023 POV sukee at the door - 1362

I swear my heartbeat actually stops for a moment when I hear the knocking on my front door. The man cuts me a death look. We both freeze. We both hold our breathes. Part of me hopes that whoever it is will give up and go away. But I know that's wishing for too much right now. After a few seconds I'm proven right when they knock again. This time, longer and louder. I have a terrible feeling that it's Sukee, the superintendent. There's a moment of silence then more knocking, this time it's so loud you'd call it banging not knocking. 

'Susan? You home? We need talk.'

My worst fear confirmed. It's Sukee. My sixty-something year old Korean superintendent-come-landlord. Sukee is a no-bullshit woman. From what I could gather from her broken English and the few strange conversations we've had I think her extended family owns the building. She just runs it and draws a wage from the rents. When I first met her to view the apartment she was unlike any other prospective landlord I'd ever encountered. Mostly, letting-agents and private landlords wear flashy fake smiles and exude over the top positive energy to encourage you to take on the exorbitantly priced lease. Sukee was the opposite. She smoked a cigarette the entire time she showed me the apartment. She didn't try to be my friend, there were zero fake smiles, absolutely no small talk, and she laid everything out on the table upfront, even the broken elevator. She said it's not going to be fixed, so don't bother asking. She pointed out all the things that were busted in the apartment. The toilet doesn't flush if you press the full-flush button, but the half flush works fine. Only two of the stove's four hotplates work, and the cooking extractor is touch and go, sometimes works, sometimes doesn't. She told me that the bathroom has a leaky faucet I'm welcome to fix at my own expense which I did because the constant dripping got annoying. And finally, the door to the bedroom won't stay closed unless you pull upwards quite hard on the handle as you close it. 

She finished this laundry list of things that are never going to get fixed unless I pay for them with a very blunt, 'You want it, you take it? If not, you go now.'

There was something very refreshing about her style that I admired. Normally, I wouldn't have taken on a lease to such a place, but the rent reflects the apartments wounds so I decided to take it on the spot. 

There was no contract to sign. No credit check. No bullshit. I pay rent in cash - only cash - every week which makes me sure that Sukee would have a hefty tax bill if anyone ever decided to rat on her to the IRS. Before taking my money she explicitly told me that I was the only to live in the apartment. I could not sublet, and I couldn't have anyone else staying here long term. I recently told her that my daughter Lucy would be coming to stay with me for a short while and she was fine about that. 

All in all, I like Sukee for her brazen approach to life, but right now, she's the last person I want knocking on my door given the circumstance. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

'Suan, I know you there, open up! What this in hallway? Look like blood?!'

I look to the man, unsure what to do. Should I respond or just try and ignore her? He whispers tersely, 'Get rid of her, or I will.'

I nod to myself, approach the door and brace for the worst. I'm unsure what to say or how to try and sell this situation. As my mind races for an angle to try and play, something from one of my business lectures springs to mind - the key to success in all business interactions is confidence. Low or wavering conviction will be quickly identified and exploited.

With this in mind I open the door and do my best to feign confidence. 'Sukee, hey, sorry I was just...' I gesture into my apartment unsure how to finish that sentence. I feel my confidence falter. I'm already failing.  

Her face creases with worry as she takes in the cut on my forehead. 'What happen?' She says gesturing first to my cut then to the blood on the landing. 

I try and waive it off like it's not important, 'This? It's nothing. I fell, had too much to drink.'

'You need doctor.' Sukee correctly advises. Yes, indeed, I need a doctor. I also need police. I also need to be away from this maniac of a man who is controlling my every move. There's a huge part of me that wants to run out into the hallway to try and flee. Perhaps this desire becomes evident on my face as I notice in my peripheral vision the man raise his gun and aim it directly at me.

'This? No, it looks worse than it is. I don't think it's worth going to the ER.' I reply. 

Sukee looks from my forehead to the smeared blood that traces all the way across the landing. I can almost hear the cogs in her head working as she realises something isn't quite right.

'All this? From that?' She says, gesturing wildly at the splattered blood to my two inch wound.

'It was bleeding a lot more, I managed to get it to stop just now.'

Sukee regards me strangely. She knows what I'm saying is as authentic as a three dollar bill. 

'Who your friend?' She asks, accusingly, 'He do this to you?'

'Friend?' I say, hoping I won't have to admit there's anyone else in the apartment. 

'No bullshit me. I hear you coming up. Very loud. You always like mouse. Never hear you. Someone with you.'

I have to give it to Sukee. She's good at her job. 

In the corner of my eye I watch the man edging his way towards me. One hand permanently planted on the wall to help him stay upright as he moves my way. A chill races down my spine at the thought of what might happen if I haven't convincingly got rid of Sukee before he reaches the door. To him it might be simpler to just shoot her and drag her dead body into my apartment. I can't let that happen. I try stepping up my game. 

'Yeah, I got a friend staying the night. No, he didn't do this to me, yes, he's drunk. We both are. Look, I'm sorry about the noise and the blood on the landing, I'll have it cleaned by morning. But now, I gotta get this cut seen to before it starts bleeding again, so are we done here?'

I've never spoken that directly to Sukee in my life. She's a little taken back by this. I don't think anyone's ever spoken that directly to Sukee. She really is the living embodiment of the don't-fuck-with-me personality type. 

And true to form her response to my barbed reply is to smile in a way as if to say: Okay, that's how you want to play it, I'll give you a pass for now, but one more misstep and you're cooked. 

She doesn't say another word, she does, however, give me a very slow and considered nod. Which only furthers to convey the sub-text of her loaded smile. She turns and walks back to her apartment. I watch her until she's inside and gone from sight before I close my door. The moment I do I startle, as I suddenly realise that the man stands inches from me, gun in hand, aimed at my ribcage. 

'She gonna be a problem?' He asks. I shake my head, once, almost imperceptibly, but it's enough to assuage his concern for the time being.

'Now what?' I ask, almost wishing I hadn't.

'Now, you're going to perform surgery on me.' The man says, with no hint of sarcasm in his voice.