TNMN FANFIC
Chapter 6: The Documentary.
TW: It presents strong language and slight to direct mention of heavy topics. This was added to criticize the harsh reality of 1955, not make fun of the minorities involved.
As the meteorologist predicted, a terrible storm arose in NYC for a whole week, preventing Izaack Gauss from leaving his old home until the following Monday. He didn’t fear that the weather could be dangerous (it wasn't a hurricane, after all), but rather that his possessions and staff would get wet during the move. He preferred it being done in the morning of February 21st, so when he finished his shift as a reporter, he could arrive with his luggage and relax in the afternoon. He was mentioning this to his coworkers at break, when their boss approached them from behind.
“Good morning, team. I couldn’t help but listen to Mr. Gauss’ plans about moving; if I heard correctly, you're going to a new apartment edifice.”
“Uh, yes! Jurgen building, to be precise… But everyone knows that already.” He explained, referencing last week's gossip.
The man took the cigar out of his mouth and laughed calmly, holding it between his fingers. He then rested that same hand over Izaack’s shoulder who, now curious, left his cup of coffee on the table and tried to guess his thoughts.
“Perhaps, but not many know where the heck it is, or what people inhabit it. The audience MUST be dead in suspense, waiting for their favorite newsman to show ‘em his new home.” He assured, exaggerating his distress. “So why don't you film the scoop before anyone else does, and while you're at it, check out the place and interview the neighbors? I bet there’s some juicy gossip going on around that building.” He concluded, with a mischievous smile on his face.
“Like… a documentary of sorts?”
“Exactly!” He exclaimed in amazement. “The Chismoso News presents… «Jurgen Apartments: The Documentary», featuring Izaack Gauss.”
While saying this, Izaack’s boss went to his side and hugged his back with his empty hand while extending the other one from left to right, emphasizing how great his idea was. Upon hearing this, Izaack worried he could cause a bad impression to his yet to meet neighbors, or bother the routines of his coworkers; but he finally agreed after hearing their approval.
“Alright. Let's get going!”
Without further ado, Izaack and his team (conformed by a cameraman, a photographer, and a writer) left in their news van with the most advanced equipment of the time: analogue cameras, one for TV and other for photography; a typewriter, a magnemite tape recorder, and a ribbon mic.
The journey was easy, as the streets were drying out and the sky was only a bit cloudy. However, Izaack panicked after seeing that the entire building got surrounded by his crazed fans, paparazzi and (probably) hidden doppelgangers; a sea of people who were barely restrained by some agents. They were supposed to leave after transporting the furniture to his apartment, but Agent 1314 ordered them to restrain the crowd.
That poorly trained team was soon overwhelmed by the fans, who ran towards the van and started to climb over it, trying to see Izaack through the windows. Now horrified, he hugged his tape recorder and cornered himself in the rear end of the vehicle, while the other employees tried to cover him like a barrier.
“There's a breach in the containment!” One of the agents exclaimed, after sprinting to the lobby.
“Call reforces.” Agent 1314 commanded, looking at Henry from the other side.
Miraculously, the help arrived quickly. A dozen patrol cars stunned the crowd with their sirens, and from inside, many police officers in protective blue suits emerged and ruthlessly suppressed them with their clubs. In the midst of chaos, Agent 1314 escorted Izaack and his team, who almost forgot to grab their stuff from the van, to the entry. They were safe at last in the lobby, but the rescued could do nothing but heavy breathing.
“Huff... Huff… Oughh.” Izaack complained, with a great pain in his chest.
“Are you OK?” Henry asked, a bit worried.
“Yeah… Huff. I just… Huff. Give me a second.”
His heart was beating strongly, but he regained his composure once he took a deep, slow breath. Then, he smoothed his messy hair and adjusted his tie before starting the show.
“Team, get ready. We're about to film.”
The coworkers began to prepare their working tools as soon as he said it. Both cameramen positioned themselves; the one taking the photos was diagonally to Henry and Izaack (so he could capture both), but the one filming faced the reporter, who acquired an upright posture and a broad smile while holding his mic and tape recorder. Upon noticing the TV camera, Henry got a little nervous and adjusted his hat and clothes.
For her part, the writer sat on the floor and gently rested her fingers on the typewriter, waiting for Izaack to begin speaking. That same thing happened right after the cameraman lifted up his thumb.
“Good morning, America! I'm Izaack Gauss, and you're watching The Chismoso News!” He announced, with his usual charisma. “Today we bring you a program ESPECIALLY aimed at my dear fans, who I bet are excited to know how my new apartment building looks inside, and who will be my neighbors from now on. And since I'm just as curious, I decided to bring my team with me, move around and interview as many people as we can. Ladies and gentlemen, The Chismoso News presents… «Jurgen Apartments: The Documentary».”
