Rivers of Fate

Where Only Wishes May Travel

Xia slipped into her sneakers by the apartment door.

Both kitchen light and radio snapped off when she stepped out into the basement hallway.

When the apartment door across the way opened just as she went to lock hers, she tensed involuntarily, her knee pushing further in to keep her door ajar. Old reaction... old habit... from her days back at the youth center: Always keep your door cracked open until the very last second before you lock it to leave, in case you have to escape back inside real quick.

"Ah! Voilà ma petite Xia. There is my little Xia. I was coming to knock. Would you pick up my lotto ticket on your way back, ma petite?" A crinkled five-dollar bill was held out to her by an equally crinkled, veiny hand.

"No problem, Mister Antoine." Xia took the money. "Same numbers as always?"

Her elderly neighbour graced her with one of his charming smiles topped with a mischievous wink.

"But of course. But of course. When I win, I will take you back to France with me!"

He blew across the steaming cup of café au lait in his other hand. 'This is the real coffee, Xia. Not that eau de vaiselle--that dishwater--you serve where you work,' he'd told her once.

The snowy-haired Frenchman was wearing his burgundy housecoat over his clothes, a blue wool scarf that matched his remarkably clear blue eyes wrapped around his neck. The building's furnace wasn't working properly, barely delivering heat at times. The crisp October night temperatures had begun to chill the inside of the building.

A streak of black shot across the carpet.

"Ah-ah-ah. Nice try, Maurice." Xia blocked her neighbour's cat who tried to dash into her apartment with her foot, finally closing and locking the door to a plaintive brrrt. Mr. Antoine chuckled. "Maurice knows you have a guest in your apartment and wishes to say a proper bonjour-hello."

Xia cringed. "Is the bird disturbing you during the day, Mr. Antoine?"

The Frenchman took a frothy sip of his coffee. "Not at all. Not at all. You know my hearing, she is not so good. It is Maurice who gets excited from the sound."

The black cat butted up against Xia's calves, purring and rubbing himself against her. You old flirt. Trying to seduce me into letting you in, are you?

At the door to the stairwell, Xia smacked its bar handle with both palms, then shoved with her hip to get it to open enough to pass. The bottom of the door jammed on the torn carpeting of the hallway lately, making it impossible to fully open every time. Mr. Antoine came over and held it open for her as best he could one-handed while she squeezed through. At the same time, Maurice slipped past her ankles and up the stairs, knowing Xia was heading outside and would let him out.

The stale smell of cigarette smoke mixed with lemon floor cleaner assailed Xia's nose when she grabbed her old ten-speeder leaning against the stairwell railing.

"Lucy is sneaking cigarettes again," Xia said over her shoulder with a crinkled brow. The bike tires bounced on the steps as she hauled the ten-speeder up the steps with her.

"Oui, Lucy. She scolds me for drinking my glass of Cabernet Sauvignon before bed and yet she is sneaking the cigarettes." Mr. Antoine thumped his chest. "Red wine is good for the circulation, Xia. It keeps one young and vigorous!" Her basement neighbour closed the stairwell door before Xia could come up with some witty response.

Once at the top of the steps on the main level, Xia couldn't help but look at the door of Mrs. Chen's apartment... vacant apartment. Sadness welled up as it always did when she thought about her former landlady whose sudden passing six months before had left all the tenants in complete shock. Ownership of the building had changed over to Mrs. Chen's only family, her son Kai.