The Apartment

by Mattea Crabtree

Adelaide sat at the window of the apartment and looked out onto the deserted street.

There was rarely any action outside of the abandoned apartment, especially on weekends. Or at least Adelaide thought it was a weekend? It had been a long time since she had been able to check. The only reason she was able to guess was because she didn’t hear the school bell calling the children to their lessons.

Adelaide wondered what real school was like. It’s probably torturous, she decided. Simply unbearable. These thoughts kept her hidden in the apartment. They kept her alone. See, Adelaide was not a normal child. Normal children live with their parents, they go to school, they live in nice houses, they grow up, get jobs and then have children of their own. But Adelaide couldn’t remember her parents. She didn’t even remember having parents. Most of her life was a blur, with a speckle of memories here and there.

Adelaide couldn’t read or write. She did however have an exceptional connection with animals. In fact, it was the swallows that perched on her window that informed her of what the real world did to children with no parents: they packed them up and shipped them off to places called ‘orphanages’, cold and dreary buildings, with beaked harpy-women in dark cloaks, wearing harsh expressions. Adelaide wasn’t sure how much of this was true (because the swallows, as everybody knows, are very dramatic), but it still didn’t appeal to her in the least.

She loved her abandoned apartment, and she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. The apartment was cozy and safe. Most of the windows were broken or boarded up and there were plenty of cobwebs, but it felt like home none the less. It had a brilliant backyard with trees that were tall and withered, perfectly inhabited with crows and bats. The garden of dead roses added a slightly sweet and bitter scent to the air, plus there were many places to run around, and a fence so she would never be spotted. Adelaide was extra careful to never be spotted. If she was, then perhaps what the swallows had said would come true?

Looking out the window, Adelaide began tapping her fingers impatiently. “Where is Mother Jay?”, she mumbled to herself. Mother Jay was Adelaide’s favourite feathered friend. She was very kind, a great advice-giver, and she brought Adelaide food every morning and night so she would never go hungry. Adelaide wasn’t sure where she got the food from, but from wherever it came, she was always thankful.

Mother Jay dive-bombed onto the ledge, lost control and crash landed on to Adelaide’s cot. In her talons was a half-eaten hamburger that she placed on Adelaide’s lap. Scarfing it down, Adelaide began conversing with Mother Jay: “How are the chicks?”, she asked, bits of burger flying from her lips. Mother Jay whistled a reply, to which Adelaide responded: “no I understand perfectly. I’m not the only mouth you have to feed tonight.” Adelaide watched as Mother Jay flew out the window. She was sad to see her go, the apartment could be so lonely sometimes. Seeing the sun disappearing behind New York’s distant buildings, Adelaide curled up in her cot. The fall breeze tickled her nose and made the leaves rustle. Soon enough she fell asleep to the taste of the autumn air.

The next morning a bell woke her up. It wasn’t the school bell, but an entirely different bell all together. The sound of the church bell. Hearing the deep gonging noise, Adelaide rushed to the window. She observed the familiar families below: women with their faces concealed under large colourful hats, men walking stiffly in suits and ties and little children shifting uncomfortably in itchy clothes. They all walked down the street as Adelaide watched, a polite chatter drifted in through the glassless window. Adelaide felt a pang of longing. She pictured herself in a flower-printed dress and long tights, her nicely shined dress shoes walking with purpose. Why would I want that? It’s probably torturous, simply unbearable, she thought.

Suddenly, Adelaide noticed something out of the corner of her eye – a face she had never seen before. It was a boy. He was tall, dark skinned and curious, walking down the street with his parents. She examined him. His shoes were polished, and he wore a freshly ironed shirt. When she looked up at his face, she saw he was staring directly at her! She quickly ducked out of view. Shaking nervously, she didn’t look out again until the chatter had stopped. Nobody was in the street anymore, not a single straggler. Adelaide was relieved. The boy must not have noticed her after all. Deciding she needed some fresh air, she hurried down the stairs. She was out of breath and panting by the time she reached the bottom of the staircase. I should really learn to fix elevators, she thought cheerily, pushing the boy from her mind.

