That was the problem. Maite was ridiculous and worse. She was pusillanimous, dull, utterly mediocre. Once you added all that together coupled with her lack of initiative, there really wasn’t any reason to consider another job.
She stared out the window as the rain fell.
She should make herself a cup of coffee, that’s what she should do. She should read her old comic books and listen to tangos. Play Carlos Gardel and songs about love and heartbreak. But as Maite sat there, with the rain falling, crumpling the newspaper in her hands, she felt no desire to do any of that.
Maite grabbed her coat and decided to go out. She’d walk. That’s what was best. Go for a walk, flee her hideous little apartment. The air was stale in this room, and she didn’t want to think about jobs or requirements or anything of the sort.
As soon as she stepped into the hallway she saw the man standing in front of Leonora’s door. He turned his head quickly and looked at her. She recognized him as the man in the picture she had been admiring before, but his hair was a little longer and he was wearing a red jacket.
“Oh, it’s you,” she blurted out stupidly, and the man frowned.
“Have we met?” he asked, looking surprised.
“No, no,” she said quickly shaking her head, trying to fix her blunder. “I’ve seen you in a picture with Leonora.”
“You know Leonora?”
“Sort of. I’m watching her cat for her. She’ll be back tomorrow. Were you looking for her?”
He nodded.
Well, of course he is, you dummy, she thought.Why else would he be here?
She wondered who had let him in. The tenants were supposed to be careful about letting strangers into the building, and there was the superintendent on the first floor who gossiped about everyone, but she supposed someone must have been lax about the entrance policy. People were always doing that, holding doors open even if they shouldn’t.
“She said she’d be around.”
“I don’t think she’ll be back today,” Maite said, reaching into her purse, pretending to look for her keys so she could lock her door. She looked slowly, as if she couldn’t find them, hoping he’d say something else.
He did.
“If you’re watching her cat then you must have the key to her apartment. I was supposed to pick something up from her. I think she left it inside for me.”
“You really should ask the super about that.”
“She borrowed my camera, and it must be inside her apartment. Maybe you could open the door for me? It would take a minute.”
“Well…”
“Forty-five seconds. If it’s not on the table I’ll zip right out. You can come in with me if you want.” There was an edge of anxiety to his words, but also a heavy dose of charm.
“I don’t even know your name,” Maite said, and congratulated herself on being crafty enough to come up with that line.
The man smiled. He stretched out a hand. “Emilio Lomelí.”
“I’m Maite.”
“I realize you were headed somewhere, but it would take a minute.”
“I’m not in a rush.”
She took out Leonora’s keys and opened the door, and they walked into the apartment. He seemed to know his way around the place and went into the bedroom, opening the drawer of a tall white dresser. Leonora observed him from the doorway, trying to think of something else she might say, something witty and interesting.
“What type of camera is it?”
“It’s a Canon F-1. Are you interested in photography?”
“No, not really,” Maite admitted.