Following the title of his program, Izaack moved to the right to make room for Henry, who now was the center of the video recording. He had no intention of leaving his cabin and being interviewed because of his stage fright, but he acceded when he saw Agent 1314 pointing to the ground behind everyone, like saying “come over here, NOW”. It had been a long time since he was so near to another person, without glass or walls to protect him.
“Greetings, young sir. Could you tell us your name and what your position is in the D.D.D.?” He asked, bringing the microphone closer to him.
“H-hello.” He muttered, feeling uncomfortable. “Uhm, I'm Henrisky- H-HENRY, I mean- UGHHH!” He lamented, before shutting down and covering his face. He just said exactly what he repeated himself not to say in his mind.
“Hey, listen. You don’t have to worry, our editor will cut out the mistakes.” He said, to try and cheer him up. “Let's start again, shall we?”
Izaack prudently walked towards Henry while saying this, making sure not to invade his personal space but show empathy at the same time. This helped him calm down, so he readjusted himself and tried to smile like Izaack, but he couldn’t convey the same confidence.
“Greetings, young sir. Could you tell us your name and what your position is in the D.D.D.?”
“Hello. I'm Henry Kelleys, and uh, I'm the doorman of this building.”
“Interesting! So you're the one in charge.”
“Uhm, yes but no. You see, when I catch a doppelganger I have to send the agent who's behind us to uh… «Do the job», but in reality she was the one who employed me, so it's in her right to give me orders.”
“I imagine it must be like a co-operation between you and her, then.”
“Yeah.”
Now that they were comfortable with each other, Izaack put his arm around Henry’s back and next he invited Agent 1314 to come closer. He didn't rest his other arm on her, not only to show respect to the authority, but because he had to hold the microphone.
“It's clear you guys do a great job as a team. In fact, my real estate agent recommended this building to me because, according to the statistics, you're the best doorman in the neighborhood.”
“WHAT?!” He shrieked, completely flabbergasted.
“That's right.” Agent 1314 interrupted. “You're the only one who made no mistakes… For now.”
Henry couldn't suppress his emotions, and began to babble with tears in his eyes. On one hand, he was flattered for the recognition, but on the other hand he suffered knowing what were the dark implications of her words.
“If you keep it like this, who knows? Maybe you could win your own plaque that says something like «Best doorman of the month».” He joked in a light hearted mood.
“Maybe.” She added in a slightly sweet tone, but maintaining professionalism.
“Now, if you excuse us, we need to continue our tour. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kelley.”
Izaack shaked his hand courteously and went up the stairs with his team, not before Henry sent some quick greetings to his parents. Meanwhile, Agent 1314 stayed on the ground floor to continue her duty.
He didn't take long to knock on the first door. At first the team thought no one was there, but just as they were about to leave, Lois suddenly opened the door. She seemed tense.
“Good morning, ma'am. Is something wrong?"
“No, not at all. I’m just glad you and your team are OK.” She explained, holding his hands. “I saw everything from my window. Those savages… They almost flipped your van.”
He looked at her silently, for a few seconds. His expression was calm but aware of the danger he had faced; he seemed almost melancholic, in a way. It was then that he drove his attention to her hands. She wasn’t wearing her mittens this time, instead, she had white gloves adapted for her six fingers.
“Oh, Lois Stilnsky; it's nice to see you again.”
“Huh? Do you remember me?”
“The polydactyl woman from last week’s protest. I never forget an interview.” He assured, blinking an eye. “Is your husband here with you or you're alone?”
“The second.”
“Oh. Well, speaking of the protest again, do you think Keppler's public apology from Tuesday was enough to calm the situation?”
“No.” She replied, with no hesitation. “... But we were promised the launch of a new document for disabled people this Monday. From what I understood, I'll have to meet a doctor who can diagnose me again, so he can sign a paper that compiles my deformities. Then, the D.D.D. will give the doorman a copy of it to check if the one I'm holding is valid.”
“I see.” He said, right before releasing her hands. “I would love to keep chatting, Mrs. Stilnsky, but there are still many neighbors to visit.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Gauss… Wait!” She stopped him, because she just remembered something. “Before you go, I hope you pay Margarette a visit. She gifted me these gloves, and I want you to give her something back.”
Lois ran through her apartment, and returned with a heavy bag. He immediately noticed the horrible smell of canned tuna from within thanks to his keen nose, and silently began to worry.
“Here.” She added, in a friendly tone.
“Oh- OK…”
Izaack put the tape recorder under his armpit, so he could grab it and go to the next apartment with his coworkers. Albertsky opened the door, and surprised, he immediately called his brother.
“ROBERTSKY, COME HERE! It's Izaack Gauss in person!”
“Really?!” He yelled from his bedroom.
He was so excited to meet him that he ran to the outside, accidentally bumping his forehead into the (relatively) low door frame. The painful impact produced an abrupt sound in its wood, which made Izaack and the others react with a whistle of pain. Then, Robertsky frowned and arched his back, resting his hand on the open door.