The backyard was spacious and overgrown, yet at the same time slightly barren. She took a seat at the small pond with a chipped cherub statue that used to spit water, but had long since broken. Adelaide sighed, just as she had thought she could relax and breathe in the cool autumn air, a bird landed on her. And then another, and another. Jumping up with a start, she shook them from their perch. “What are you guys doing?”, she asked surprised. The birds twittered, tweet tweet tweet, which really meant: “you are so busted!” Adelaide frowned and crossed her arms, “what do you mean?”, she asked. Tweet tweet tweet, they replied: “we all saw you get spotted by that little boy, Henry.” “Nuh, huh. He clearly did not see me!”, she said panicking. Tweet tweet tweet: “yes, he clearly did! We heard him tell his father, but he didn’t believe him”. “So, no harm, right?” Adelaide said. The swallows rolled their eyes, (or at least as well as they could with no evident pupils), and then flew away. Just like a swallow to leave you confused and disgruntled; They loved to stir up drama, Adelaide thought to herself as she tried to dismiss what the birds had said. But the rest of her day was ruined. No matter what she did, thoughts of the boy, (Henry, they’d called him), crept into her mind: He knew? No he didn’t! He knew? No he didn’t! She thought about this while she explored the apartment (despite having explored it millions of times already), she thought about it while she conversed with the local attic bats, and she thought about it as she gazed out the window. Heck, she thought about it in the bathroom! He knew? No he didn’t? He knew? No he didn’t.

Adelaide hurried back to her room to find that Mother Jay had left her a half-eaten burrito. She had hoped to ask her for advice about Henry, but the sun was setting, and Adelaide knew she had other duties to attend to. Curling up in bed, Adelaide felt scared for the first time in a long time. She envisioned a dreary building with hundreds of grim-faced children. Ghostly harpies hovered over her, each seeming sicklier than the last. Every creak or gust of wind made her jump. Her eyes scanned the world anxiously, half expecting someone to snatch her up right there and then. But no one did, and she drifted off into a feverish sleep.

Monday morning Adelaide woke up freezing cold. A pool of sweat had formed over her brow. She combed her fingers through her tangled red hair and gazed out of the window at the children going to school. They wore the same clothes. Girls in pleated skirts and boys in wrinkled pants. Adelaide imagined herself among them: It’s probably torturous, simply unbearable. She found herself scanning the crowd for Henry. She found him walking alone at the end of the group. He was already scanning her window. Their eyes met and she ducked away a few seconds too late. She looked out again just long enough to catch him run straight inside the abandoned apartment building. Adelaide sucked in her breathe. He was looking for her! He was going to tell everybody about her!  They would take her away.

Adelaide hid in the closet and closed the door barely breathing. For a long time nothing happened. She cracked the door open a bit … and then a lot. He must have decided to go home, she thought relieved. He knew? No he didn’t! But then she heard a loud scream. Adelaide stood at the closet door, her heart pounding and eyes closed. She was frozen in fear. Not of Henry, but of her next decision and what it could mean for her world. Her eyes opened with clarity. She knew what she had to do. She darted to the stairs.

The screams were coming from the elevator. Adelaide stopped a few feet away from the elevator, her heart pounding so loudly, she was sure the boy, Henry, could hear it. Stepping closer, she tapped on the elevator door. ‘Hello?!” cried a desperate voice. “Help me, I’m stuck!”. Adelaide paused. This was her first time since she could remember talking to somebody that wasn’t a bat or a bird. “Hello?”, the boy cried out once again. She couldn’t hold off any longer, “H-hello!” Adelaide said, shocked at her own voice. “Hello!”, she tried again more confidently, “I’m gonna get you out of there!” She pulled on the elevator doors. The doors had shut tight and didn’t give in. She tried again, nothing! They wouldn’t budge. “Help!”, he said again not attempting to mask his urgency. Adelaide knew what she needed to do. “Hold on!”, she said, as Henry banged on the doors, panicking and crying out “don’t leave me!” She rushed up stairs to her room and whistled out the window as high pitched and forcefully as she could, no longer worrying about being discovered. It’s too late for that, she thought to herself.

