Her monotonous voice made me realize how much sleepier I was. My eye muscles weakened, barely able to be kept open. I felt like I was listening to a computerized female voice giving me options to press a key.
"I don't remember, sorry," I said, wiping my eye with the back of my left index finger. "I don't even know who you are."
A slight pause. I imagined her feeling shocked, both hands on the phone.
"You were lost somewhere in the street near Broadway," she said. "I gave you concise directions. That's how we met."
After those words left her mouth, my face turned peculiar, my eyebrows shifting down near the top of my squinting eyes; a Clint Eastwood classic.
"I would never remember something as minor as that," I said. "And how can you conclude that we met? You only gave me simple directions, right?"
"I gave you concise, and very clear directions," she said, sounding as if correcting me. "I was like an ace classmate teaching you how to do an equation in Calculus class."
"Are you calling me dumb?"
"You aren't dumb if you don't question that you are."
"Hey, well giving me directions is not the same as telling me your name and getting to know each other," I said, switching the phone to my other ear.
There was a brief pause in our conversation. With the phone up in my left ear, I walked towards the window and stared at the drifting clouds. The sky still looked unreal. Far above in the distance, a jet airplane was smoothly flying its way south, its roaring engines barely heard. Who knew where it was going.
After seeing it glide away from my vision, I said on the phone, "Who are you?"
"I told you," she said, like a woman trying to calm down her frustrated husband. "It is not important in the matter. All I need from you is to do me one little, effortless favor."
"I told you," she said, like a woman trying to calm down her frustrated husband. "It is not important in the matter. All I need from you is to do me one little, effortless favor."
Sooner or later, I was thinking about hanging up the phone. This woman was creeping me out. The more she said the word, 'favor', I felt the urge to just punch her in the face. Unfortunately, she was on the other side of the line.
"Please," she continued, "it requires very little effort."
At least that'll end this conversation, I thought. After all I needed something to do in my life. "Fine, what do you want me do?"
"You live in an apartment, yes?"
"Yes."
"Just so you know, I'm about to give you a whole lot of information, but all you need to do is follow along and you'll do absolutely fine. It's not like I'm making you save the world from aliens, or anything," she said.
"Alright, shoot."
"Okay, all you need to do is go downstairs and tell the doorman that you have a brown, shoe box-sized package that you want to pick up. There is no doubt that the package will be there. Once you receive it, I want you to take it outside and open it. Don't open it in the lobby, or your apartment room. Open it anywhere outside, but preferably where nobody is around. Open it with your hands; don't use any sharp objects to help you open it. There is nothing to worry about. The package is not some kind of bomb or anything dangerous. It's something, however, that cannot be handled roughly or dropped, so be careful. I am giving you a responsibility and it is up to you to handle it successfully.That's all I want for you to do now. And again, don't worry. I am not tricking you. I am not a criminal, nor anybody who intends to commit murder or rape or anything violent. I am not affiliated with any gang member or anything. Just grab the package and open it. Capish?"
"Wait," I said. "How do you know where I live?"
"That is not important. Do you understand me?" she demanded.
I couldn't think of anything other than to nod my head, but realizing that that's totally meaningless, I responded with an unassertive "yes".
"Good," she said. "And after we hang up, I will never call you back again. There are reasons why I won't, and you will find out, but I thought I would let you know beforehand."
"Wait," I said, again. "what do you mean that I will find out?"
"Aren't mysteries exciting?" she said.
"I need to know, though, since you're never calling me back again."
"Look, I am here to just tell you what I want from you. That is all. I am like an object. No matter what you ask, and how you ask them, I will do nothing but ignore your questions. Just do your task, and you'll know in the very, near future."
"Will the box reveal anything?"
"I can only say this," she said, her soft tone sneaking into my ear canal. "when you find out what's inside the box, give yourself some time to bear with what you are seeing in your very own eyes. You will not need anybody to help you, including me. You will know exactly what to do when you see what's in the box. But take your time, and really examine it. Now try not to waste anymore time. Goodbye."
She hung up. I held the phone up in my ear, listening to the stand-by sound. I slowly put the phone back, and walked towards the window again, gazing at the outside world. Why, in this peaceful morning, must you get ordered from a stranger to retrieve an anonymous box? There goes your day, or even you life. The clouds were drifting away with the wind as the sun healthily shone the entire city. What a beautiful day.
Whatever was inside that box, I did not want to retrieve it immediately. I spent some time watching the view. I stared at the cars driving by the street, the people doing their daily routines, walking their dogs and buying their breakfast. It gave me a sense of relief that I wasn't the only one in the world. After staring at the outside for a while, Norah Jones' beat came back to me again, but not as pleasant. The artificial voice of the strange woman kept haunting me.