“Are you alright?” Albertsky asked, getting closer to his face.
“Yes… ouch.” He complained silently, massaging his forehead.
The pain only lasted a moment before Izaack could continue with his interview.
“Well, with whom I have the pleasure of speaking today?”
“Albertsky and Robertsky Peachman, from the acclaimed Peachman’s shoe shop!” The oldest brother responded, taking the opportunity to do free advertising. “This Monday afternoon, we will reopen the doors of our renovated premises on Sancho street, Serrano Neighborhood. Tell ‘em what we sell, brother.”
“Oh, yes. We have…” He paused, to begin talking really fast. “... Man shoes, woman shoes, girls shoes, boy shoes, baby shoes, black shoes, brown shoes, white shoes, boots, rain boots, snow boots, cowboy boots, heels, tap shoes, ballet shoes, clown shoes, short stockings, long stockings, shoe lubrication ointments, shoe repairs, custom-made shoes-”
“That's- that's enough!” Izaack interrupted, feeling bombarded by the information. “Uh, I'm definitely sure your reopening will be a success, with so many products to choose from.”
“Exactly!”
The Peachmans looked at each other proudly, while Izaack smiled at the camera, slightly uncomfortable. His last question was if they were related to the doorman, having noticed their physical resemblance; and when he heard that they were his half-brothers, Robertsky asked him to take a picture together. Izaack agreed, and the photographer got into position as they did: The intense flash from his camera blinded them for a few seconds, but Izaack recovered quickly and went to the third apartment to knock on the door. No one answered.
“Hello? Is somebody here?”
He knocked trice before looking through the peephole, just to discover the whole living room was empty. No furniture, nor wallpapers.
“Huh, that's strange; there's nothing inside. Let's keep going.”
No sooner said than done, they went to the last door on the first floor, which meant they had already completed a third of the documentary footage. Izaack was about to knock on the door like always, but strangely the people inside opened it before he could do so: They knew it was their time to get interviewed by their beloved Izaack Gauss.
“Welcome, sweetheart.” They received him, at the same time. “We are Elenois and Selenne, the Schverzt Twins.” The sister with triangular earrings explained, striking a model's pose.
They were wearing the same outfit, but Elenois’ short dress was yellow with light orange stripes, while Selenne’s main color was strong orange and the stripes were red. Both wore white gloves, knee-high socks, and black Mary Jane shoes.
“Wow! I must be seeing double.” He joked, genuinely surprised.
Elenois and Selenne laughed like teenagers, and extended their right hands for him to kiss them. Izaack got a bit nervous, and instead, he shook them one by one, which irritated the ladies in secret.
“And well, why have you come to live here specifically? From what I know, your family owns a big, comfy mansion.” He asked, despite knowing the answer.
“I wonder why.” Elenois replied, seductively.
“We are here for him, silly.” Selenne clarified to her sister.
“I KNOW. Why do you think I would forget it???”
“Because your head is full of air!!!”
The sister's argument did nothing but get worse by the seconds, and Izaack didn't know what to do. It was Elenois herself who stopped her sister before it turned into a fight.
“Shut up, Selenne! You're embarrassing me on TV!!!” She shouted, making everyone speechless. Then, she took a deep breath and returned to her attractive demeanor. “Izaack, honey, I'm sorry you had to see that. Anyways, we are here to see you in person and… Ask if you could have a date with us.”
“Lunch with me, and dinner with her.” Selenne added.
Izaack stared at both of them, not as delighted as they thought he would be. He tried to think of excuses to decline or postpone it as politely as he could, but nothing convincing came to him.
“I… Uhm… I just… Moved here…”
“C’mon… We know this will send the ratings to the sky. Everyone loves a bit of romance gossip in their program.” Elenois bargained, while getting closer to his face.
Her proposal was tempting, not because he was interested in them, but because she was right. His viewers loved all the rom-coms he participated in, and seeing the same happen in real life would be something his boss would immediately approve of for the documentary. In short, everyone loved to stick their noses in his private life.
“... OK.” He finally decided, smiling tenderly at the camera.
The twins yelped in joy, hugging each other and jumping in place. Then, Elenois went to Izaack’s left and Selenne to his right, and kissed both of his cheeks in sync while the photographer captured their picture. It would make excellent material for the newspaper, later on.
“By the way, we were thinking of having lunch at 11 am and dinner at 5 pm, does that sound good?” Selenne whispered to his ear.
“Uhh, yeah.” He nodded, touching the marks of fresh lipstick on his face. He blushed in shame while doing so.
Finally, the twins laughed again and ran inside, closing the door. Izaack checked the hour on his wristwatch, and noticed it was 10 am.
“Cut the camera.” He ordered his coworker. “I have to get ready for Selenne’s date, so uhm, wait here until I come back.”