At Adelaide’s call, two hawks landed on the ledge, broad and strong. The three of them together hurried downstairs to the screaming boy. “Please help!”, he screamed, his voice filled with terror. Adelaide looked to the hawks. “Please help me get the doors open!” she said. With a nod the hawks grabbed on to the sides of the elevator doors with their talons and helped Adelaide pull. It was a struggle even with their power. The hawks flapped their wings using the full force of their bodies to try to pry the doors open. Adelaide found her fingers turning white and her eyes watering from the strain. With a fearsome cry the hawks pried the doors open and tumbled to the ground with a disgruntled caw. The boy fixed his wild eyes on Adelaide. He was in tears and was shaking slightly, but his fear evaporated quickly, “it’s you!”, he said.  Her bravery faded and was replaced with sudden panic, Adelaide flew up the stairs. By saving the boy, she had revealed herself.

The boy chased her and chased her, but she couldn’t stop running. Running away from this boy seemed just like running from the orphanage, running from those wicked harpies, running from the school, and the church, and everything that would be torturous and simply unbearable! She knew the apartment better than he did, but Henry had long legs and before she could slide out of view, he grabbed the back of her coat and they both tumbled to the bottom of the stairs. “Who are you?”, Henry asked. Adelaide scrambled backwards. The damage had been done. She needed to confess and hope that this boy would be able to keep a secret. “Where are you parents?” he demanded. Adelaide panted and shrugged, “n-not sure…”. Henry stood up and dusted off his pants, “you live here alone?” He asked. “Yes,” she admitted tears welling up in her eyes, “yes, I do, and I like it. So don’t let them take me! Okay?”

“Henry frowned looking at the now vulnerable girl. “Who are they? And why would they take you?”  Fear stabbed at her like a knife. “They. The harpies in dark robes, the beaked ghostly faces, the ones in the orphanages.” Henry’s frown deepened, “even an orphanage would be better than here.  We just moved to town and my mother is the new cook at the orphanage. You are talking about the nuns. The nuns are there to care for the children. They’re really very nice people”.

“Don’t lie to me! I know who they are! The swallows told me!”, she added desperately.

“Do you mean the birds?”

“Of course! Who else?” Adelaide said.

Henry looked reproachful. “What kind of person can talk to birds?”

“Anyone if they listen”, Adelaide said, beginning to breathe evenly again. “But most people don’t. Birds are very intelligent. They have no trouble understanding you.”

Henry helped Adelaide stand up. “Thank you for saving me. What’s your name?”

“Adelaide.” She said, looking away.

“I’m sorry I chased you, Adelaide, but you shouldn’t live here! You should live in a house!”

“I already told you, Henry…”

“Wait, how do you know my name?”

“You know, the birds told me … and as I already said, I like it here. I like living alone. I have birds and bats that care for me. I can’t leave them, and they look after me just fine.” Henry paused in consideration and said, “I think you should come to my house for dinner and meet my family. They are really lovely and maybe we can be friends.” He sounded hopeful. The word felt foreign to her. Hesitating for a moment longer, she smiled, “alright, but hang on.”

After a brief discussion with Mother Jay in her bedroom, Adelaide returned to Henry. Together they left the apartment, and he led her to his house. It was early enough that children were still out on the street drawing with chalk, skipping, or playing tag. Adelaide looked at them curiously. She had never seen children playing this close before. Henry’s house was a large white building with a pink picket fence. The curtains were drawn back allowing Adelaide to look inside. She was used to looking out of windows, but it felt strange looking into one. Adelaide studied the scene playing out before her eyes. Henry’s mother, a pretty smiling woman, stirred soup at a stove top, and Henry’s father hugged her from behind. Setting the spoon down in the pot, Henry’s mother grabbed his father’s hands, and they waltzed around the kitchen playfully, mouthing lyrics the entire time. They looked genuinely happy, and Adelaide pictured herself among them, in her own room in the house, her own set of school clothes, warm loving parents of her own to waltz around the room with, and to kiss her goodnight.

It’s probably torturous, simply unbear… well, maybe not.