

  We hung out for another hour and had another round, but no one hit on us. Maybe I looked tired and boring, and Silvia was trying too hard. We paid the check and left.

  “We had no luck meeting anyone, even though there were so many guys there,” she said as we walked to the subway.

  “I told you not to drink beer,” I said. “And you even had a second one!”

  We laughed so loud, people were staring at us. I told Silvia about the mother and daughter I sat next to on the way to Brooklyn and we laughed even more. We had one of the best times on the way home. Between the laughing and joking we became so hyper we weren’t able to go to sleep until sunrise.

  The gin and tonics and late night hit me hard. I stayed in bed and slept all day. I was so exhausted I couldn’t even open my eyes. I missed my trip to the city. I wasn’t happy about that since it was my first day off in a while. But my body couldn’t respond to my brain.

  On the way back to Long Island, I realized I was in a much better place. I felt happier, calmer. Perhaps because I got used to my new life. I was close to paying off my loan, I was speaking better English, and I was able to get around the city with relative ease. I still had so much more to learn but I was getting there. Things were good.

  I was really happy to see Kalian. I felt relieved from the pressure of taking care of the kids. Babysitting is an enormous responsibility. Just watching them made me exhausted. If anything happened to them, I was the one responsible. No matter what it was. They’re not like a piece of furniture or lamp that you break and can just replace. I never wanted to take care of the kids. It’s too much. But my relief didn’t last long.

  “Alyssa, we’re going to the city this weekend,” Anna said.

  The good news is I’ll be in the city. The bad news is, no Kalian. I have to take care of the kids—again.

  “When we get there would you mind cleaning the rooftop area? It’s pretty messed up from the winter and it would be nice to get it in shape since we’re having guests over.”

  “Sure, no problem,” I said.

  The infamous rooftop, where I had one of my great adventures.

  “Anna, would you please help me fill out the application for a student visa? My latest visa will expire soon so I need to re-apply. This way I can stay and continue working.”

  I took advantage of asking for a favor since I had been extremely helpful to her over the last few weeks. I was proud to step up for myself.

  “Of course,” she said. “Remind me when we get in the city.”

  “OK, thanks,” I said.

  We made our way to the city and I went straight to the rooftop. Standing and looking around reminded me of that crazy night. I just looked and stared once again at the beautiful townhouse.

  I’ll never forget naked man. If not for him who knows what would’ve happened to me. I can’t see him. But I remember him well. His face and … other stuff like … he had a nice robe.

  I spent quite a lot of time on the roof, cleaning and organizing the place. Now and then I’d look into naked man’s windows, but I never saw him. Anna, Michael and their guests were having drinks and dinner on the rooftop while I was in the apartment with the kids. Anna asked me to come up to help out. While there I peeked at the townhouse. It seemed like someone was home because the light was on.

  In the early evening the guests left. Anna and Michael went to bed. Everyone started sleeping as I went up and down the stairs to clean up. On one trip I noticed another light on in naked man’s townhouse. I went closer.

  Not that I want to see him naked or anything. Well, maybe I do. I just want to see him. But I guess he’s not around.

  In the morning I went to the corner grocery store to buy milk, and there he was. Naked man. I recognized him right away. He was getting a newspaper and a cup of coffee. I felt a little shy to approach him. Maybe it was inappropriate, especially early in the morning. Some people want time alone until they have their coffee. I’m like that.

  I grabbed the milk and got in line to pay. He must’ve sensed me staring at him because it wasn’t long before he turned his head and looked at me. I quickly looked away. When he passed me on the way out, he looked at me again.

  I think he recognizes me.

  “Hello,” I said.

  He stopped, confused and pensive.

  “Hello,” he said. “Have we met before? You look familiar but I don’t remember from where.”

  I can feel my face.

  “Yes, we’ve met. I’m the girl you helped. On the rooftop? From the building, right next door?”

  “Oh, that’s right,” he said. “Now I remember. You look different.”

  “That’s probably because I’m not freaking out. You really helped me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. Thank you again.”

  “Do you live around here?”

  “No, I work for the owners of the house next to yours. Most of the time I’m with them on Long Island, but sometimes we come into the city.”

  “I see. Well, it’s nice to see you again. Next time you’re in trouble just give me a call,” he said, smiling.

  “Thanks, but I hope I don’t have to,” I smiled back.

  He laughed.

  “Well, have a nice day,” I said.

  “See you later.”

  “Bye.”

  I don’t know why but I was happy to see him. We never introduced ourselves, so he was still naked man to me, even with his clothes on. I started walking back to the apartment.

  What did he mean by see you later? Did he mean that he might see me on the rooftop later? Or did he want to see me later in person? If that was an invite, I feel bad since I didn’t respond. But I can’t see him later anyway.

  We went back to Long Island on Sunday night. On my day off I worked at Peter’s. That “see you later” comment was still on my mind. I couldn’t understand why what naked man said was so important to me.

  “Peter, when someone says, ‘see you later,’ do they mean they want to see you later?” I asked.

