The Woman Who Fell To Earth

Chapter 2

Together they walked with firm, determined steps, toward the street, toward the city. Arthur held his head high with David by his side, and longed for looks from strangers now, anxious to show off this beautiful creature by his side. This beautiful creature who held his hand, not the other way around. But the night was late, the darkness thick, and the crowds thin.

They approached Arthur's apartment building, a three-story red brick square with square windows overlooking the casual street, one of three red brick squares in a row. The black iron street lamps, a relic from quieter days, flickered their blue gas flames to illuminate the walk.

Oh, how Arthur wished his neighbor Rip Shadows, the blonde rock star in Apartment 2C, who came home frequently with random leggy ladies on his arm, could see him now, walking up the concrete steps with this beautiful spirit holding right to his hand. Or sweet Mrs. Pritchard, the octogenarian in 1F who was always saying, "If I was forty years younger," always looking for eligible young ladies, always saying he was a catch. If she could see me now! he thought, what joy it would bring her. He was tempted to make a racket, maybe knock over the trash cans, cause a stir to wake the neighbors so they would peek out their windows and see him standing here hand in hand with none other than David Bowie, illuminated like a plastic ghost in the gas light.

David gasped. "Oh, Arthur, your home is magnificent!" her eyes taking in brick by brick.

"It's not all mine," Arthur said, misunderstanding her awe. "I just have one apartment." He was suddenly nervous for her to see his apartment. He couldn't remember how he left it. He wasn't a slob, but he wasn't particularly meticulous, definitely not stylish, and here he brings the most stylish of all fashionistas to his very ordinary home.

He hesitated to let go of David's hand so he could unlock the door. So frightened he was that if he let go, she would vanish, or ascend back to Heaven or the stars. He would not have let go for hours except David nudged him anxiously, saying, "Come on, let's go inside and warm up."

Arthur reluctantly let go of her icy hand, watching to make sure she did not dissipate. She did not. He exhaled and took the keys from his pocket and unlocked the front door.

David took in every inch of the lobby, inhaling the black and white tiled floor, the row of mailboxes, the hall of doors to Mrs. Pritchard's and others' homes on the first floor.

"All these doors. All these possibilities," she exclaimed. "Can we pick any one?"

"Um, no, we can only go to mine. It's upstairs. Come on." He reached out to take her hand again, but she didn't notice. She was too interested in the names on the mailboxes, moving her lips as she read each one silently. "Oh look, there's another Arthur here. Arthur Dott-wee-ler," she read.

"That's me," he said.

"But, you said your door was upstairs."

Arthur looked at her. At the mailboxes. "Oh, no," he explained. "That's not my door. That's just where they put my mail."

"Huh," said David, "of course."

"Come on, let's go upstairs." Arthur extended his hand again, but again she did not notice, but followed absently, still staring at the name on the mailbox.

They took the wooden stairway up one flight and down the hall to Arthur's apartment 2B. He fumbled the door unlocked with clumsy fingers and held his breath as if he, too, were going to see how he lived for the first time.

He flipped on the light switch and David gasped again. "It's so liberating," she exclaimed.

Arthur looked but did not see what she saw. He only saw a bachelor's living space. The hardwood floors could use a damp mop, but there wasn't anything grossly out of place. It was a modest apartment, living area with a gray hand-me-down sofa, ottoman coffee table, television, a pair of black leather armchairs. The kitchenette was big enough for a breakfast table for two, and he had cleaned all of the dishes and stacked them away neatly before he left. His distaste for rodents did not allow him to leave dishes in the sink for long. Especially for that long.