Beth

“Shops here open at around five o’clock in the morning,” I tell Kaiser, still seated in the driver’s seat, yawning loud. I, in the passenger’s seat, glance at the surroundings of the alley, where it once had a notorious record. While trying to keep my eyes open, I slap my face many times like catching mosquitoes.

He parked the car on the right side of the curb, near a flower shop. For the sake of getting a valuable information, we endure an early morning sacrifice. While waiting, we sleep until the shops open.

As soon as the slight creak vibrates my ear, I startle. Kaiser wakes from a sudden jolt. As soon as he opens his eyes, he looks at the flower shop owner unlocking the shop. “Let’s go,” he unlatches his seat belt and hops off of the car. I follow him behind.

He approaches the old guy around his late fifties. “Good morning sir.” The old man spins and sees Kaiser with a smile.

“Good morning there, son,” he says with a warm welcome. “It’s good to have a man as our first customer, Delia.” Kaiser looks at the old woman inside the shop in a floral apron. I assume his wife, arranging the flower pots in a neat array near the entrance.

She goes nearer the glass door and beckons to come inside. Without a word, we enter the shop and Kaiser, in hopes of getting a new lead, pretends to buy a bouquet of flower. A bouquet of white baby’s breath. An uncommon buy I have seen in a flower shop. The majority buys a bouquet of roses, not a bouquet of baby's breath. At its peak, on a Valentine’s Day. The saddest day of my life in the past twenty-one years.

“Oh, man. You love this woman, don’t you, young man?” the old man asks.

He flushes and looks at me, completely puzzled. “Why?” Kaiser looks confused.

“Do you know the meaning of buying a bouquet of baby’s breath?” Both Kaiser and I shake our heads. The old man shrugs it off and turns away, facing his wife, who also smiles reaching both ears.

What’s the big deal with baby’s breath?

While I pretend to choose a pot of flowers, I look at the old woman and somehow try to have a good timing to ask my inquiry. When she finally faces in front of me, I approach her and ask. “Do you mind if I ask something?”

I glance at Kaiser, who’s looking at me, nodding while trying to distract the old man from us. She nods. “What do you mean when a man buys a white baby’s breath?”

She immediately smiles and gestures to approach her closer. My ears closer to her mouth. She whispers, “It means a long lasting love.” She giggles and glances at Kaiser, waving her hand.

I flush out of the blue assuming those flowers are for me. I shake my head, trying to deny it. Why would he do it in the first place?

I clear my throat and follow her behind while she continues arranging the pots. “Do you know where Alexandra Montenegro lives around here?”

She turns cold, glancing at her husband beside Kaiser talking silly stories in his youth. Her stares change as if she feels suspicious of us. I press my lips trying to make some useful alibis at this dire situation. “W-we’re curious you know. We know the past of the town, this alley. So, do you think it’s nice to tell us about it? You know we want to know about those times.”

She scoffs and continues arranging the flowers in their pots. “Who wouldn’t know a criminal like her?” She utters the word with sarcasm mixed with anger. She lifts the pot to the other side, grunting.

Before she grabs another one, she turns her head to look at me and back to the soil. She starts shoveling with a slight aggression, as if she's pissed. “Of course, I know where she lives before. In fact, the landlady who owns that abandoned apartment is my friend.”

“For real?” I sputter out of surprise. “Can you take us to her?” My whole body is in tremor as the lead for the next clue is nearing. I couldn’t wait to visit Alexandra’s private territory. I hope there is something for us to uncover after a long time.

She grimaces, raising her eyebrow and furrowing them together as if she’s doubtful to give in to my request. “Is that the only reason you’re here at this hour?”

I shake my head, denying the fact she slapped on my face, while I keep my attention to the red roses in front of me. “Be honest with me, dear. Why do you want to know about this? You know she’s a dirt on the society. Why you young people want to know about her life?”