Izaack left his team and went quickly to the second department of floor 2, his new home. Inside, all his furniture was placed in a corner; he would have to wait until his work was over to arrange it. He left the bag of canned tuna, his mic and recording tape on the table, but then he was amazed to find a variety of wrapped gifts on top of it. He would have loved to read their labels and open them in the act, but at the moment he needed to find his travel suitcase.
Upon doing it, he grabbed some of his suits and hygiene items like soap, men's shampoo, shaving foam, etc. Then, he took a quick shower, shaved his chin, dressed in a strong blue suit with a matching neck ribbon, and styled his short hair with gel. Finally, he applied cologne to his neck and wrists, and wore a fabric flower brooch on the suit lapel.
Izaack went down the stairs, and saw Selenne among the multitude in the aisle: She was now wearing a long red dress with a white polka dot pattern, white gloves, a pearl necklace and matching earrings. Over her right arm, she held a tiny purse of her same style.
“I'm here.” He announced, softly.
Selenne went completely tongue-tied after seeing him dressed like that. Her cheeks blushed intensively, and she began to laugh nervously while fanning herself with her hand. She grabbed his bent arm, and together they left the building with the news team behind.
The Schverzt’s limousine received them at the sidewalk and took the entire group to Blue & Green’s, followed by a troop sent by Agent 1314 that skirted around the place after they entered, preventing any attempt to interrupt or attack the celebrities.
Izaack ordered his team to start filming. As he sat down, he noticed that the restaurant reduced its size to serve only one table at a time, because it has been under repair since the incident with "Henry”. Once this happened, Nacha had to fire all her personnel and become the chef, the cashier, the waiter and cleaning lady at the same time; so she seemed more scattered than usual.
“Oh, welcome! I’m flattered you chose my restaurant for your first date.” Nacha assured, sounding a bit sentimental. “Here’s the menu.”
She gave them a large card where the dishes, drinks and desserts were printed along with their prices. It offered a variety of burgers, fries, milkshakes, sodas; anything a 1950’s family dinner would.
“Mmh, we could share the house special.” Izaack suggested, pointing at its picture on the menu. “It's two burgers with fries.”
“I’m sorry, but by contract I can't eat anything that isn't a salad.”
Izaack and Nacha exchanged glances with each other, completely confused by her statement.
“But uhm… I think… A burger, in a figurative sense, could be described as a salad between meat and bread.” Izaack opined.
“Bread makes you fat.” Selenne counter-argued.
“... Will you order something to drink, at least?”
“Water. It could be with ice, if I feel the urge to munch into something.”
Izaack frowned with concern. He understood models could have strict lifestyles, but her strange attitude only filled his head with questions.
“Selenne, if you don't want unhealthy food, then why are we here? I thought you wanted to share a meal with me.” He whispered, with the menu covering his mouth.
“Because I know it’s your favorite place. Isn't that a cute detail?” She whispered back.
“B-but, how did you know??? It’s the first time we've ever met!”
“Well, I asked someone…”
Her sentence was fairly innocent, at first. People often ask their date’s acquaintances for help in order to surprise them; but Izaack didn't seem to take it well. For him, she and whoever passed the information gossipped behind his back, like always. He closed his eyes hard and tried to remain polite… But he couldn't.
“Oh, but never ask ME, right?!” Izaack snapped, hitting the table with both palms.
An awkward tension filled the ambience. Both of them lowered their heads and looked away in opposite directions, uncomfortable for what happened. Nacha was nervous too, but didn't want to lose her clients, so she approached the couple and broke the silence between them.
“I could make a salad for you.” She offered, looking at Selenne. “Tomato and lettuce, or something else?”
“No, that's OK for me.”
“And you, sir?”
“The home special with a small Coke, please.”
Nacha wrote the order down in her notebook and went to her kitchen to cook. Meanwhile, Izaack apologized for his behavior and thanked her gesture, although he was still irritated. After that, the date flowed better when they talked about different things, such as what they did that day, their interests, and what they thought about the doppel situation.
Then, Nacha came with the plates. The house special, called like the restaurant, consisted of two burgers: The one at the left had blue-tinted buns, blue cheese, a patty, and caramelized onions; while the other at the right had green buns, tomato slices, a patty, and avocado puree. They were accompanied by regular fries, some dressings and the soda Izaack ordered, separately. The other dish was a bowl of simple lettuce and tomato salad with just a little oil and salt, served with a side glass of ice water.
Izaack opened the Coke and filled his empty glass, then he invited Selenne to clink their drinks and start eating, showing his gentler side.
The food was delicious, and the conversation between bites turned out to be pleasant, even after his first impressions of her. Truth was he ended up liking Selenne; but deep inside his heart he knew it wasn't going to work. Their date felt more like a lunch between two friends than the start of a new love.