  “Well, it depends,” he said. “If they ask a question like ‘see you later?’, they’re asking if you’ll meet up later. If they say, ‘see you later,’ it’s usually just another way of saying goodbye.”

  Well that’s good. At least I wasn’t rude to naked man, especially after everything he did for me. I really wish I knew his name.

  TWENTY

  The next day Anna announced we were going back to the city again on Friday for the weekend. I was getting frustrated about taking care of the kids, but I was also super happy going back to Manhattan. I wanted to see naked man again. Just the thought of seeing him made me happy. Just a one-minute conversation made me think of him now and then.

  It’s probably silly of me but he seems like an interesting person. He looked fashionable and handsome. Maybe his style attracts me? I remember the entire outfit he was wearing in the grocery. I looked him up and down so quickly he didn’t even notice.

  He was wearing soft, dark grey pants that were a little baggy. A light gray long sleeve sweater, with a patterned dark blue scarf around his neck. He was also wearing reading glasses. When he stopped to talk, he took off his glasses, and I noticed his eyes were greenish grey. His hair was dark but greying.

  Anna and Michael were going shopping during the day on Friday, and they planned to attend some dinner event in the evening. I asked them if I could take the kids to the rooftop to play and they both said no. They were afraid Jessica might run around and get hurt, so I was stuck in the apartment.

  While I put the kid
s in for a nap, I thought about going to the rooftop. I wanted to go and look around and get some air and hear the noise. But there was another reason, which I didn’t want to admit to myself.

  OK. I wanted to see the townhouse and if he was around. I went upstairs. This time I made sure the door was unlocked. I stepped out and took a deep breath. I missed the city. I missed walking around the last couple of weeks on my day off. I looked at the townhouse but couldn’t see anyone. I stayed there for a while, looking into every single window. But no one was there. I went back inside to check on the kids. They were sleeping peacefully. I went right back upstairs and looked around once again. I looked out onto the city. It looked so beautiful, as always. I looked back at the townhouse. I noticed some empty bottles and boxes on his balcony.

  Looks like he had a party last night. Why isn’t he home? Where is he now? Maybe at work? Maybe he’s not even in the city. I’m so silly, thinking about some old guy and wondering where he is or what he’s doing.

  I went back inside and didn’t return to the roof. I dialed Silvia to chat.

  “You know,” she said. “Jeff has called a few times.”

  I have no desire to call him and hear his hyper-fast talk. I’m just not attracted to him.

  “Again?” I asked.

  “Well, if you’re not going to call him back, maybe I will,” she joked.

  “Be my guest,” I laughed.

  On Sunday I had some chores to do before we left for Long Island. I took the umbrella downstairs from the roof. I didn’t look at his townhouse once while I was working. I thought I was being ridiculous, looking into his house all the time. Now it seemed rather pointless.

  In the city I had the additional job of a gardener. No extra pay for that either. So, I went back up to water the flowers. I was still thinking it was silly to look over at his place, but I did it anyway, and I saw him.

  I saw him in the same room as the first time. I was trying to force my eyes to look away and continue to work, but my heart forced my eyes to stubbornly stare at him. He was standing by the bookshelf. I couldn’t figure out what he was doing. I saw him but he didn’t see me.

  I’m not going anywhere until he sees me. I want him to see me. Come on naked man, look over here. He’s turning around. Damn, he’s not looking out the window. Maybe I should throw something at his window. You know? To get his attention? But what if I break it?

  I laughed out loud. He left the room and I left the corner where I was standing. I started watering the flowers. I finished up and checked around the rooftop to make sure I didn’t leave anything behind. As I looked around, I saw him on the balcony. He was just standing there, holding a rolled-up magazine in his hand, staring at me. When he saw me look at him, he smiled and waved.

  “How are you,” he said.

  I felt so nervous and excited. I approached the rooftop edge and smiled. He climbed down from his balcony, crossed the rooftop between us and came close to the wall where I was standing.

  “Hi there, my name is Gilles.”

  “I’m Alyssa.”

  “What do you say about getting together for coffee one day? Next time you’re around?”

  “I’m never available when I’m around.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, can I call you sometime? So, we can talk?”

  “I … I … don’t know. Well, OK, but I’d prefer to call you, when I have some free time.”

  I don’t know why I said that.

  “OK,” he said, and he told me his phone number.

  “Please call me when you can. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

  I didn’t have a pad or pen, so I had to memorize his number. We said goodbye and I ran into the house as I kept repeating the number. I ran past Anna and the kids in the kitchen, completely ignoring them, and into the kid’s room where I found a pen but no paper. I wrote the number on my palm, so no one would see it. When I came out Anna stared at me.

  “Are you OK?” she asked.

  “Yes, yes. I’m fine. Just a small emergency,” I smiled.

  She smiled and rolled her eyes. I was really careful with my palm, all the way home. I wanted to call him, but I just couldn’t do it. Over the next few days, every time I’d find the time and prepare myself to make the call, I’d stop. I’d grab the phone to dial and then put it back. I thought if I heard his voice, I’d become nervous, which would cause me to get confused, which might confuse him.

