A Nighttime Visit

Joseph, a short, round, older man of seventy, sat in the lobby of an apartment complex in the West Village in Manhattan. His round, shiny head sat atop his round body. The lobby was his domain as the doorman. And the late-night shift had been quiet due to the pandemic at large. Joseph sat, slumped over his desk, his mask covering his silver stubble. He breathed heavily into his paper mask, fogging up his glasses, which sat below the bridge of his nose. He removed the wired frames off his face and gingerly wiped down the round glass with his sleeve, ridding the pair of fingerprints and fog.

Typically, the area was lively on a Saturday, but it was almost midnight - 11:52 pm - and the full moon illuminated the now-empty downtown street. Restaurants and bars had been closed for nearly an hour following city laws to contain the virus's spread. 

Joseph readjusted his spectacles behind his ears and glanced at the security camera footage on the screen beside him. A black Mercedes Benz with yellow Jersey plates had parked out front.

It was unlikely a delivery, as most places in the city had closed for the night. It was also unlikely a tenant, either, as Joseph knew everyone in the building and their vehicles. He had worked there for thirty-four years, ever since he was displaced post-explosion at Chornobyl from his hometown of Pripyat, Russia. Although he was a man of few words, he was thought lovable and kind by the tenants. No, Joseph decided; it was not a tenant. But then, who could it be, he wondered? He sat in his comfortable silence, pondering. The older man preferred the quiet and immensely enjoyed the new normal where his late-night shifts, once rowdy and wild like the West Village, had become ghost-like. 

Meanwhile, in the unidentified car outside sat Chester, a twenty-something-year-old caucasian male, above average in height yet average in looks. A ray of light from the moon cast a spotlight on his face, which was oval-shaped. His narrow lips outlined his off-white teeth, covered in a thin, plastic Invisalign mold. Once blonde a few months prior, his hair had darkened to a brownish color in the fall. His eyes were a piercing baby blue, their gaze locked on the building. He dressed for comfort; a white long-sleeve hoodie, basketball shorts, and Nike slides over his mismatched socks.

Chester had made the trip from New Jersey, less than an hour's drive typically, but on such a slow night with no traffic and few other cars on the highway, it took twenty minutes. He parked the car a few feet away, giving him an optimally distant view of the front awning. He had been here before, as a guest, many times in the past, pre-COVID and pre-restraining order. 

As Chester sat in his car, fond memories of the apartment flooded his consciousness. Months ago, he would frequent this building back when he and Lukas were still best friends. He wrapped his fingers around his keychain, which dangled off the one in the ignition. Their friendship formed at their workplace, a group fitness class in which one alternates between runs on the treadmill and circuits on the floor with weights and bands. The "bromance" developed out of necessity and convenience as the two would pass the time together between their unconventional and sporadic schedules. Of course, fitness professionals' schedules can be brutal. New instructors teach undesirable, less popular shifts, like opening and closing studio times and random filler classes that remain empty in the afternoons. 

Chester huffed and puffed like the big, bad wolf. His grip tightened around the grooves of the steering wheel, and his baby blue eyes narrowed as the color drained from his face, turning him white as a ghost. He removed his dominant hand from the tightly grasped wheel and began swiping on his phone, scrolling through Instagram, searching for clues. Lukas and Stephanie had posted pictures in Central Park earlier that day at a particular spot in Sheep's Meadow. The images did not have people, but Chester inferred the two were together. 

"Why would he do this to me?" Chester muttered to himself as he clenched his jaw, then his fist. He wanted to tell the world how Stephanie had broken his heart - how he suffered immensely because of her rejection. He wanted to relive those magical six weeks, among the best of his life, and how he would do anything to have her back, as he was in love with her. And now Lukas was with her. 

Chester shook his head as he clicked through the photos and said, "Dude is breaking the bro code." The hairs began to stand up on his neck as he waited apprehensively, but for what? No one was quite sure, not even Chester himself. Coming here had been his instinct, yet he had not thought about what he would do once he arrived at the destination. He dialed Lukas' number but was sent to voicemail. Chester rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, one at a time, not taking his eyes off the front of the building, which stood seemingly dormant. He was positive Lukas was there. A feeling of rage washed over him, flushing his cheeks, his heart beating its drum-like solo as he imagined the two of them, Lukas and Stephanie, together since he decided this must be the case. 

Suddenly, Joseph stood up and slowly walked along the post-war building's marble floor, casting his short, round shadow on the wall nearest to the closet with the cleaning supplies. It was compact and somewhat crowded, storing a bucket and a mop, rolls of paper towels, rubber gloves, a vacuum, and bottles of extra purell to refill the dispensers. Joseph maneuvered through the tight space, pulling out a broom and dustpan, and shuffled outside to sweep. His head drooped to the ground as he swept away leaves and litter from the front walkway and beside the streetlamps. Perhaps, he didn't notice Chester.

Chester turned off the Black Mercedes and exhaled deeply through his clenched jaw. He adjusted his white hoodie to cover his brownish locks and pulled his light blue surgical mask over his crooked nose. Shutting the car door softly, he slithered towards Joseph with urgency as if not to make a sound.

"Is Lukas home? 2B," said Chester. 

Joseph lifted his head from his task, and their eyes met. He furrowed his bushy white brow and grunted as he gestured for Chester to follow him inside. Out of caution, he glanced over his shoulder for a panoramic view of the scene before he entered the building. Chester looked to see if anyone was lurking behind but saw no one. Joseph, returning to his slump behind the desk, looked up at Chester, forgetting what he had asked. He raised his prominent eyebrows, inviting Chester to speak.

"Is Lukas home? Apartment 2B," Chester repeated.

Joseph reached his arm out to dial upstairs. Ring ring ring. No answer. He shrugged and turned to Chester to give him the news. 

"Not home. So sorry." 

The color began to return to Chester's cheeks, and he felt himself heating up. Where could Lukas be if he wasn't home? Certainly not at a bar or a restaurant, as those had closed for the night. Chester pulled down his mask, revealing his prominent profile to Joseph and the security cameras in the lobby. 

"Can you call his cell phone?" Chester whispered to the older man. 

Joseph shook his head no. With fists clenched in frustration, Chester hurried out of the building and returned to the comfort of his car. The street was quiet and still, and no other vehicle - neither Uber nor a yellow taxi - had driven past the building since Chester's arrival. The young man, discouraged, pounded his fist on the wheel, blaring his horn, and breaking the silence. The noise startled Joseph, who jolted forward and dropped his glasses. Chester exhaled a sigh of defeat inside the car, and his fingers found their way back to the familiar grooves of the wheel. 

"He's fucking dead," Chester said aloud, revving the engine and speeding away. His black Bendz rolled down the street, ignoring the stop sign ahead. He didn't notice the parked car in front of him a few streets down when he crashed into it, totaling the car. Joseph had fallen asleep on the job and didn't hear the bang this time. A few minutes later, as Chester began to bleed out, Lukas came home, crawled under the covers, and went to sleep.