The Keys

The key goes in the hole, turns easily, unlocks the door. I know of four keys that would fit this keyhole. I’ve just used one of them. The landlord's got one. She's got one. And he's got one.

I push the door open, stamp my feet, and step inside. My hand finds the light switch in one move. I hesitate a moment, as I have every time for the past seven months. Then the hall light comes on.

I move into the apartment, holding the door open for her. Her ghost follows me in. A sad smile on my face as I close and lock the door, kick my shoes off, and hang my jacket. I've never seen my own sad smile. I can't bear to look in a mirror when I think of her for fear I might see her standing next to me. A friend of mine described it for me: cheerless, nostalgic. I guess I'm a sentimental kind of guy.

I go around the apartment turning lights on and opening windows. The air is quite stale in here; I only come around once a week. It doesn't take me long to go around the apartment. It's only got the one bedroom; living area and dining area are not separated by any walls. In the kitchen I set about cleaning a kettle and a mug; almost the only two items left in the kitchen. There's the old toaster that we bought on our first shopping trip together, sitting on the counter; now broken. And in one of the cabinets, two wine glasses sit. I'm pretty sure they're the ones we drank from on our last night together.

As the water boils in the newly cleaned kettle, I open the fridge door. There's nothing inside of course. It hasn't been turned on in months, so I have to air it out as well. Taking the mug in hand, I withdraw a tea-bag from the box on the counter. There's only two bags left. I remind myself to get another box on my next trip.

Waiting for the water, I turn to the phone table. I'm tempted to go pick it up. Old habit. We used to check the phone for voicemail when we entered. It's still plugged into the wall, but I cancelled the service long ago. It's been five visits since I trained myself to not pick it up to listen to dead silence for a few seconds.

The water's ready.

I make my tea, pouring out the extra water from the kettle. Three visits since I left the extra water to cool in the kettle. I'd justify it to myself saying that I might want a second cup of tea. But I knew I was really just boiling extra water for a cup of tea for her. I still boil enough for two, even though I throw half of it out right after I make my own tea. Have to keep practicing. You never know really...

She said there's a good chance she would come back.

I take my tea to the one chair left in the apartment. This armchair has seen better days, but not while we had it. I'm not surprised she did not take it with her. I didn't bother when I cleaned out after her. Besides, I need something to sit in when I make my visits. And I don't think I could handle sitting on the bed in the bedroom.

I've gotten used to drinking my tea without any sugar.

Just in time for sunset. As usual. I'm facing the window, looking out across the park. The sun's about to go down, and the sky is such a wonderful colour. I'm reminded of her each time I see something beautiful.

There's that sad smile again. I can feel it.

Her ghost settles down in an imaginary chair next to me as I drink my tea. And the memories begin.

Over a year and a half now. Only a year and a half.

I'd graduated and she had just a few more credits to finish. Four years earlier I really had no intention of returning home. But four years can change a person. What changed? I wanted to return home to settle any and all affairs. And to make sure I was doing the right thing. So I arranged to go back and teach English as a second language for a year. I tried to get her to come with me.

Maybe I didn't try hard enough.

So I left and she stayed. We e-mailed almost every day. Talked on the phone a few times. Chatted on the net frequently.

But it was hard on her. And she needed to be independent, like she had never been before. She asked for space. I was accommodating.

Then he came along. And complicated things. She was confused. Unsure. But she needed to know if we were right.

"If you love something, set it free. If it loves you back, it will return."

So I agreed. She did not really ask me. She told me it was what she needed.

Just before I returned, she sent me an e-mail telling me that she was moving out of our place. She would not take everything with her, but she did need some stuff for the place she was moving to. She ended by saying she was sorry, but she still needed time and space. And if I would take her back, she would probably be coming back to me someday. But in the meantime, I should be free too.

So I returned to an apartment I didn't really want to live in. It didn't take long to find a new place and a decent job. The new place is a bachelor pad, with mostly new things. It's a good thing I make enough money and don't really spend too much of it. I'm not saving as much as I wish I could of course.

Six weeks after my return, she e-mailed to tell me they were over and he had moved out. She wasn't ready for me yet, but things were going alright for her. How was I?

Miserable. "Fine."

I miss you. "Job's going ok so far."

I miss us. "Wanna meet for lunch or something?"

I want you back in my life. "Here's my number. Call me if you want, for anything, alright?"

She hasn't called.

Once in a while I bump into a mutual friend. I try not to talk about her.

She's e-mailed a few times. I've written back far more often.

I had a casual affair with a co-worker once. It lasted all of two weeks. I knew that I wanted her. I'd been sure about us even before I left.

Close my eyes for a bit. I remember the good times, the bad times, the sad times, the happy times. I remember our first date. A walk in the park, subs from a small sandwich place, some forgettable movie, holding hands. I remember our first kiss. I remember sitting outside the library teaching her chess. I remember her taking care of me when I fell ill. I remember our first fight – I didn't take her side in a disagreement on an interpretation of something – and how we made up later. I remember our first night together and how it lasted until morning. I remember consoling her when she found out the family cat had passed away. I remember traveling on the train with her when we went to visit family.

It all had meaning for me. It was all special to me.

Open my eyes again.

And the memories stop.

Life has a way of intruding on our dreams. But hope is such a powerful force.

There it is! "First star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might." How does it go again? I can't seem to get it right.

I get up to go wash the mug and kettle. It's time to go.

I know I can make her happy. She only has to give me the chance. So I'll wait.

Only a year and a half now. Over a year and a half.

Before leaving the building I check the mailbox in the front. There's the usual junkmail, and one bill. Nothing from her. Not that I expect her to write me here, even if it is the only mailing address she has for me. If she were by my side, she would chide me once again for not checking the mail on the way in. I'd always forgotten to do that; she always remembered. I've changed since then, but whenever I make this trip, it seems a ritual for me to do it the old way again.

With mail in hand, I leave the building. Heading to my car I think to myself, yesterday was Friday. I haven't gone to Friday prayers in a long time. Maybe I'll go this week.

I think I'll have Chinese for dinner tonight. As usual.

There's four keys that I know of that would open that door. I haven't seen the landlord in person since I left; I deal with her through mail. And I rather doubt I'll be bumping into him anytime. But how I wish I could see that other key again someday.