The red dress (part 1)

I know exactly when it started, this chain of events that led to so much trouble. It was a Thursday morning in the beginning of May. I sat by the breakfast table, chewing on a slice of bread with Swiss cheese. As usual, I looked briefly through the morning paper. After the sports pages, with the soccer results, and before the stock market listings, I came to see this real-estate advertisement. It was exactly what I had been looking for. The apartment was on the 4^th floor in a building in the old part of town. It was recently refurbished, with a new bathroom and a large balcony facing west. The view was magnificent, towards the university, where I work, and the fjord, where the coastal express sails every morning at ten o’clock.

The apartment had only one bedroom, but that’s good enough for me. I’m unmarried and without kids. Hardly anyone comes to visit me, and certainly not to stay over. A guestroom is redundant. It was just the kind of den I wanted, a place to relax after work, with good music and a good book, and a view to the snow-covered mountains on the other side of the fjord (in the winter time).

I called the realtor immediately.

“Hello, this is Easttown Real Estate, how can I help you”

The voice of the woman on the phone was soft and sweet. I wondered what she looked like. In my imagination she was chubby with red hair and green eyes.

“I’m interested in that 4^th-floor apartment that you advertised today,” I said.

“Yes, that’s a nice one. There are a couple of other guys interested. We will have a showing this evening at 5 pm.”

“Thank you, I’ll be there,” I said and hung up.

I was very excited when I stood on the walkway outside the apartment building at 5 pm. There was no sign outside, but there was no doubt I was at the right address. The BMW Z5 that was parked outside the building smelled real-estate agent. I’ve seen them before, these young guys in Armani suits and Italian shoes, and the sly salesman smile on their face

There was no elevator in the old building, so I walked up the stairs, and knocked the door with the “for sale” sign on the 4^th floor. The Armani suit opened the door. He was in his in his socks only, The Italian shoes were placed on a carped by the door. I interpreted this as a sign that I should take off my shoes before walking on the new hardwood floor. He gave me his hand and said

“Robert. Welcome.”

I took his hand, but didn’t bother to say my name. It wouldn’t be of interest to him anyway, at least not before we would eventually sign a contract.

“I talked to a woman in your office regarding the showing,” I said.”

“It was probably Carol, our secretary.”

“Yes, probably.” I didn’t tell him that I was disappointed to meet Robert, and not Carol, at the showing.

A middle-aged couple had come before me, and was already viewing the apartment. It wasn’t what they were looking for,   with only one bedroom. They hadn’t studied the prospect very carefully.

“Too small,” she saud.

“Too expensive,” he said..

It felt like a relief to me. They were unlikely to make a bid.

Right after my arrival, a red summer dress came soaring through the door. The woman wearing the red dress immediately started to inspect the apartment. Barefoot, she danced like a ballerina through the rooms, and out on the balcony. She was very enthusiastic. Her large breasts moved up and down when she breathed. I couldn’t help imagine what she would look like free from the red dress. She expressed her excitement for the bathroom with the sauna, the living room with the shining hardwood floor, and the balcony with the view to the fjord.

“It’s awesome,” she said. “I love it.”

She had a fairly charming smile, but she wasn’t very pretty. I must admit that I quickly forgot her.

The next morning I called Robert to submit my bid. I even raised it right before lunch, to show that I was serious, and to scare off competing bidders. What I had in mind, of course, was the woman with the red dress and the fairly charming smile.

I must admit that I had to stretch beyond my budget. Without my late Uncle Otto it would not been possible. Uncle Otto had made a small fortune as an umbrella manufacturer. He was unmarried and without children. It was a big surprise, when he for unknown reasons provided me a large amount of money in his will.

I have a permanent position as a mathematics teacher at the university, but my income is by no means enough to pay for such an apartment. My modest position involves only lecturing of undergrad courses. I’m not expected to do research. How could I? There is nothing I could contribute to the work of the great masters, such as Gauss, Cauchy and Hilbert.

Three weeks later I moved in. Two of my friends, Frank and Joe, offered to help me move. I very much appreciated this, of course. I wouldn’t be able to carry my furniture up the stairs on my own. Swearing and breathing heavily, we pulled my sofa up to the 4^th floor. It was heavy and hard to get around the turns of the stairway. On the 3^rd floor, we paused for a while to recover.

“When this is over, I’ll invite you to a party,” I said in a moment of imprudence.

I immediately regretted what I had said. I‘m an introvert man, and I don’t have many friends. I don’t want to have many friends. Most of the time, I prefer to be on my own. In fact, the only persons with whom I have some social interaction are Frank and Joe, who helped me move. Frank is a scholar in the Institute of Mathematics, where I work, and Joe is an old friend from college days. Just the tree of us, and a six-pack of beer, wouldn’t make much of a party. Therefore, a party in my apartment was out of question. On the other hand, I couldn’t withdraw my invitation. I had to think fast.

“Let’s go to the bar by the old bridge next weekend,” I said. “The beers are on me, of course,” I added.

“Great idea,” said Frank.

“Sounds good,” said Joe.

The next weekend we met in the pub by the old bridge; Frank and Joe and I. I was dressed in my best black shirt, and my only jacket, the upper half of my only suit. My credit card was safe in the pocket. I was in a good mood, and so were the others. Around us people around us swang foaming pints of beer and shouted half-understandable  sentences in each other’s ears.

I ordered three Brooklyn Brown Ales, and handed my credit card to the bartender. The stereo played Guns ‘n’ Roses on full volume.

“Sweet Child of Mine,” Frank shouted.

“Best guitar riff ever,” said Joe.

“Give me some death metal, such as Nile,” I said, to show my knowledge of metal.

This kind of spiritual conversations took place all night. After all, we shouldn’t just talk science stuff when we were partying.

After a while, the pub was packed with people that I had never seen before and would probably never see again. It didn’t matter for me. The pub was just a backdrop of hustle and bustle. I got the feeling of being part of a big social community, at least for a night.

We fought our way through the crowd to get another beer at the bar, Leffe Brune this time. Abbey beer from Belgium. After all they did something useful, these monks.

Eventually, I lost the sight of Frank and Joe. They diffused into the crowd.

It was right before midnight, when I was hanging at the bar alone, when a woman gently touched my arm. I turned around and looked at her, but couldn’t remember having seen her before. Her brown hair was gathered in a ponytail. She was dressed in a white singlet that had a hard time covering her big breasts. The black skirt was tight around her chunky butt.  The pumps on her feet made her appear taller than she was, about the same height as me. I recognized her only when she smiled.

“I think you have a lot more money than me. Maybe you buy me a beer?” she said.

It was the woman from the showing, the woman with the red dress, which she certainly wasn’t wearing tonight.

“Sure”, I said. ”What do you want?”

“A Sam Adams Boston lager would be great.”

We made a toast, and talked about my apartment, that she liked so much.

That’s when I made my biggest mistake.

To be continued ...

(I took the picture in Battery Park New York about a month ago. I have no idea who the woman in the red dress is)