Locks

The next day I called the maintenance man and had him come over to change the locks. After explaining the situation, he was more than happy to oblige.

I finally felt like attempting to go to work but I realized that it was Saturday and the office would be closed. I really had been in my own world these last few weeks.

Oh well. I’m sure there was a great Saturday movie on AMC. I slumped back onto the couch, picked up the remote and turned to the channel. It was an old favorite, The Breakfast Club with Molly Ringwald. Emilio Estevez was talking about duct taping a guy in the locker room when I heard a key in the door.

The key went in; it jiggled a few times; and then I heard it pulled out again and nothing Ten seconds later the key went in again; it was jiggled; the door knob was turned and nothing. It was still locked. Who could that be now, I wondered. I jumped off the couch and went to the front door. I peered through the peep hole and my breath caught in my throat. I gasped.

I could feel my heart start to race. The anger was boiling up inside of me. I took a breath. I took another one. I counted to ten. And then I heard a knock. One knock, two knocks, three knocks. I started to unlock the door but then realized that I just wasn’t ready. I couldn’t open it yet. I hadn’t figured out what I would say yet. I hadn’t written a gut-wrenching speech. I hadn’t prepared myself.

But worst of all, I hadn’t showered in days and I was still in the pajamas I had slept in last night. I lifted my arm to smell my pits. My assumption was right. They reaked. As the knocks got more persistent and much louder, I debated on whether to open the door and let all hell break loose or to slump back to the couch and hide away for another couple of days.