• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 236 0

This was not entirely unusual because part of the wall was open to the sky, so sometimes it would rain or leaves would fall in onto the floor. But this puddle extended underneath the door. I opened the door and indeed it was part of a much larger puddle, more like a long shallow pool, that extended all the way down the black-and-white-checkered hall. At the end, where the kitchen was, I saw a glimmering mass, deeper water still. I hurried to the source, not without a quick peek on the way into the living room. The rug was submerged in about an inch of water. My sneakers were soon soaked, but that was the least of my problems. I got to the kitchen, where water was steadily pouring out from the little white cabinet beneath the sink. I opened the cabinet. Water gurgled copiously from one of the pipes. I knelt down and put my hands around the pipe. There was so much pressure, the water shot through my fingers, the gurgling curves turned into violent spray. I stood up and peered into the living room again. The lower legs of the furniture were all submerged.

I called Olga and left a message on her cell phone. I opened the front door and peered out into the hall. Could somebody help me? As usual, there was no one around. I climbed one flight up where I’d once seen a man with dark hair in an overcoat enter his apartment and turn on a Mahler symphony. I knocked on the door. No one. Then it occurred to me that the more urgent scenario was the one downstairs. Those were the people who would be suffering my leak. I went down to the apartment below and knocked. I did hear sounds, but it took a moment for someone to appear. Finally, a young man with silky dark hair and blunt features opened the door.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I live upstairs. My apartment’s flooding. I was afraid the water might be coming down here too.”

“I haven’t noticed anything,” he said.

“Do you own the place?”

“No, no, I don’t. I just work here. I’m with a client now.”

As he was talking, I saw a darkening patch of water on the wall behind him. “There, there it is!” I said.

He turned and looked. “Oh, yeah.”

But he didn’t seem that concerned. Or rather, he seemed much more concerned with what he was doing.

“Hey,” a voice called out behind him.

“I’ll just finish up something and then I’ll call the owner. Thank you, thank you very much.” And he closed the door in my face.

Of course, he’s doing Gabriel’s job, I thought. I called Gabriel and left a message, describing the situation and asking him to call me back.

I returned to the leaking pipe in my kitchen. Wasn’t there caulk or something I could put on it? Tape, Super Glue? I looked in the cupboards and various drawers of the furniture. Nothing.

Meanwhile, the water was rising on the floor. I could monitor the water level by looking at the far wall of the living room. Nearby were doors that opened onto the balcony. The least I could do, I thought, is open those doors. I crossed and opened them. Water flushed out onto the balcony and fell in a sheet down into the back garden. The day was the same as it had been earlier, calm and rosy. Looking down, I saw someone in the garden. Could this be the reclusive super? This man who I felt sure existed, but was impossible to find. When I’d asked Olga about him, she too had seemed vague. “There is a super,” she’d said, “or there was. I’ve never seen him myself.”

“Hey,” I yelled.“Help!” By now I was just shouting at the receding back of a man, the top of his head, slightly balding, strong, rounded shoulders. Without even a glance, he stepped back inside.

I turned back to the room. The whole situation felt out of my hands. I was in a foreign city, in a place not my own, no one was helping me. I pictured the water steadily rising, inch by inch, as high as a foot. Soon I’d be wading through the rooms, like people waded across the streets when it flooded here, the water at my shins, then knees, then thighs.At some point, I’d have to simply get the hell out of here. I’d pack my things and walk out with my bag, leaving the apartment, the whole building, to rot and