Izaack paid for the food and left a big tip for Nacha, wishing her luck with the repair of her premises. The news team stopped recording and waited for Nacha to clean the empty table, so they could have lunch too. Finally, the group and the agent troops left at 2 pm the same way they had come.
“OK, now we can have a 5 minute break before starting to film again.” Izaack explained, before entering his room.
Once inside, he went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth until they shone like pearls in the mirror. Suddenly, he noticed an ugly avocado stain on his shirt and tsked in annoyance, then he took his jacket off and lifted it from the lower ends, revealing his toned, hairy trunk. He then threw the dirty clothing in the washing machine, and from his closet he took another shirt. Luckily, the jacket didn't stain, so he just removed the fabric flower brooch and wore it once more.
Izaack was about to leave, but remembered the bag of canned tuna for Margarette and went to get it. There he saw the unopened gifts on the table; they were 10 presents of different sizes, colors, and packaging, but every one of them had the D.D.D. approval seal and its own tag.
Curiosity won out over his patience, so he unwrapped each one and got, in the following order:
A handmade cherry pie in a covered tray, from Margarette. It had a happy face drawn with cream and two maraschino cherries over it, so to preserve it better, he put the pie in the refrigerator.
A greyish blue fedora with a white hat band, from Roman and Lois. Its main color was a bit lighter than his everyday suit.
A big bottle of plain milk, from Francis. He also left it in the refrigerator.
A pair of silk gloves, from Alf and Rafttellyn. They were pure white, and fit him perfectly.
A new pair of black shoes, from the Peachman brothers. It had a peach seal with the shop’s name on their soles. While trying them out, he wondered how they got his size number.
A meatloaf beside a folded white paper, from Nacha and Anastacha. After storing it with the other foods, he unfolded said paper and found a simplistic drawing of himself, with the word “Hi” over his head. It seemed to be done half-heartedly by the kid, but he still loved it.
A wide book with a green cover and gold lettering, from Arnold and Gloria. Its title was “Harold Smith and the Clues of the Masked Man”.
A box of imported cigars, from Steven and Mclooy. At the bottom of the package it said "MADE IN CUBA”.
A live white rabbit with red eyes inside a cage, from Mia and… A name crossed out at the last minute, starting with W. This one really surprised Izaack, but unfortunately, he couldn't take care of it. In his planner, he noted the reminder of returning it as soon as possible.
And lastly, a box of chocolates with two photographs of the Schverzt twins’ bust, each one adorned with a kiss mark. In them, both wore their favorite dresses and posed the same; but Selenne smiled for the camera while Elenois blew a kiss. Izaack got disgusted and threw away the photos, although he kept the chocolates in the refrigerator.
In them he could judge their intentions: Who had poured their effort and identity into the object, and who only wanted to impress him. However, he felt equally as grateful to all of his neighbors, for how welcoming they were. A tear rolled down his cheek as he smiled, remembering not all his fans were trying to hurt him.
A sudden knock on his door interrupted the moment.
“Mr. Gauss, are you here?” His cameraman asked.
“O-oh, yes!” He replied from the living room, grabbing the canned tuna bag, mic and tape recorder. Then, he opened the door. “I'm sorry, I got busy and totally forgot about the filming.”
“... Are you crying?”
“N-NO!”
Izaack wiped his tears quickly, and gave him a wide, nervous smile. The cameraman didn't bother to question at all, so he called the rest of the team to take their positions. They started to film at 2:45 pm. Now, Izaack knocked on the first door of floor 2, Arnold’s apartment.
“Good afternoon, sir.” He greeted, inviting him to shake hands.
“Mr. Gauss! Uh, what a surprise to see you.” He responded, looking at his hand.
Arnold was incredulous at first, but he finally shook it firmly and amicably. In 1955, it was unthinkable that a white man of his status would be willing to touch him, much less on television.
“Before any questions, I wanted to express my heartfelt gratitude to you and the rest of the neighbors; your gifts made my day.” Izaack thanked, facing the camera.
“It's an honor. Have you seen mine?”
“Yes, of course. I didn't have the time to start your novel, but the title alone is very enticing. Could you tell us more about it?”
“Well, it's «Harold Smith and the Clues of the Masked Man». The story is about a rookie detective who has to solve his first murder case, following the mysterious letters of the main suspect… But is this person the real mastermind behind the crime? Or just a distraction in his path to uncover the truth?”
“Oohh, how intriguing!” Izaack exclaimed. “Detective fiction sure is one of my favorite genres, besides superhero comics. Why did you write this kind of novel, in particular?”
“Mmm, I guess we, as a society, sometimes crave for… For characters that represent the justice being exercised by ordinary people. Like Robin Hood, for example…” Arnold explained, taking off his hat and fidgeting around its brim. “... And uh, because I think detectives are neat.”
“Hehe, indeed.”
His interview was about to end right there, but a new question manifested in Izaack’s mind. He wasn't sure if asking it might be impolite, but he did anyway. In any case, The Chismoso News could cut it in the final edit.
