Disappear

I stood outside the apartment I came to look at, and my first impression was that the building was beautiful. That is, until I walked inside and saw that stairwell. Talk about old. The railing looked as rickety as the ones you see in horror movies, and the stairs were so dusty that when I put my foot on the first step, a claylike powder puffed up like a cloud under my dress, and I could've sworn they were going to collapse. I was making a mistake Ð'-- I knew that already. Something had told me the ad sounded too good to be true: Large one-bedroom, fully renovated brownstone, 10-foot ceilings, all new appliances, exposed brick, southern exposure, 10 minutes to Wall Street, close to shops, subway: $500.

I heard the sound of hammering from the top of the stairs, so I took my chances and ran up. Sawdust was flying around the white room like gold snow. I looked down, saw a curved red back, then a long arm flying up, thick black fingers grasping a hammer, and when it swung back down, the sound of the impact scared me. I jumped.

He looked up, then stood. What can I do for you? he asked.

Lord have mercy, was all I heard inside my head. I couldn't move, let alone speak. I really couldn't believe what I was seeing. This man had to be six foot something, because he was towering over me. His eyes looked like black marbles set in almonds. He wore a Yankees baseball cap, backward, and when he lifted it from his head to shake off the dust, his hair was jet black and wavy. That nose was strong and regal, and beneath it was a thick mustache. His cheeks looked chiseled; his lips succulent. And those shoulders. They were as wide as any linebacker's. His thighs were tight, and his legs went on forever. He was covered with dust, but when he pushed the sleeves of his red sweatshirt up to his elbows, his arms were the color of black grapes.

Did you come to look at the apartment? he asked.

I cleared my throat and heard a word come out of my mouth. Yes.

Then he smiled down at me, as if he was thinking about something that had happened to him earlier. Well, we running behind schedule -- as usual -- and I don't know when we gon' be finished. I been trying to figure out how all these damn mice been getting in here. Ain't found it yet. And I don't know how the roaches and water bugs getting in here either. Tribes of 'em. We gon' have to fumigate this place good before anybody even think about moving in here.

Mice? Water bugs and roaches? This place is brand new. Was he joking? Are you the owner?

I wish I was. He's back there, he said, pointing down a long hallway. Hey, Vinney he yelled. Somebody's here to see you, man.

Before I started in that direction, I did notice that the living room was big and shaped like an L. Three tall windows extended from the ceiling almost to the floor, which meant sunshine. The kitchen was over in a corner, but I could live with that. Halfway down the hall was the bathroom. I peeked in and turned on the light. I couldn't believe it. A sea-blue bathtub, toilet, and sink And clean white tile on the floor and walls, and one of those orange lamps in the ceiling to help you dry off . So far so good. When I entered the doorway at the end of the hall, I was standing inside a sunny bedroom, with two more windows.

Hello, Miss Banks, the owner said, then reached out to shake my hand. I shook his, even though it was filthy.

Let me say first off that we'll be finished in a day or so. You like what you see?

The man up front said he didn't know when you'd be finished. He also said there were problems with bugs and mice.

That's bullshit. First of all, like I said, we'll be finished in a day or two. And we ain't seen nothing crawling around in here except men. The place has been completely gutted -- everything in here is brand-new. Frankie's known for being a jokester, but today he's pushing it.

Frankie? What a stupid name for such a striking man. What's this little room over here? I asked.

Oh, that's just sort of a extra-large closet. It's too small to call it a bedroom, which is why we didn't put it in the ad. Perfect for a kid, though. But you said you didn't have kids. Use it for storage, whatever.

It was a tiny room, but I guessed I could squeeze my piano in. I walked over to the window. At least there were trees back there, even if they were in other people's yards. I looked down at the wooden planks under my feet. What are you going to do to the floors?

We're laying the finest carpet available in every room except the kitchen area and bathroom. Sort of a beigy color -- neutral, you know. That suit you?

There's no way you could put in hardwood floors?

You want the apartment? There's plenty of interest in it already. I coulda rented it this morning, but I knew you were coming, and I wanted to be fair, you know.

If you can put in hardwood floors and guarantee that the stairwell won't look like it does now for too much longer, I'll take it.

First off, when you renovate a whole building, you always save the stairs till last, or they'd be worse off with all the ripping and running the men do up and down 'em. And hardwood floors? It'll cost you a few dollars extra for the labor, and'll add a few more days to the job.

How much extra?

Not much, if you get pine. Don't worry, we can work something out. You positive you want wood? They collect dust like there ain't no tomorrow.

I'm positive. I didn't care about the dust. When I first walked in here, I had already pictured shiny wood floors, not some drab carpet. And I hate beige. It's so boring.

Frankie, he yelled. Come in here a minute, would you?

He walked back into the bedroom, ducking his head under the arch. I tried not to look directly at him, because I was thinking that I wished he came with the place. I tried, instead, to look indifferent.

What's up, boss? he asked sarcastically.