The Foreigners - Maxine Swann [8]
two
I went to make tea one morning, only to realize that the faucet was dry. I had no water. I called Olga, but was told by her son that she was in New York, on a trip. She loved New York. It was her dream, she had told me, to live there—there people treated you well. I looked for the owner’s brother’s number. I called and left a message. No response. Having the vaguest understanding of how these things work, I decided to take a look up on the roof. I had a dim memory of a nighttime Seattle rooftop and a water tank there.
I didn’t take the elevator but the stairs. I climbed, floor after empty floor. On the fourth floor, there was the sound of a key and then a man standing there, black hair cut close, wearing a raincoat. He seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see him. I nodded, kept climbing. The stairs gave me confidence, as opposed to the elevator. I heard a burst of classical music—it sounded like a Mahler symphony—coming from below just as I reached the next floor.
After the sixth floor, there was a last, smaller flight of stairs, then a small door leading, as I’d suspected, to the rooftop. It was a clear bright day, a bit cool. I walked out across the roof. There was indeed what looked like a water tank up on a ledge. It sounded like water was running into it right at that moment. I climbed up on the ledge to peer inside. The lid was attached to the tank with wire, only letting me lift it a little bit. But I was right, it was low but filling. The water inside looked dark and wavy. Below the tank was a round, black shape that could have been a pump.
I climbed back down from the ledge. Already while up there, I had felt something. Now I saw what it was. There was a guy looking out over the edge of the rooftop, his back to me. Then he turned and looked over his shoulder. He’d seen me too.
He wore sneakers and corduroys and a shirt with green, red and white stripes, dressed like a kid. He had blondish curls and a mournful expression at odds with his youth. “Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” he answered from his distance.
I wasn’t sure whether to stay or turn away.
“I never see anyone up here,” he said.
“I never come up here. This is my first time.” I paused. “I came because I don’t have any water.”
“You live in this building?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m renting. Do you?”
“No, no, I just have client meetings here sometimes.” He looked tired, but like a child would look tired, not the actual worn tiredness of an adult. His skin was rosy and gold.
“Really? That’s funny. I never see anyone.”
“Yeah, we, my firm, rents a place. So that sucks anyway that you don’t have water.”
“I know. Especially since I don’t know who to call. There isn’t like a super, is there?”
He shrugged, a helpless face. “I never see anyone.”
“I just don’t know anything about how water works, like why it would get shut off,” I said. “On the other hand, it seems like there’s been some activity. That tank there’s filling. And here there’s water, or was water, on the ground.”
I pointed to a wide stain of water on the rooftop, not a puddle because it was sunken in, but a stain.
By now he’d approached me. He also looked down at the stain, then, looking up, followed it over to the end of a hose. I went with him and, together, following the hose, we came to where it was attached to one side of a pipe. At the point of attachment was a spigot. We turned it on. Nothing happened. Then a little water trickled out of the hose.
We turned it off again.
“You have no water whatsoever?” he asked.
“None.”
“Hmm. But there’s water in the tank?”
“Yeah, it’s filling now.”
He stood there, thinking. “I don’t know anything about any of this either. But there’s someone I know who could help us. I’d have to make a call.”
“Would you?” I asked.
“Sure, but my cell phone’s out of juice.”
“You can call from downstairs,” I said.
“I’m Gabriel, by the way,” he said. I put out my hand. He looked surprised and shook it. “Where are you from?” he asked.
“The States.”
“Oh, really? We can speak English if you like,” he said. “I could try. The terrible thing is