“Changing the subject, uh… How’s the co-existence with your neighbors, so far?”
“... Are you asking because I'm the only black man in here?” Arnold guessed, raising an eyebrow.
“I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-” Izaack lamented, nervously.
“No, it's fine… It shows that you care.” Arnold assured, in a bittersweet tone. “Responding to that, I think it's going better than I expected. The first few days, my wife and I feared to live fighting with the neighbors; but in some strange way, being all from different backgrounds made us part of the same bag: humanity. In this invasion, we share the same fears and hopes.” He concluded.
“That's… that's beautiful.” He expressed calmly, although emotional.
Izaack said goodbye and continued on his way to the next neighbor. However, after knocking the door, the person inside told him they were busy, and that it would be better if he passed by later. He accepted politely and moved on to the third apartment, where Anastacha opened the door for him.
“Hello, little girl. Is your mother with you?”
“Do you care?” She asked rudely.
“W-well, yes. You shouldn't open the door to strangers without her permission.” Izaack advised.
“You’re no stranger. You're the TV guy everyone talks about. What do you want?”
“I’m interviewing the neighbors for a documentary. Would you like to answer me some questions?”
“Mmmmmm, well. But first, I want the cameraman to come closer to me. I have something important to say.” She ordered in a very serious tone.
After that, Izaack turned his gaze towards his teammate and shrugged, then he realized a hand gesture like saying “go ahead”. The cameraman walked slowly and deliberately, since his camera didn't have a zoom. A device with that quality would be invented just in 1959.
When her face covered more than half of the take, the cameraman adjusted the lens so the image was no longer out of focus, and gave her a thumbs-up to speak. Anastacha looked at the camera for 10 seconds, as stiff as a statue… But suddenly, she stuck out her tongue in a funny expression and raised both middle fingers: Her prank worked!
Before they could do anything, she ran laughing back into the apartment, slamming the door shut.
“Huh?!” Izaack reacted. “Oh, kids these days... Remind our editor to cut that-”
With the second floor completed, only the third remained. They went upstairs one last time and knocked on the first door. An adult opened it a little and peeked out his torso. He was wearing greyish glasses, so Izaack couldn't see his eyes; but what he could notice was his green shirt with 4 pockets, one in both sides of the shoulders and two in the chest. They weren't decorative, as he stored a pen inside his left breast pocket. Under that clothing, he had a white dress shirt, and a wine red necktie. His head was squarish, and had tanned white skin, dark hair with thick eyebrows, and a round nose. He showed no emotions in his face, but his body language suggested caution.
“Greetings, sir. Could you tell us your na-”
“No.” He responded quickly, before shutting the door.
After this, Izaack froze for a second. Then, he let out a tired sigh and moved to the next door. It was Francis’ department, but before trying to knock, Izaack found a tiny letter at the foot of the door that explained he wasn't in the building at the moment, and that he would return after work, at 7 pm. This reminded Izaack to check the hour on his wristwatch: It was 3:30 pm, an hour and half sooner than the date with Elenois.
There were only three doors left: the last two on the 3rd floor, and the one to the right of Izaack's apartment. He wanted to try the interview again with that neighbor, but first he knocked on the door in front of him. When it opened, Izaack saw an old, wrinkled man who wore a grey vest and a lighter shirt with blue pants, plus a brown belt with a gold buckle and cowboy boots. He had a red scarf around his neck and a white hat with a silver band. The crown of said hat was certainly taller than usual. He also had brown skin, dark grey hair, thick eyebrows that covered his eyes, a big nose, thin moustache and a goatee. He was holding a lit cigar between his yellowish teeth.
“Howdy, partner!” He greeted him, while taking off his hat. Then, he put it back on. “Whatcha doing around these places?”
“Filming a TV documentary, kind sir. Would you like to be interviewed?”
“If I would? HAH! I love talkin’! When I lived on my farm, my son Steven used to say I was a wobblin’ jaw around the campfire. It's just that at this age, I wanna leave no stories untold… And talkin’ ‘bout TV, I remember the days where you could only hear the news on the radio. I even remember the invention of radios last century! Around the end of the 1890’s and the start of the 1900’s when I was a boy. Oh, those days are far gone now, ain't they? I got my first radio in the 1920’s, and as a young man I loved listenin’ to what was happenin’ in the big city; I would spend hours fantasizin’ how life must be in there. Now, those dreams came true in the worst sense: My son dragged me here because in his words «it's not safe there» Bah! I told him that I was not yellow-bellied and we stayed till, one night, a DEMON got in among my cattle, I tell ya’. It had the head of a cow, and the body of a sexy, SEXY woman. That night I fell asleep in my vigilance, when her voice woke me up. It sounded deep, like a cow if it learned how to speak. She was lurin’ me into the barn, sayin’ my name like «Mclooooooooooyyyyy» but I arrived with the machete and we started a hell of a fight! Even though I'm half blind, I managed to give the beast some good slashes before she escaped through the window. That's when Steven blew her guts with the shotgun and ran to find me: We both hugged, covered in blood, and promised to leave as fast as a greased lightnin’!”
