The keys
(Ideally) A series of texts (this is the first one) exploring the different selves that we are by using the different languages we know. I wonder if they’re really so different.
As simple as that. What’s the meaning of such an object? They open places, they start cars, I bet they let you keep secrets. I grew very fond of keys some years ago. It is not like I collect them, but I have thought about them and I have some particular stories in which the keys played a central role...
While my parents and I waited for our new house to be ready, we went to stay for some months at a cousin’s house. Adapting to other family space and routine is not something that I would consider fun. People have a lot of weird habits, meaning I have a lot of quirky habits, and you start getting into a game of trial and error just until you find yourself the most comfortable you’re gonna be. Mom and Dad weren’t up for the game and went out of the city while this time passed. I was awarded a set of extra keys of our cousin’s home and off I went into my new routine. Best thing of it all besides having a key, sharing with the family.
Have you had that dreadful feeling of leaving your keys at home and knowing there won’t be anyone to open when you get there? My friends who live on their own can identify with this, I’m sure. But what if there’s a twist to it. You have the keys... but you can’t seem to make them open the door. That happened the night of my birthday celebration, I arrived at my cousin’s place just to spend a while trying to open the door. 4 am. You don’t want to wake up anyone but you’re freezing outside (Bogota freezing, though... never even close to Montreal freezing). You don’t want your efforts to sound like a burglar trying to get in. Finally, I had to call many times for someone to open the door, to realize that the only key that I didn’t have was the one that except for this day, was unusually locked - my cousin locked it just minutes before I got there, thinking I was already at home.
Time after, I start the crazy enough MMIAM program. Working on the lease papers from two weeks before, I thought things were going to be ok. I had a roommate and great luck from the start, because she is American and was also doing her lease papers in advance. Long story short, I never got the key to this place. There was no way for me to fulfill the requirements to be an appropriate tenant according to all their rules, which made no sense, especially for international students. This key was a rubber-like thingy, with an electronic whatever inside. No way to go to The Home Depot and get a make your own copy in one of those fun machines (Mom, Dad and I have our custom sets of keys made in one of these, it was so much fun, believe me). I spent a lot of time with my roommate, which eased up things. At first, this apartment complex had the front door usually open, so I would just agree on arrival times with my roommate and depending on that, we could leave the door unlocked. It became harder because they started to keep all outside doors locked. I would try to sneak into the place through the garage door. I was paying rent. That’s so stupid. I couldn’t even give away the things I was not taking to Montreal because my roommate wasn’t there anymore and the girls from the administration would not open the door for me. Even having my roommate calling. Of course, better for them as they charged me to get rid of that stuff.
Montreal was a pretty relaxed place in relation to keys. A very relaxed place in general. They just asked us to leave our keys in an envelope in the mailbox when leaving.
We came a long way... from the rubbery-electronic key to the old-fashioned key in Milan. We had the same problem I had back at my cousin’s place but not for the same reason. Old-fashioned keys and locks are just a bit difficult to operate. It still wasn’t fun to be on a rush and try to open the door with no luck. No major incidents, except that one of my roommates left the key in another city, to which we were definitely not going back any time soon. We spent (or we lost) some time rambling about the landlord complaining and charging us for the copy of the key, which never happened. A copy we imagined as expensive as the electronic one, just by its old and odd looks.
What’s the meaning of the key? Of the one that you have, but doesn’t open the door? Of the one you don’t have and even though, you feel entitled to the place? Of the one you leave inside the apartment, or inside the car (that too: it has happened to me repeatedly)? Of the one that is not yours... or which is only temporarily yours? Maybe there is no special meaning. However, I couldn’t be more thrilled when my cousin’s wife told me to keep the keys, to mean both literally and figuratively, that there is a place for me in their house. And I couldn’t be more grateful to my classmates for all the fun that we had, more than enough to forget that I had no keys... though that meant a lot of improvising... to keep finding ways to get into one’s place. Literally and figuratively.