I washed my face in the bathroom, sat down on the sofa, and ate some peanuts that were left on the coffee table from yesterday. After chewing down the bland taste of peanuts, I stared into space. Whatever I was thinking, I tried not to think about the box. But it just would not work. The box never escaped out of my mind.
I put on my black peacoat, grabbed my keys, and my phone, and decided to head down to the lobby. I needed to know what was inside of it, or else my mind would explode. Curiosity, if you think about it, is really painful to bear with. If you don't know the answer to something, whether it be a math problem or a question from someone, you start to get so frustrated you can't stop but thinking about the truth.
Because it was the weekend, the elevator came in ten seconds, I counted. I was not alone. There was a middle-aged man, around his fifties, early sixties, holding a leash to his dog. The dog, looked similar to a dachshund, moved around in circles, sniffing the ground, and eventually my foot. The man looked straight ahead with absolutely no expression on his face, unaware of the dog sniffing my foot. He wore a blue windbreaker with navy blue pants. His jacket reminded me of a trader at a stock market. No way he was one.
When we approached the lobby, I let the man go out first, his dog racing outside. I slowly head my way towards the doorman. The middle-aged man, like any other person residing in this apartment, said hello to the doorman. The doorman, whose name was Mike, responded with a hello and a smile back. When he saw me coming, he did the same. Mike was around his 60's, just doing his job, protecting the tenants, notifying them when a visitor or food delivery was here, talking to them about baseball and how the Yankees lost against the Tigers, among others. He had this job for a while now; I always thought he would suddenly quit and retire one day. But it didn't seem so yet. The only thing about him was that he talked slowly. Sometimes, I could already tell what he was trying to say. And sometimes I couldn't.
Usually he made me relaxed since he protected the building from strangers and criminals. But at this moment, I felt the exact opposite. He was the one who would hand me that package. That unknown package. He was sitting on his stool, while reading the morning newspaper. I walked towards the counter.
"Hello, my friend," he said. "A good morning to you!"
"Hey, Mike," I said, almost as a sigh. "Do you happen to know if I have a brown, shoe box-sized package waiting for me?"
"A brown shoe box-sized package," he repeated, as he looked at the list of apartments that have packages, his index finger guiding him. "Ah, yes you do."
He went to go get the package from the other room. My heart pounded faster than a horses' footsteps at the Kentucky Derby. Just what the hell could be inside?
He brought it back and handed it to me like any other package. The box was, just as she said, a brown shoe box-sized package. It was wrapped nicely; too nicely that there seemed to be no opening. On the center read my name and address, and the sender on the top corner. Handwritten. It read, Asami. No address, not even her last name. Just her first name, it seemed. How in the world could the post office recognize this? I thought. Well, my address and name were exact. This was starting to freak me out.
I asked Mike, "Hey, do you find it peculiar that the sender only wrote her first name on this package?" I said.
He grabbed the package from me and examined it. His mouth was open in confusion, it seemed.
"Hmm," he said. "It doesss seeemmm peculiarrr. Do you knowww this, Asami?"
"Well, I think I just talked to her on the phone. I asked her who she was, but she refused to tell me."
He continued to inspect the package, flipping and turning it around, like a neophyte Rubik's cube solver examining a cube before attempting to solve it.
"Hmm. It is neaaatly wraaapped. It doesn't look suspicious to me."
I nodded.
"Do you want me to opennnn it for y--"
"No," I said. "It's okay. I got it."
He handed it back to me as I headed my way outside.
"Hey wait a sec, my friendd!" he said. "Where areee you going with that packaaage outsidee?"
"She told me to open it outside."
He opened his mouth again, nodded, and looked back at the morning paper. It seemed he didn't care. The guys got more than a hundred people to take care of. He doesn't care about me.
With the package tucked in my arms, I headed towards Riverside park, and sat down on one of the benches. This allowed me to stay away from joggers, and morning bikers. It was the perfect place for privacy. Get a room? A couple wouldn't need one if they came here.
Surrounding me were just a bunch of trees and bushes. Birds were crying as the chilly, fall wind swept my skin. The package was resting on my knees. The more I looked at her handwriting, the more it freaked me out. There was definitely something mysterious in here. The package wasn't really heavy, but I knew there was something in here that would surprise me. I tried to look for an opening, but at this situation it was almost impossible. It was sealed with sticky tape. Hence I used my nails to rip off the tape, but it was no use. Maybe she was trying to make me use my brain to try to open it with my hands. She might've only said it was fragile so I wouldn't slam it on the ground to try to open it. Perhaps my hands were the only hope in opening this mysterious box.
