𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 || j. daniel atlas

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

Alena's papers passed the immigration checks and she moved into the apartment above Merritt less than a week later. She was a little suspicious about how quickly she had been able to acquire the property, until she stepped through the door.

The place had clearly been uninhabited for a while. The faint smell of mould and damp laced the air, tickling the hairs inside her nose. On first inspection, the hallway was clean, the scent of mould intensifying as she passed the bathroom door. Alena peered into the bedroom, noting that the mattress needed replacing, but her heart gave a little swell at the sight of the bedside tables and chest of draws.

At the end of the corridor, the space opened up into a kitchen diner. The cupboards were outdated and the tables and chairs were hideous, but Alena loved it all. Tears prickled her eyes. She smiled, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work.

Alena, who lacked possessions in any great number or value, took less than a day to unpack and organise her things. There were a few department stores closer to the centre of town and on the taxi drive back to the apartment, bank account screaming, Alena sat in a nest of carrier bags. The mattress that she had ordered wouldn't arrive for a couple of days, so a mattress protector and bedsheet would have to do.

Next, she scrubbed the bathroom within an inch of its life, a cloth wrapped around her face to choke the potent vapours of the moulder cleaner. She cleaned the kitchen and the bedroom, her hands blistered and raw by the time the sun began to set. After making a few phone calls to sort out the wi-fi and television, Alena kicked off her shoes and lay back on her bed. She closed her eyes, blocked out images of empty cupboards, and ran her hands over her new cotton bedsheets.

Then came a knock at the door. Alena groaned, curling up for a moment, but the knocking persisted. She stood, stretched, straightened out the duvet, and went to greet her first guest.

"Woah!" Merritt flinched when Alena opened the dear. "Did you soak everything in bleach?"

"Pretty much," Alena sighed, stepping aside to let him in. He was carrying a bottle of champagne.

"You got champagne glasses?"

"Just the regular kind," Alena said, taking the only two from the kitchen cupboard. "I hope you didn't splash out on that."

"Oh no, I thought I'd give you a taste of something cheap and American."

"I thought I got that when I met you."

"Oh, she's mean, ladies and gentlemen," Merritt said to the empty living area and Alena laughed. "Wow, you've actually done a great job with this place. You'll have to come downstairs and do mine."

"Yeah, I don't think so." Merritt popped open the champagne and poured it into the glasses. "Come on, I'm not driving!" Alena said, Merritt smiling as he topped up her glass.

Instead of sitting down, Merritt took up his glass and began a slow, calculated walk around the three rooms, inspecting her handwork. Alena followed a little behind him, sipping her champagne. It was the first time she'd ever tried it, so any cheapness and Americanness didn't phase her.

"Are you trying to mess with me or something?" Alena asked, as Merritt hadn't spoken for a while.

"I'm just trying to figure out if your apartment's bigger than mine," he mused, stopping in the bedroom doorway and flicking on the light.

Alena wasn't sure why she said what she said next, it just slipped out. "That's the first time I've had a proper bed since..." She took a quick gulp of champagne, the glass now almost empty. "Since I was a child."