An Austrian Tenant
“Are you going to renovate this before we move in?”
Kate asked the landlord and pointed at a hole in the wall. The hole was fist-sized. The rims were covered in clotted blood. Kate walked closer, her hand hovered over the hole’s rim.
“Mom, don’t touch it.”
A five-year-old girl looked at the hole with her eyes wide open.
“Don’t be afraid, Darling. I’m not getting HIV in such a stupid way.”
The landlord waved at Kate to come to the middle of the room. He stood between Kate and the hole, blocking the view.
“Don’t worry. I will fix that this week. The previous tenant was nervous.” He smiled at the kid.
“You, kid, look normal.”
“I’m normal,” said the kid. She kicked the chair leg.
“Abigail.”
She stopped kicking and looked at her mother.
“This will be your room. What do you think?”
Abigail’s lower lip jutted out. She crossed her arms.
“There is a hole in the wall.”
Kate kneeled in front of the girl.
“Mr. Jordan promised to fix it for you.”
“Yes, don’t worry. What color do you want your wall? Pink?”
“I’m not a little girl!”
Abigail sat on the chair, turned away from everyone.
“Let’s go to the kitchen!”
The landlord ushered them into the corridor.
“About that previous guy…” Kate said.
They stopped in front of the kitchen door.
“Were people afraid of him?”
“No. No. No. Why?”
“I saw neighbours peeking out of their apartments as we walked here.”
The landlord sighed.
“The guy is in prison. He won’t be out for ten years. Let’s go to the kitchen.”
Kate lifted Abigail and sat her in a counter chair.
“Look how long the counter is. I can make you pancakes every day. You will sit here.”
Kate touched the chair where Abigail sat.
“I don’t want to sit here. I want that chair.”
Abigail pointed at the other end of the counter.
“Ok. You can sit there. But why?”
“I don’t want to look at the trashcan.”
The landlord put the trashcan inside the sink cabinet and closed the door.
“Problem solved.”
He grinned at the girl. Abigail stuck her tongue out.
“So about the renovation?” Kate said. “When can we move in?”
“I need three days.”
“Mom! Dad will find us if we stay three days at Grandpa’s. You told me that!”
Kate wiped a tear from Abigail’s eye with a handkerchief.
“You can start bringing your stuff in tomorrow,” the landlord said.
Kate looked at him and nodded.
Kate left the kitchen and walked into the bedroom. She took three steps back.
“Mr. Jordan. Was the previous tenant a German?”
The landlord’s brow rose.
“No. Actually… I don’t know. Austrian maybe. Why?” he walked towards the bedroom.
“That’s why.”
Kate pointed at something inside the bedroom. Abigail jumped down from the chair.
“Abigail, wait a moment, please.” Kate said.
Abigail rocked the chair back and forth with her hands.
The landlord walked into the bedroom. “Die Robinson” was written above the bed.
“Robinson. Robinson.” He whispered.
“I think I saw that name here,” Kate said. “Isn’t it the guy living by the staircase?”
The landlord undid the top button of his shirt and rubbed his neck.
“That would fit. They were not getting along. I will paint that room too. You don’t want pink either, do you?”
Kate’s laugh stopped as she walked closer to the wall.
“Mr. Jordan. Shouldn’t we call the police?” she pointed at a piece of adhesive tape on the wall.
Through the clear plastic, a pristine, brass 9mm cartridge gleamed against the drywall. It hadn’t been fired, yet. The landlord reached for the tape and tore it off the wall.
“I will take this. Don’t worry.”
Abigail walked inside the room.
“Mom, what’s written there?” She pointed at the wall.
“It’s I love this room.” Kate kneeled in front of Abigail. “Isn’t this a lovely place?”