The morning rain had slackened off enough to nothing but harmless drizzling, leaving the sidewalk's slick and gritty sheen shining up as the sun slid from its gray cover of clouds. Around him life was returning from their escape from the downpour, shopkeepers sweeping water into gutters, the citizens of this neighborhood no longer huddling under their umbrellas, slowing their hectic walks to a much more leisurely pace that one finds on Saturday afternoons. Music floated down from some open window, notes of what may have been jazz or blues meshing with the soft purr of passing cars and the thick rumble of delivery trucks taking wares to their respected businesses. A cry to be taken back to Birdland crushed down amongst the progress of the day.
Looking up at the brickwork building, as he exited from the van that held his few preciously acquired possessions, Jonathan couldn't help but smile to himself. Was this how an actor felt at the promise of a new production? A familiar trill he had once experienced with the first class he had ever taught, the unsure flutter, a nervous feeling waiting in the wings to sweep in and drag him off kicking and screaming into the urges of snarling phobics and paranoids.
It was a rather decent building he had to admit, taking his mind off of the clatter inside, certainly out of the way from the busy main streets, far on the outer rims of the Upper East. Certainly a step up from his last place of residence, most likely filled with decent people who lived out decent unimportant little lives - regardless of how hard they try to keep in the screams each and every morning.
Completely a pleasant looking neighborhood nestled off on a dead end street. Almost defying the awareness that there was a rampant problem with crime that screamed its existence into your face at almost every street corner. It seemed that they actually made it a point to deny such a fate, it was far too good to pass over. Bless that old girl and the library service for seniors for leading him to such a treasured find.
Clean, simple – a perfect place to set up again if any it seemed as he struggled with the first of a few awkward boxes of books and otherwise sparse personal effects from the back of the van. Clasping the cardboard box tightly up the stoop and past the door, than up the first of the three sets of stairs, their wood creaking occasionally under his feet. From behind him came the soft echoes of gossip from the other occupants of the apartment building as they stood in their doorways and in the halls, no reason to be there other than the lurking moments of weekend boredom, eyeing him with what he hoped was simple innocent curiosity.
Not that he would really stand out for those really looking, other than being tall, a touch on the thin side and painfully average in appearance, details would be glazed over after a while. He had allowed his hair to lose its darkened dyes, but kept it tamed in a conservative style. The familiar round spectacles lurked at hand's reach in his breast pocket, and today he had opted for the uncomfortable protection of contact lenses, his normally blue eyes covered by a muddy brown.
Oh the urge to rub his eyes and stifle the itching was driving him up a wall.
But he was aware of their eyes on him, more so than one would lend for comfort, and for a moment worried that someone would place his face from somewhere else.
The conversation between two women on the second landing met his ears clearly, even as he passed them and continued up the stairs, pausing long enough to gain better purchase upon the cardboard box.
"Hmm, that's the fellow moving into 44, right?"
"Looks like it. Good thing they're finally moving someone new in so soon."
"Poor thing to happen to old Mrs. Seidman."
"Heart attack wasn't it?"
"Walter thinks it was. Jess was in absolute hysterics, but she won't talk about it. The poor dear found Marie on the living room floor – probably stone dead and white as a sheet. Such a shame, whatever it was, hopefully it wasn't painful."
He couldn't help but let a low chuckle escape at hearing that last bit, covering it up with a soft cough. Considering the look on that old biddy's face, I would think any type of pain would have been the last thing that was on her mind. True, it had been a rushed job - thankfully the old girl had a weak enough heart. He had found that with a good dose of fear, anyone's heart could give out with the proper urging. And she had to go, that had been decided by the fourth visit he had made with her book order from the library, one good deed deserving another, honestly it had been her time to leave the mortal coil to make room for another with promise and vision.
Something like this deserved to be rushed to before anything else was to spoil such pristine grounds - sometimes all one could do though was merely speed along an opening for such an opportunity.
"Poor dear. She must be.... broken.... close, weren't they?" Their chattering voices left his ears, only climbing stairs – exactly how did that old woman manage so many damned stairs anyway?
Perhaps it had been an act of mercy as well considering how much his own arms were beginning to ache – and this being the first trip up with a heavy load.
"Well – Mr. Mather, good morning." A voice at the top of the stairs quickly yanked him out of his eves dropping and mulling; "Do you need any help with that?" Looking up he quickly sighted the owner of the voice sitting upon the last stair of the third landing, waiting for him. Staring back at a rather average woman, short mousy brown hair ending with soft wisps around her face and neck, healthy enough color to her cheeks, arms resting atop her knees. Perhaps in her early thirties as she stared down at him with a pleasant enough looking smile on her face. Quickly, almost down to a knee jerk reaction her hand darted up to push a few short locks that had escaped from the loose sweep across her forehead. So this was the welcome wagon... Miss Hall, his new and only neighbor on the top floor.
He took a breath, shifting the box in his hold. "No, I'm all right, but you might want to move. I'd huh-hate to have struck down a good Sah-Samaritan on my first day." That accursed stutter met his ears, just as it had when she had shown him the apartment. At first he had considered trying to keep a better control over the small quirk, but it had managed to still creep out - perhaps as instinct - like a chameleon's will to blend in at the approach of some larger predator. She seemed to relax at hearing it however, her shoulders falling ever so slightly forward, possibly thinking he was as nervous as she appeared to be.
"It wouldn't be the first time it's happened. You'll get used to seeing folks tearing up and down the halls and stairs on a daily basis – especially with summer vacation coming up - its if they apologize for knocking into you that you should consider a rare occurrence." All of that said in almost a singular breath as she got to her feet - she certainly had a cheerful energy; that was for certain.
Perhaps it was a good thing, considering last time he had seen her it had been knee deep in a small herd of milling children. She could be as happy as she wanted, as long as it kept those little ones out of his way, the better.
Quickly she moved to open the door to number forty-four, considering his full arms – she deposited the set of copied keys atop the box, and stepped aside to let him enter his new home.
His new beginning.