Never Leave Again

versions of myself i see

The building's lack of security enables us to climb the steep stairs up to the third floor. The colour of the paint on the walls changes, though it is still peeling nevertheless. I can't help but feel as though there are ghosts roaming these halls. It's eerie.

Clàudia holds her hand out for me to take as we reach the door of the correct apartment, and she says nothing about how clammy my skin has become. I swallow down the hesitation that almost turns my body right around and makes me run back home; somewhere safe and known. But this is exactly the point, I guess. This is unfamiliar territory, but there is a reason why. Mamá wouldn't keep a random man's letters for him – she has worked many jobs, but she has never been a secretary.

I inhale forcefully as I extend my arm, free hand balled into a fist, and knock on the dark green door. This coat of paint, unlike every other job in this building, it seems, is new. I had almost expected my knuckles to become a matching stain of green with how fresh it looks.

It takes only a moment for whoever is living here to open the door. Clàudia's grip on my hand tightens, as if she is reminding me that she is right here beside me.

A Chinese woman stares at us through the gap left by her half-open door, wondering why we have not yet presented her a parcel and got on with our lives. My mouth opens and closes, no sound coming out. Clàudia clears her throat. "Hola," she greets warmly, though the woman remains defensive, crossing her arms over her chest and looking more irritated with every passing second we stand here before her.

"Hola," says the woman, grating it out. "¿Qué pasa?"

"Nada. Do you know who lived here before you?"

Her eyebrows furrow, and I assume she is not going to answer our question at all, growing ever-so-slightly upset and tugging Clàudia's hand to tell her we should just leave. Although, my... Clàudia possesses a lot more patience.

"I am new here. This apartment has been empty for years." I tell myself that it is okay. I don't need to know who my father is, not really. I've been fine without him so far. The woman opens her door more, however. There may be a little hope, though I don't perk up for fear of being wrong. "But you could ask the downstairs neighbours. They have lived here for a while – much longer than me, at least. Why?"

"We are just... searching for something. Thank you for your help!" Clàudia is quick to bid her farewell and bolt down the stairs, as if this is her own family we are on the hunt for. The woman blinks at me, probably wondering if she is dreaming this whole thing, and I shoot her a nervous smile before chasing after my partner-in-crime, hoping she hasn't fallen over and injured her ankle once more.

"Where are you?" I call out, panicking as I reach the floor below the Chinese woman without any sign of her. "Where are you?" I shout again, not caring if I am disturbing the residents.

A door, looking significantly more ancient than the woman's, opens, and Clàudia's head pops through the gap. I sigh in relief, and then I realise that she is in someone else's apartment. "Found the downstairs neighbours in question," she tells me with a grin, her arm surging outwards from the door, hand grabbing the front of my jumper to pull me inside with her.

Before I can chide her for breaking and entering, she grabs my shoulders and squares my body, placing me in front of an elderly couple who are sitting on their tired sofa with amused smiles. They seem to be unbothered by the action. In fact, they seem to be expecting it.

"S'assembla a la seva mare," the old man says to his wife, though I cannot understand him. Anyway, it seems to be a private comment, as his wife then nods with a widening grin, standing up unsteadily. She takes a few steps forward, holding onto the chestnut side table for support.