Minutes past and I'm here trying to find out how to open this package. No pedestrians, however, walked past me. Thank goodness. They would laugh when they see a man trying to open a package outside in the park. I looked around and saw nobody, and heard nothing but the faint sound of cars passing by. I tried using my teeth to rip off the tape but it would not work. Puncturing the package would only go against her rules of opening this package. What a joke. I spent some time just staring at it, wondering what was inside. I couldn't shake it, like what a child would do to his/her wrapped Christmas present. This was frustrating. I placed the package next to me, brought my hands on the back of my head, and rested for a while, observing the tree branches wave to and fro with the wind's momentum. Looking up, I heard the sound of rhythmic footsteps. I looked to my right and saw a woman in a fur coat walking towards me. Her presence was yet to be discovered.
"You live in an apartment, yes?"
"Yes."
"Just so you know, I'm about to give you a whole lot of information, but all you need to do is follow along and you'll do absolutely fine. It's not like I'm making you save the world from aliens, or anything," she said.
"Alright, shoot."
"Okay, all you need to do is go downstairs and tell the doorman that you have a brown, shoe box-sized package that you want to pick up. There is no doubt that the package will be there. Once you receive it, I want you to take it outside and open it. Don't open it in the lobby, or your apartment room. Open it anywhere outside, but preferably where nobody is around. Open it with your hands; don't use any sharp objects to help you open it. There is nothing to worry about. The package is not some kind of bomb or anything dangerous. It's something, however, that cannot be handled roughly or dropped, so be careful. I am giving you a responsibility and it is up to you to handle it successfully.That's all I want for you to do now. And again, don't worry. I am not tricking you. I am not a criminal, nor anybody who intends to commit murder or rape or anything violent. I am not affiliated with any gang member or anything. Just grab the package and open it. Capish?"
"Wait," I said. "How do you know where I live?"
"That is not important. Do you understand me?" she demanded.
I couldn't think of anything other than to nod my head, but realizing that that's totally meaningless, I responded with an unassertive "yes".
"Good," she said. "And after we hang up, I will never call you back again. There are reasons why I won't, and you will find out, but I thought I would let you know beforehand."
"Wait," I said, again. "what do you mean that I will find out?"
"Aren't mysteries exciting?" she said.
"I need to know, though, since you're never calling me back again."
"Look, I am here to just tell you what I want from you. That is all. I am like an object. No matter what you ask, and how you ask them, I will do nothing but ignore your questions. Just do your task, and you'll know in the very, near future."
"Will the box reveal anything?"
"I can only say this," she said, her soft tone sneaking into my ear canal. "when you find out what's inside the box, give yourself some time to bear with what you are seeing in your very own eyes. You will not need anybody to help you, including me. You will know exactly what to do when you see what's in the box. But take your time, and really examine it. Now try not to waste anymore time. Goodbye."
She hung up. I held the phone up in my ear, listening to the stand-by sound. I slowly put the phone back, and walked towards the window again, gazing at the outside world. Why, in this peaceful morning, must you get ordered from a stranger to retrieve an anonymous box? There goes your day, or even you life. The clouds were drifting away with the wind as the sun healthily shone the entire city. What a beautiful day.
Whatever was inside that box, I did not want to retrieve it immediately. I spent some time watching the view. I stared at the cars driving by the street, the people doing their daily routines, walking their dogs and buying their breakfast. It gave me a sense of relief that I wasn't the only one in the world. After staring at the outside for a while, Norah Jones' beat came back to me again, but not as pleasant. The artificial voice of the strange woman kept haunting me.
I washed my face in the bathroom, sat down on the sofa, and ate some peanuts that were left on the coffee table from yesterday. After chewing down the bland taste of peanuts, I stared into space. Whatever I was thinking, I tried not to think about the box. But it just would not work. The box never escaped out of my mind.
I put on my black peacoat, grabbed my keys, and my phone, and decided to head down to the lobby. I needed to know what was inside of it, or else my mind would explode. Curiosity, if you think about it, is really painful to bear with. If you don't know the answer to something, whether it be a math problem or a question from someone, you start to get so frustrated you can't stop but thinking about the truth.