“How terrible!” Izaack exclaimed. Throughout his entire anecdote, he glanced nervously at his wristwatch from time to time. “Well, it was a pl-”
“Yes, but lucky us, the friends of Steven told us where to go. What were their names… Dob and Alf? Nah! Uh, they were… Ugh… Rob and Alb? Never been good with similar names, but I'm sure I can remember how we met their family. It all started when…”
Mclooy told in detail the story of himself and his son selling leather for the Peachmans, leaving Izaack with nothing to do but listen and nod. When it was 4:30 pm, he had to put his politeness aside and tell him he had to go. He knocked on the last door of the building and Alf came out.
“Good afternoon, sir. I'm here for a quick interview with you.” He explained, making a subtle emphasis on the word «quick».
“That would be a pleasure, Mr. Gauss. What is your inquiry?”
“Hmm, what about… The building. Do you like it?”
Alf’s expression went from an elegant smile to an upset frown. He inhaled deeply and crossed his fingers.
“Well, to construct a rich opinion on the matter, I have to consider many aspects… Architecturally, it is a solid building, but even though they repaired the basic services and did a superficial cleaning, it still looks like an abandoned place because it used to be for many years. As for the D.D.D. service, I am actually satisfied. The doorman is unexpectedly efficient, knowing his young age. And finally, the neighbors… How to say this… People like us shouldn't be here, Mr. Gauss. I was sent to live in this «refugee center» because of my wife's relation to the Stilnskys; or at least that's what I think. Otherwise, I don't see the point in someone like me hanging out with that... Scum. For this reason I would like to leave as soon as the problem with the doppelgangers is over.”
Izaack didn't like to argue in his interviews, but this time his sense of justice prevented him from remaining silent.
“With all due respect, I think calling this community a «scum» is inappropriate. I've spoken with most of them, and they seem like people worth getting to know. Maybe… You should try it.”
“... Agree to disagree.”
After these words, he closed the door in his face. No fancy farewells, or anything. Izaack looked at the camera and pressed his lips together; he was not surprised by his stubborn response. At least there was only one more neighbor left to interview. Just one more conversation, and he could finally rest... Oh, right, the appointment with Elenois. Izaack stretched his eyelids as he remembered that, visibly disgusted.
He and his team went down one floor and knocked on the third door. Izaack glanced away for a second, noticing his apartment was just 3 feet to his left. So close, yet so far. When he looked back to the front, he and the coworkers were horrified to see the fresh bloodstains on Margarette's dress and hands. Izaack wanted to run, but he was paralyzed by fear.
“HIIIIIIII!!!!” She yelped, sprinting towards him.
Izaack could just scream as he flinched, dropping everything he was holding to cover his face. However, Margarette didn't jump on him: Instead, she stopped just before crashing, looked at the camera with surprise and then at her hands.
“N-no, no, no, no, no. This ISN'T what you think it is…” She stammered, pushing both hands in the air. “I was helping my daughter give birth!”
Her statement sounded like a typical doppel lie, but Izaack didn't think twice before entering the apartment. His heroic intention was to help her in any way possible.
“NO, MR. GAUSS!!” His cameraman screamed, before entering to rescue him.
Margarette entered behind him, while the rest of the team waited expectantly. Inside the apartment, Izaack couldn't believe what he was seeing: More cats than he could count occupied every corner of the home. They were on top of the table, hiding under the chairs, sitting in front of the windows, and playing with the plants and the mannequins. Some cats even escaped through the open door, and Margarette had to go looking for them. His nose started tingling in less than a second, but he couldn't let his allergy get the better of him. He had to find the woman.
He crossed the living room and the hallway sneezing and trying to wipe away his runny snot, but worse was when his eyes became red and itchy. Now practically blind, he had to lean against the wall and feel his way around with both hands, making sure not to bump into any cats, to find the frame of Margarette’s bedroom and enter. Despite the pain, he opened his eyes as wide as he could to try to see her. However, he found no mother there. At least, not a human one: Lying down over a stained blanket, a white Persian cat was cleaning her newborn kitties in the bed. Around them, more cats watched the miracle of life.
“See? I'm a proud grandmother!” Margarette celebrated, coming next to him. That's when she noticed his symptoms. “... Oh dear.”
The allergy had worsened rapidly, and Izaack felt a sharp chest pain that made him fall to his knees; he tried to breathe consciously to stop it, but not enough air was passing through his lungs. He was suffering an allergic asthma attack.
“My… my tablets… left… door.” He indicated, wheezing with each breath.
