Scars of the pst

1.2

— Wait. Who is Guilherme? — I ask.

— He lives across the hall. Whatever you do, don’t open the door again until I call you back.

Leandro hangs up, and I lean against the apartment door.

I’ve been in São Tomé for half an hour, and I’m already causing problems. Numbers. I’ll be lucky if he lets me stay here until I find a job. I hope it doesn’t take too long since I applied for three nursing positions at the nearest hospital. It might mean working nights, weekends, or both, but I’ll take anything to avoid using my savings while I get back to studying.

My phone rings. I swipe the screen and answer.

— Hello?

— Cleopatra?

— Yes — I reply, wondering why he always needs to confirm it’s me. He called me, so who else could be answering and has the same voice?

— I talked to Gustavo.

— Great. Is he going to help me get my stuff?

— Not exactly — says Leandro. — I kind of need you to do me a big favor.

I rest my head against the door again. I have a feeling the next few months will be filled with annoying favors since he thinks he’s doing me a huge favor by letting me stay here. Washing dishes? Fine. Washing Leandro’s clothes? Okay. Shopping for Leandro? Sure.

— What do I need to do? — I ask. — Does Guilherme need your help?

— The neighbor? — I pause as the realization hits. I close my eyes. — Leandro, please don’t tell me the guy you called to protect me from the drunk is the drunk himself.

Leandro sighs. — I need you to unlock the door and let him in. Let him crash on the couch. I’ll be there first thing in the morning. When he’s sober, he’ll know where he is and go straight home.

I shake my head. — What kind of apartment complex is this? Am I going to have to deal with drunks every day when I get home?

Long pause. — Did he try to touch you?

— Touch might be a bit strong. He grabbed my ankle. — Leandro lets out a sigh. — Just do this for me, Cleopatra. Call me back when you’ve managed to get him and your stuff inside.

— Alright — I grumble, recognizing the concern in his voice. I hang up and open the door. The drunk man is lying on his side, with his phone sliding from his hand and landing on the floor.

The drunk man’s phone fell next to his head on the floor. I turn him onto his back and look at him. His eyes slowly open, trying to focus on me, but they soon close again.

— You’re not Leandro — he mutters.

— No, I’m not. But I’m your new neighbor, and it looks like you’re about to owe me about fifty cups of sugar.

I pull him by the shoulders and try to sit him up, but he can’t. In fact, he doesn’t seem to be able to move much now. How does someone get this drunk?

I grab his hands and pull him, inch by inch, into the apartment, stopping when he’s far enough in for me to close the door. I retrieve my things from outside and shut the door with a push. I grab a pillow from the couch and turn his head to the side in case he vomits while he sleeps.

And that’s all the help he’ll be getting from me.

I leave him on the living room floor while I take a look around the apartment. The living room alone could fit three times in the living room of Leandro’s last apartment. The dining area is integrated with the living room, but the kitchen is separated by a half-wall. The room has several modern paintings and a thick light brown couch that goes well with the vibrant artworks. The last time I was here, he had a futon, a pouf, and posters of models on the walls.

It seems my cousin has finally grown up.

— Very impressive, Leandro — I say aloud as I walk through the rooms, turning on the lights and inspecting what will be my temporary home. I kind of hate that it’s so nicely done. It will be hard to want to look for my own place when I have enough money.

I go to the kitchen and open the fridge. I find a row of condiments in the door, a pizza box on the middle shelf, and a completely empty gallon of milk on the top shelf.

Of course, he doesn’t have any food. I didn’t expect him to have changed that much.

I grab a bottle of water and leave the kitchen, looking for a bedroom to settle into for the next few months. There are two bedrooms, so I choose the one that isn’t Leandro’s and place my suitcase on the bed. I have three more suitcases and six boxes in the car, not to mention the clothes on hangers, but I won’t worry about that tonight.

Leandro said he would be back in the morning, so I’ll deal with it when he arrives.

I change into sweatpants and a tank top and brush my teeth before getting ready for bed. Normally, I would be nervous about having a stranger in the same apartment, but I feel like I don’t need to worry. Leandro wouldn’t ask me to help someone if he thought it could be a threat to me. What confuses me is that if this behavior is common for Guilherme, I’m surprised Leandro asked me to let him in.