I remember the tightness of my stomach when I pulled into the driveway of 1200 Hamilton Drive. Outside the car next to the carport were two men sitting on stairs leading up to the upstairs unit of the duplex. They wore loose clothes and unwelcoming faces. One was wearing an undershirt and the other a buttoned shirt open exposing his copper chest. They sat smoking cigarettes.Their worn and dry eyes glared at me as I parked next to them. Their muscles were tense and their heads held slightly tilted back as if giving me an overall inspection. I could feel my throat dry up and my skin flare. I looked at them and then at my watch. With masked boldness, I rolled down the window and opened the car door from the outside (reminding myself again to replace the inside handle).
The leasing agent was running late.
They continued to watch me as I walked from the car to the brick wall which stood adjacent to the stairs. I averted their gaze in an apathetic manner. It was my only defense, apathy. I felt out of my element. I felt right at home. To pass time (among other things), I lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall.
The minute I did, " Oye guero. You looking for somebody?"
The sun was shining in my eyes. I followed their movements, sun exposed just as mine. I looked directly at the speaker. "Yes. I am." That was all I gave him.
Before I let any ideas muster in their minds (or mine) I decided to not continue to act suspiciously. I forced a smile and said, walking towards him, "La dueƱa. She is going to show me the downstairs unit." I lifted my pasty white hand and pointed my behind them at the door then pocketed my hands. "I'm Cooper." I said. I felt the sunlight warm my body to a sweat. The coolness of the AC now evaporated. The speaker, the man with the open shirt, reached into his back pocket and removed his crushed pack of discounted smokes and placed one in his mouth.
"I'm Ramon." He said and then lit up.
I ashed mine on my shoe.
"This is Jorge." Jorge kept silent but nodded to me. Before another word spoken, I heard a car engine behind me and turned to see an aged sedan parking next to mine. I could feel their eyes behind me shift from the back of my head to each other in some communicative way.
In tan colored and style-dated power suit, the landlady exited the car. She was just over fifty, it seemed, and was heavy with a wrinkling face and battered hands. The sunlight hides no one, I thought.She gave a glance to the men and then called to me, "Sorry I'm late." She wiped the sweat of her brow and swiftly passed by us chatting the entire way, "So your unit would be over here. Like I said it's a one bedroom. Simple, but nice." I departed the men, and they sat down and returned to their original discussion.
When I reached the woman, she was passing through keys on her key ring until she found a worn copper one. It was similar to the others, yet distinctively older and shapeless.
Only seconds after we entered, I didn't think about Ramon and Jorge. I was inspecting what would be my next habitat.
The unit was indeed small, but I was surprised at its purposed design to appear otherwise. Large glass sliding doors leading to the backyard poured sunlight on the linoleum floor. The light nearly covered half the living room. The kitchen had a bar which was chest high and wide, expanded the view from the front door to the back wall behind the cabinets. A small dining section was sanctioned at the far corner near the large glass doors. The landlady walked around and showed the place. I listened to almost nothing she said but nodded at the expected moments. I turned down the hall into the bedroom which was a standard square room with a large window facing the street.
I had seen all I needed to see. This was all there was to see.
Ramon and Jorge we no longer outside when I returned. But I would see them again very soon.
I got in my car and after turning the key several times, the engine started, and I drove to get lunch.
I called the lady after my food arrived and told her I wanted to move in.
"Seems like my kind of place." I said.
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