Absolute Contamination

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Standing in front of a door labeled ‘4B’, Christophe hoped to have finally found the correct apartment. Getting hold of the address took him over a year – this did not include the weeks, months even, during which he visited several other addresses registered under the same name. He lost count of the abandoned houses and dead-end leads he encountered over time. However, he held high hopes for this one, above all because it was the second to last address on his list.  

A last time, he repeated in his head the things he would have to tell the person living on the other side of the door. The speech he prepared cost him hours and hours to perfect, but in the end, his carefully chosen words wouldn’t soften the blow. It was this sense of preparedness – albeit a faint one - that brought him to this particular doorstep.

That, and a promise.

Christophe rang the doorbell. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, keeping his fingers crossed. The occupants of the house could be slow or even reluctant to open up to a stranger, which wouldn’t be a first for Christophe. He waited with patience, letting two more minutes pass before he rang the doorbell again.

A clinking of glass against glass came from inside the apartment; proof to Christophe someone was home, straight-out ignoring him.

‘Fine!’ he wanted to shout, but didn’t. To turn and leave would mean giving up, and he was not about to give up without a fight. He banged his fist on the door and didn’t intend to stop banging before he had a chance to explain himself.

A hoarse, male voice shouted through the wooden door, “Not buying!” 

“Not selling!” Christophe answered equally as annoyed. He didn’t cease slamming his fist – the door could crack, for all he cared. “I’m not going anywhere, just so you know!”

Christophe was surprised to see the neighbors hadn’t come out, yet, to complain about the tumult. If they had, he would have been able to show the photograph he carried inside his pocket. He could’ve asked if they recognized anyone in it as the tenant in 4B.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, soon followed by the click of a key in a lock. A thick cloud of cigarette smoke escaped from the apartment as the door swung open. 

 “Jason?” Christophe tried to fight a cough, while waving his hand subtly to rid the smoke. “I’m looking for someone named Jason Haynes.”

“Yeah?”

Christophe released a long, deep breath, struggling with his mixed emotions. On the one hand, Christophe’s relief overwhelmed him, he hadn’t expected to find Keara’s brother. Nevertheless, disappointment washed over him as well. Now that he had found Jason, he was forced to deliver the bad news. 

Once he looked past the unkempt beard, disheveled hair and awkwardly tied bathrobe, Christophe noticed the resemblance between the guy that was close to slamming the door shut in his face and the Jason in Keara’s photographs.

Regardless of the time Christophe spent preparing himself for this specific day, he was at a loss for words. All the effort he put in coming up with the best words to use, and how to explain everything there was to explain, had vanished into thin air the moment the real Jason came into view.

Jason raised an eyebrow at Christophe, glanced down the stairwell and then back at Christophe, to whom these telltale signs of impatience didn’t go unnoticed.  

“I knew your sister,” he blurted. To hell with tactics and softening the blow, he thought. Jason acted like an asshole, and Christophe wasn’t willing to break his promise to Keara because of her idiot brother’s arrogance.