Izaack handed her his key and Margarette obeyed immediately. She took it and opened the door, then the cameraman called the rest of the team to help him drag Izaack inside his apartment. They left him on his couch, and all together searched for the medicine between the things in the corner. The process was exhaustive and very stressful, but the writer finally got the theophylline tablets from his suitcase. Next, she handed them to the photographer, who just filled up a glass of water, so he could give everything to Izaack. The immediate effect of the remedy opened his airways, and was able to breathe normally again.
“... Thanks.”
“I'm so sorry, Izaack! I got nervous and- and phrased my words very, VERY wrong.” Margarette apologized, on the verge of tears.
“It… it doesn't matter. By the way… Lois sent me to… to give you canned tuna. I must have left it… somewhere near your door. Now I have to… Go with Elenois.”
Izaack looked at his wristwatch and it read 5 pm. However, when he tried to go up, a sudden headache made him curse for the first time on television. It was one of the pill's many side effects that could happen to him, in any instant.
“Ughhh… shhhit.” He complained quietly, holding his head.
“Mr. Gauss, is that normal?” His cameraman worried.
“Yeah, it's just… Something it does.”
He rubbed his hands against his forehead, as if that would soothe the pain. His team approached and laid him down again, advising that he should rest. Izaack obeyed them with low spirits, and turned around on the sofa until he found a comfortable position, then he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but it was no use. The insomnia and the guilt of letting Elenois down kept Izaack restless for half an hour, at least. Meanwhile, Margarette grabbed the canned tuna bag and went to her apartment, but the co-workers stayed to look after him.
When Izaack recovered a bit, he gratefully invited them to share Nacha’s meatloaf on his table. It was a somewhat basic meal, but anything she could cook was tasty, anyways. At last, Izaack had a moment of quiet, friendly conversation with his teammates, talking about each one’s whole experience filming the documentary. When they were about to cut Margarette's pie for dessert, a few loud knocks on the door interrupted them: It was Elenois, furious as hell.
“HOW COULD YOU?!” She shouted, after they let her in. “You went on a date with my stupid sister, but not with me???”
“Be quiet! Don't you see he's tired?” His cameraman complained.
“And who the fuck spoke to you? I want Izaack to answer me, NOW.”
“I’m sorry I couldn't go, Elenois; but I was recovering from a health issue.” Izaack explained, getting up from his chair.
“Oooh nooo, a health issue!” She responded, mockingly.
Upon saying this, Elenois began to approach Izaack dangerously close, as he backed away. Then, she grabbed his necktie and pulled him down to the level of her face.
“Let me guess: You «coincidentally» just got sick at 5 pm, to sneak off with your buddies and eat that garbage…” She blamed him, pointing to the remains of the meatloaf and the uncut pie. “... When we could have had the best date of our lives at a luxurious sea food restaurant, Izaack, but you missed it out because you're a fucking liar. Are you happy?!”
Her hands gripped the lapels of his suit tightly and tried to shake Izaack, but he was too heavy for her weak arms. Then, Elenois started to bawl intensively over his chest, hoping he would comfort her whim with a hug… And he did, despite the harassment. When she looked up, all her makeup had run out of place.
“I love you.” She whispered, stroking his chest with one hand.
“I… I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry.” He lamented, letting her go.
“What?!”
“We both know I can't act like a heartthrob forever. Even if the audience would love to see us be a couple, I… I wouldn't.”
“But why? Am I not enough for you?!”
“No, no!” He hurried to answer. “That's not what I mean!”
“Then what's your problem? It's because you fell in love with my sister, isn't it?”
“Neither. Please, don't make this more uncomfortable than it is and leave my apartment.”
Elenois took a few steps back, turned around, and walked silently toward the exit. However, she stopped midways and tried to convince him once more, striking a seductive model pose.
“You're losing your only chance with me, the most beautiful woman in the world.”
With a tired look, Izaack sighed profoundly and sat down in the armchair to stare at the window. All eyes were on him, but he wasn't looking back.
“… You f*ggot.” She muttered, before slamming the door.
Her insult pierced him like a bullet in the head, painful and precise. Completely overwhelmed, he dissociated for a few minutes trying to seem unbothered. Against his will, he started to imagine the worst scenarios he could face if his homosexuality came to light: He would lose his job, his freedom, the love of his family, friends and fans. His name would be smeared in black by The Chismoso News, who would prefer to pretend he never worked for them. He would be erased from the family albums, the TV, the history. No one would mourn his death. These and other catastrophic thoughts flooded his mind, until he noticed something. He was left completely alone in his living room. Probably, his teammates told him they had to go, but he didn't listen.
“Finally... Peace and quiet.”
Izaack laid down on the sofa and enjoyed the silence for a moment. Then, he grabbed Arnold’s novel, his reading glasses and the pie from the table; so he could start reading it while eating by the spoonful, before having a nap.
THE END.
