Unfolding my cane, I pushed the glass door open, exiting Vinnie’s Italian restaurant. My stomach was always satisfied after eating there. It was my favorite restaurant, even though it was a little out of my price range for one dinner.
The evening street was crowded. Kids were on both sides of the street, on every corner. Boys and girls were sitting, standing, drinking coffee, smoking and playing hacky-sack. I could never understand why boys play hacky-sack on the street. Why couldn’t they play in the park or at school or better yet, at home?
I mindlessly moved my cane from side to side upon the sidewalk getting it stuck in some of the cracks here and there, accidentally stabbing myself in the stomach a few times with it. Men and women were hurrying down the street steering clear of me so that they did not trip. People in cars were shouting at other drivers, honking their horns and making rude gestures.
Why are people always in such a big hurry? Is the world going to end? Is it going to blow up? Did I miss the news report about that this morning?... Am I going to die an old maid?
Turning the corner of a building, I found a young couple in the middle of a kiss-a-thon. My eyes automatically closed tightly as I walked past them, pretending that I didn’t see them.
With a sigh I unlocked the door to my apartment with one hand and dropped my cane inside on the floor with the other. I let my fingers go limp dropping my apartment key on the end table and turned on the nearby light. I hung my purse and coat upon a hook behind the door and stretched out my arms above my head, closing my eyes. Picking my cane up off the floor, I leaned it against the wall behind the door heading toward the couch where I allowed myself to drop upon the center of the cushions. The remote control was sitting on the coffee table and I grabbed it, turning the tube on to see if there were any shows worth watching. A man and a woman dressed in formal clothing appeared on the screen in black and white, embracing each other with less than an inch between each other’s lips.
“I can’t live without you,” cried the woman.
“I can’t live without you,” the man trembled, running his fingers through the woman’s hair. The couple looked into each other’s eyes for a moment and dove into a dramatic kiss.
That does not look like a very comfortable kiss. That looks more like suffocation.
I aimed the remote control at the TV as if it were a gun, changing the channel.
“Girl, yo’ must be tired, ‘cause yo’ been running through ma mind all night long,” a young black man said.
I rolled my eyes and pointed the remote toward the TV again.
“Do you, Barbara, take Butch to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do.”
“Do you, Butch, take Barbara to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do.”
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
The couple kissed and the organ blasted, followed by a round of applause. I scrunched my nose up and turned the TV off, dropping the remote control on the coffee table.
Deciding to listen to some music instead, I grabbed the remote control for the stereo.
“Give it to me baby. Uh-huh, uh-huh!” I changed the station. “Ah. . . yeah. Ah. . . yeah. You can do me in the morning; you can do me in the night.” I changed it again. “I wonna sex you up.” I changed the station again. “Leeet meee seeee that thong. Thong-thong-thong-thong-thong-thong.” I changed the station AGAIN. “Yummy yummy yummy. I’ve got love in my tummy.” I gave up and turned the stereo off.
Has the world gone mad? Can we sell something other than sex for more than half a second? I mean I know that it’s a big seller and all, but give it a rest once in a while.
Something brushed up against my door like a piece of paper being slid beneath it. I dropped the remote, stumbling around the couch to see if I could catch whoever was in the hallway. I unlocked the door and flung it wide open, looking quickly in both directions. But no one was there except for my neighbor, who was locking her door. She glanced at me strangely. “Antonia, is something wrong?” she asked, putting her keys in her purse.
“Um, no, Maria. Did you see anyone at my door just now?” I asked, smiling with uncertainty as Maria began to pass me.
Maria paused for a second and said in her usual polite tone, “Oh, no, I am sorry. I didn’t see anyone. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Oh, no. Everything’s fine,” I said, smiling with a hand up as if I were defending myself.
“All right then. Have a nice day,” said Maria, smiling and waving, making her way down the hallway.
“You too,” I called after her.
Closing my door, I locked it with the latch and slowly squatted all the way down and just stared at the envelope for a minute as if it might be laced with Anthrax. It was red with its sealed back to me. I slowly reached for it, picking it up by one of the four corners with my left hand and turning it over. “Antonia” was written with a black marker in very neat and very fancy script. But there wasn’t an address, a return address, a postage stamp or a postmark anywhere on the envelope. My heart began to pound.
This is weird. Who would send me something without a stamp, postmark or return address?
Getting up from my squatting position, I groped around for a letter opener in my desk drawer. Slowly opening the red envelope, my heart pounded faster than normal. I pulled out a white card with a picture of a red rose on the front. Opening the card, I read in the same fancy script:
Hi.
I know who you are.
I’ve been watching you for a long time.
Look for the next installment of The Moment in the next issue of I-Witness