  Damn, I wish I told him to call me instead of me calling him. After all, he’s the guy. Aren’t the guys supposed to call the girls? I know. I’ll call him on a weekday during working hours. That way, he won’t be home, and I can leave a message.

  I even wrote down the message I wanted to leave and practiced before I called. I was well prepared. I dialed and left the message, asking him to call me back on the Brooklyn phone number.

  My next Sunday trip to Brooklyn went quickly since I was lost in my thoughts about Gilles. I stopped by at the market to get some bread, cheese and ham to make some sandwiches. Silvia loved that sandwich and I wanted to make her happy. I called Viktor to schedule a time to meet him the next day to make another payment. I was so close to getting my passport back, and never seeing Viktor again.

  On my way to the apartment something started bothering me on the bottom of my right foot. Maybe from the shoes I was wearing. I needed to get a new, lighter pair of shoes. That was on my to-do list right after I paid my loan off. My foot looked fine except for this small spot that felt itchy. I assumed it was a bug bite, from a mosquito or something. I put some lotion on and lay down.

  It was dark getting outside. Silvia was coming home late, so I thought I’d take a shower. I went to the bathroom and tried to turn the light on, but it didn’t work. I went to the kitchen and the light didn’t work there either. I looked out the window and none of the buildings had lights on. It was a little scary.

  I’m shocked. Electricity goes out in this country? I thought this only happened in my country. I didn’t see or hear anybody say something was wrong.

  I found a candle and lit it. A common practice back home. I sat by the window, staring at the neighborhood. It was really quiet and dark. Just what I hated the most. I started thinking about my family, my home, my past.

  In the darkness, without anything to do, my thoughts consumed me. I was traveling everywhere. It felt good thinking about what I had accomplished over the last year. It was comforting to know that my family was safe, physically and financially. They didn’t have much, but they had enough for a simple life.

  I was close to paying off the loan. I had a place to stay on my day off, and I was able to explore the city. I had renewed my six-month visa as a student. Silvia’s friend told me it was always good to have a bank account, even with just twenty bucks in it, so I opened my first bank account. Silvia had lived here for years and she didn’t have a bank account. When her friend mentioned it, Silvia didn’t pay much attention, but I did. I thought it was pretty cool having a bank card in your wallet. It made me feel rich. I was thinking about Gilles and when he would call when somebody knocked on the door.

  Maybe it’s Silvia. Maybe she can’t find her keys in the dark?

  “Hello? I own the apartment next door. Hello? Is Silvia home?” she asked.

  I felt relieved that she was (probably) a neighbor and opened the door.

  “Hi, she’s not home yet,” I said. “Do you know what happened?”

  “Oh, hey there, girl,” she said. “Yeah, there’s some electricity problem in the ‘hood. Hopefully, it’ll be fixed soon. I noticed some light coming from under your door, and I see you’ve got a candle. Do you have an extra one? I wanna show this young man the apartment I’m renting out.”

  I went to the drawer but couldn’t find any more candles.

  “Here, just take this,” I said. “It’s all I have.”

  “Aww, thank you sweetie, but I can’t take that from you. Maybe you can come with us into the apartment with the candle for a little while? It won’t take
long, it’s just one room.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  I walked out and left the apartment door open.

  “Thank you so much,” she said with a big smile. “By the way, this gentleman speaks the same language as Silvia.”

  Really?

  “Hello,” I said to him in our home language.

  We all walked into the studio apartment. It was dark, so I tried to help with the lighting. It was hard to see what the place looked like.

  “I can hardly see but I don’t have the time to come back when the lights are on, or during the day,” he said in English.

  He sounds a little tipsy.

  “I guess it looks alright,” he said. “I just need a place to crash.”

  “Did you just move here?” I asked.

  “No, I’ve been here since last year. March 17th to be exact.”

  “That’s funny,” I said. “That’s the same day I got here.”

  I can’t see his face. The candle’s reflection makes him look kind of creepy. I probably look scary too.

  “We must’ve been on the same flight,” he said.

  “I would think so,” I said as I moved the candle closer to his face. “Did you meet some girl on the plane?”

  “Yes, I did, and I’ll never forget her.”

  He definitely sounds tipsy.

  “So,” I said. “I’m that girl.”

  “What?” he said, as he stared at me.

  He took my candle and moved it closer to my face.

  Whoa, he’s going to burn off my eyebrows.

  “You?” he moved in even closer. “It is you!”

  It was my travel buddy, Zachary.

  “I’ll take the apartment, here’s my deposit,” he said to the neighbor.

  Soon the electricity came back on. I checked the phone, but it wasn’t working. It must’ve been damaged somehow by the electricity outage. I got the phone company’s number from the neighbor and ran downstairs to a small pizzeria with a payphone inside. I asked the pizza guy for three dollars in quarters for the payphone. It could take a while to get through to someone. I called and waited and waited.