Wednesday, 30 October 2002 | Mrs. Knoll

This morning I stood outside the brick building where my landlord(s) live. There were four of us congregating there, though I didn't know the others. It wasn't immediately clear that they were waiting for the same person I was waiting for, but for some reason it gave me hope that they wanted entrance into the same building, as if that gave me a better chance. One of them looked like Ioki from 21 Jump Street, and I never noticed the details of the remaining two. I was just aware of two upright bodies behind me, facing the same metal door that I was, hands in pockets, breathing cold smoke.

I kept dialing her number, letting it ring four times, hanging up, letting it ring another four times. It wasn't that I suspected she was there, really; it was that I needed to pay my rent and get to work and I didn't know what else to do, except punch the little buttons and hold the phone to my head. Ioki started yelling her name. Mrs. Knoll! Mrs. Knoll!, always in twos, his voice being swallowed by brick.

I don't know how long we waited there. Eventually one of the cosa nostra walked around the corner, peeling a key off of a keyring as he walked. The others vocally jumped him. Let us in! You can let us in! We climbed the stairs in a tight pack, and the man opened the door to the landlord's apartment. There she was. Well, one of them. Standing there expectant, as if she'd invited this very group over herself, as if she'd answered the phone and pressed the buzzer. But she hadn't.

***

Tomorrow Siouxsie Sioux will be taking the L train, sitting at my desk, cupping a mouse and positioning her dark-rimmed eyes too close to my monitor, visiting my new doctor, and walking in a Halloween parade on a street near my office. Later, she will quietly slip down my drain in a river of soap and water, only to be exhumed again on Friday.