Because it was the weekend, the elevator came in ten seconds, I counted. I was not alone. There was a middle-aged man, around his fifties, early sixties, holding a leash to his dog. The dog, looked similar to a dachshund, moved around in circles, sniffing the ground, and eventually my foot. The man looked straight ahead with absolutely no expression on his face, unaware of the dog sniffing my foot. He wore a blue windbreaker with navy blue pants. His jacket reminded me of a trader at a stock market. No way he was one.
When we approached the lobby, I let the man go out first, his dog racing outside. I slowly head my way towards the doorman. The middle-aged man, like any other person residing in this apartment, said hello to the doorman. The doorman, whose name was Mike, responded with a hello and a smile back. When he saw me coming, he did the same. Mike was around his 60's, just doing his job, protecting the tenants, notifying them when a visitor or food delivery was here, talking to them about baseball and how the Yankees lost against the Tigers, among others. He had this job for a while now; I always thought he would suddenly quit and retire one day. But it didn't seem so yet. The only thing about him was that he talked slowly. Sometimes, I could already tell what he was trying to say. And sometimes I couldn't.
Usually he made me relaxed since he protected the building from strangers and criminals. But at this moment, I felt the exact opposite. He was the one who would hand me that package. That unknown package. He was sitting on his stool, while reading the morning newspaper. I walked towards the counter.
"Hello, my friend," he said. "A good morning to you!"
"Hey, Mike," I said, almost as a sigh. "Do you happen to know if I have a brown, shoe box-sized package waiting for me?"
"A brown shoe box-sized package," he repeated, as he looked at the list of apartments that have packages, his index finger guiding him. "Ah, yes you do."
He went to go get the package from the other room. My heart pounded faster than a horses' footsteps at the Kentucky Derby. Just what the hell could be inside?
He brought it back and handed it to me like any other package. The box was, just as she said, a brown shoe box-sized package. It was wrapped nicely; too nicely that there seemed to be no opening. On the center read my name and address, and the sender on the top corner. Handwritten. It read, Asami. No address, not even her last name. Just her first name, it seemed. How in the world could the post office recognize this? I thought. Well, my address and name were exact. This was starting to freak me out.
I asked Mike, "Hey, do you find it peculiar that the sender only wrote her first name on this package?" I said.
He grabbed the package from me and examined it. His mouth was open in confusion, it seemed.
"Hmm," he said. "It doesss seeemmm peculiarrr. Do you knowww this, Asami?"
"Well, I think I just talked to her on the phone. I asked her who she was, but she refused to tell me."
He continued to inspect the package, flipping and turning it around, like a neophyte Rubik's cube solver examining a cube before attempting to solve it.
"Hmm. It is neaaatly wraaapped. It doesn't look suspicious to me."
I nodded.
"Do you want me to opennnn it for y--"
"No," I said. "It's okay. I got it."
He handed it back to me as I headed my way outside.
"Hey wait a sec, my friendd!" he said. "Where areee you going with that packaaage outsidee?"
"She told me to open it outside."
He opened his mouth again, nodded, and looked back at the morning paper. It seemed he didn't care. The guys got more than a hundred people to take care of. He doesn't care about me.
With the package tucked in my arms, I headed towards Riverside park, and sat down on one of the benches. This allowed me to stay away from joggers, and morning bikers. It was the perfect place for privacy. Get a room? A couple wouldn't need one if they came here.
Surrounding me were just a bunch of trees and bushes. Birds were crying as the chilly, fall wind swept my skin. The package was resting on my knees. The more I looked at her handwriting, the more it freaked me out. There was definitely something mysterious in here. The package wasn't really heavy, but I knew there was something in here that would surprise me. I tried to look for an opening, but at this situation it was almost impossible. It was sealed with sticky tape. Hence I used my nails to rip off the tape, but it was no use. Maybe she was trying to make me use my brain to try to open it with my hands. She might've only said it was fragile so I wouldn't slam it on the ground to try to open it. Perhaps my hands were the only hope in opening this mysterious box.
Minutes past and I'm here trying to find out how to open this package. No pedestrians, however, walked past me. Thank goodness. They would laugh when they see a man trying to open a package outside in the park. I looked around and saw nobody, and heard nothing but the faint sound of cars passing by. I tried using my teeth to rip off the tape but it would not work. Puncturing the package would only go against her rules of opening this package. What a joke. I spent some time just staring at it, wondering what was inside. I couldn't shake it, like what a child would do to his/her wrapped Christmas present. This was frustrating. I placed the package next to me, brought my hands on the back of my head, and rested for a while, observing the tree branches wave to and fro with the wind's momentum. Looking up, I heard the sound of rhythmic footsteps. I looked to my right and saw a woman in a fur coat walking towards me. Her presence was yet to be discovered.
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