The Extra Room by E. A. Fow

There were two doors on the left side of the hallway: the front door to the apartment and the coat closet. On Thursday, however, there were three. After Daniella arrived home from another job interview, she closed the front door and put her coat away. As she walked down the hall to the kitchen to start dinner, she walked past the third door. It was plain and white, just like the others. She closed and reopened her eyes.
 
Her initial urge was to continue on to the kitchen to put the chicken on. She looked towards the kitchen, hesitating, but finally went back to the new door and opened it.
 
On the other side was a fully furnished sitting room, the light already on, and a book left open on the table. She looked around, but there was no sign of who had just been there, and disturbingly the only door out was the one through which she had entered. She wanted to retreat but made herself look around first. She noted the table was antique, the kind she had wanted for a long time, with wooden legs and a curved tin top. She ran her hand over the cold metal as she looked at the rest of the space. There was a lumpy couch, a wicker basket full of magazines, and a coffee table with water rings marring the wooden surface. On the wall was a framed print. She knew it was a deKooning, but she didn’t recognize the image.
 
On the far wall was a window looking out, which seemed highly improbable, as it should have been the kitchen in the Camilleri’s apartment across the way. Out the window, she could see down Classon Avenue through the naked, winter branches of the chestnut tree. The tree was huge, magnificent, and the entire street would be invisible during the summer. The sun would have to push through the voluptuous green, making the room glow, as if living inside a leaf itself.

Daniella wondered how she had never seen the room before, but it didn’t matter; she knew about it now and felt covetous. She wondered how she could hide it from her roommate, and if she couldn’t, how she could commandeer it somehow. It was then she felt her excitement drain away. She knew she would have to pay extra rent if she had an extra room, but there was no way she could afford to pay more. Liz would get the room, or insist they get another roommate, so she walked out of the room, pulling the door behind her, hoping that, somehow, it would just go away.

© 2012 E. A. Fow

E.A. Fow writes and paints in Brooklyn, NY.

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