The Apartment

Chapter 2

I quickly brushed the thought away, it was silly. There are no such thing as ghosts, I chided myself. Plus, the apartment was lovely in the most perfect location one could dreame of. Light entered from the large window, flooding the entire apartment. Not to mention that same window had a full view of the Eiffel Tower, straight on. The place was furnished with antiques, all a different story the landlords were happy to share. They were oh so kind, and even kinder when  I took the apartment on the spot. No thought was needed, I was just so taken with the charm of the place, and relieved my long and exhausting house hunt had finally come to a close. I was to move in the next day.

I struggled to fit my massive amounts of luggage into the tiny "four" person elevator (two people alone would feel claustrophobic in such a small space) but somehow I managed. I settled in quickly, there not being much to unpack other than clothes. The location was perfect, with a starbucks across the street and a fairly large mall right down the street, I felt right at home. 

One morning, I ran across the street to pick up a chocolate croissant for breakfast. The skies were stormy and rain was pouring down. It was windy and cold and my umbrella decided to flip inside out just as I began to step onto the street. Blinded by the rain, I staggered, clumsily falling into the arms of a stanger. The man who I had fallen into was trying hard to hold back a smile. I was so flustered I could hardly manage a desole as I gathered myself. I became even more flustered when an impatient driver honked at me and I remembered I was stading in the middle of the street. I looked up and tried to compose myself as I scrambled across the street.

 Finally I made it back home. An excursion that should've taken no more than 7 minutes felt like an eternity all thanks to that dumb umbrella. All I had wanted was to curl up with a nice mug of tea, my delicious pastry and a good book, but at that moment I was honsestly feeling so attacked. Fornunately my morning wasn't completely ruined and each sip of tea lestened my mortification. When I finished, I got up to put my mug in the dishwasher. I turned it on. Nothing. Fuck. I tried pressing the on button again. Again, nothing. Shit. I turn to my right, to the circut breaker on the wall. Nothing was out of place. No, no. I frantically pressed the button a few more times before giving up in annoyance. First week and already I have managed to fuck something up. Sighing, I called the landlord. The woman, Caroline, picked up and I explained to her in french that the diswasher appeared to be broken. She was very nice about it and said that she would get it replaced as soon as possible. A wave of relief washed over me. But then I remembered, the issue with the keys. You see, the previous tenants had dissapeared mysteriously, taking the keys with them. Obviously, living alone in a new city was scary enough, even without random stangers out there with the keys to my new apartment. After explaining my mild anxiety about the keys, Caroline said that she could get the door replaced. In France, there is no such thing as simply changing the lock. There is a whole system that requires the door to be opened up and taken apart. And it was extremely expensive. But that was going to have to do. 

The dishwasher came a few days later. A man came to install it. I left the front door open in case we needed ventilation in the apartment. He told me it was going to take awhile. I said I had time. It was at that moment, as the man began to intall the new dishwasher, the door across the hall opened. I looked up and sure enough, it was the man I ran into in the middle of the street. I recognized him immediately, even though I didn't have much time to spectate him during our brief meeting. God, I hoped he wouldn't recognize me. That hope was shattered as he covered the distance from his apartment to mine. My face burned as I walked to meet him at my door.

"Have we met?" he grinned. I could immediately tell he remembered me.

"No, I believe not," I feign innocence. 

"No, surely we met, though maybe not formally," he winked. I swallowed. Being blinded by the rain, I hadn't noticed just how cute he was. His hair was long for a guy, but not too scruffy, and his eyes twinkled as he spoke. "My name is Noah, et vous?" 

"I am Ellie," I say as I began to reach out my hand for him to shake. I quickly stopped myself as I remembered that they don't do that in France. 

"Where are you from, Ali?" he asked me. Crap, he noticed my bad american accent. This is why I hate speaking french to french people. 

"California, but I just moved here," I respond. My face was still burning. I hoped it wasn't too noticable.

"Oh cool. It was very nice to meet you Ali," he said, switching into english. Normally I hated when french people switch into english, thinking I couldn't keep up, but with him I didn't mind. His accent was thick but, not going to lie, charming. I went back inside my apartment, smiling to myself. I was sure he recognized me but at least he wasn't being a dick about it. The repair man left sooner than I had expected him too, and I was relieved when the dishwasher turned on.