I gulp thinking of reasons to answer her questions. Kaiser may have heard our conversations that made him interrupt. “Because we are curious about her life. Aren’t you curious, too, madam?” He stares at her that causes her to melt.

Oh, even an old woman, Kaiser?

I roll my eyes when she bats her eyes, flirting on a young man. Kaiser’s aggressive move seems to take an effect. She beckons to head outside without a word. “Where are you going?” the old man asks. She points out to the nearby shop. The landlady of the abandoned apartment.

We follow her behind as she strolls greeting the folks around until we arrive at the shop, still closed. She knocks on the glass door and yells, “Soledad!” She calls her name many times until another old woman opens the door. She grunts loud, as if she isn't up for visitors in an early morning. She goes out to peek. I notice the curler on her head in disarray after a whole night sleep forgetting her nightly regimen. The flower shop owner laughs it off.

“What the hell are you doing, Consolacion!” She sputters in a hoarse shrieking manner. She glances at us, the only youth among the old folks. “Who are these people?” She points her index finger while looking at her friend.

“They want to see the abandoned apartment.”

“Eh? But why? What’s there to see? It’s scheduled to demolishing anyway. It’s completely abandoned so there’s nothing nice to see there,” the landlady exclaims.

“Is it scheduled?” Kaiser asks, interrupting the conversation between the two old women. The landlady nods without hesitation pout her lips as if she provokes her sarcasm at us. “Can we take a tour there? You know, we want to see how it looks like inside.”

While he explains, he instinctively holds the landlady’s hands, squeezing them tight. He bats his eyes. I am flabbergasted with how much effort he does to seduce these women. His tactic works with the same effect.

After the short conversation, the landlady rushes inside to get the keys. She goes out the house and beckons to follow her to the building at the next block. The flower shop owner leaves to return to her husband.

We follow the curb curving to the right and cross the street, walking a few steps towards the dead end. Revealing the old three-story building. The walls, filled with vandals from gangs in the past, made of bricks. We are both in awe of such a sight we find. We can't believe we stand in front of the apartment. The place where the country’s most notorious assassin once lived twenty years ago.

For a historian and curious tourists like us, this is a great treasure and worth-keeping. But for the residents here, it is a mere reminder of the painful past they’ve gone through. And they wish to have it gone from their sight. Albeit, at least we manage to get here before it turns to dust for good.

We enter the ground floor as the landlady opens the office near the entrance. Kaiser and I roam around and see the dirty white walls. The old vintage couches placed near the office with a wooden small living room table. Underneath are the old magazines from the 1970s to the late 1990s gathered in disarray. While facing the right side, we see a cafe or a mini store, covered with graffiti.

Cracks looking like veins fill the walls from the ceiling down to the floor. Like Uncle Lucas’s secret room, the apartment emits a stench of the cigarettes and dust. The cabinets at the corner as well as the bar covered with thick dust collected for almost two decades.

Above us are the cracked bulbs along with wires hanging around the ceiling. The building looks, as if it is already prepared for the demolition team’s arrival anytime soon. When she unlocks the doorknob, she turns her head and face at us. “You can go upstairs if you want. You can take your time after satisfying yourselves with the history of the building. You know this building saw a lot of the past. If you know what I mean,” she says in a hoarse voice, aged and a bit husky.

“Do you know where Alexandra Montenegro’s room was?” She nods without hesitation as if she doesn’t care about the name itself.

“301,” she says, throwing the keys to Kaiser, who catches it in his big hands. We nod as we head upstairs until we reached the third floor.

We search the specific room the old landlady informs. Unlike the first two stories, the third floor seems to have a different feel. And somehow I am glad we visit the place during the day because it has a dark vibe at night.

Though the first two stories look destroyed by the world war, the third floor feels different. The rooms are in rows from 309 to 301—located at the dead end near the fire exit ladder—with the walls covered with holes. The further we go, the more holes there are.

My eyebrows furrow wondering what exactly happened in this area. Was there a gunfight between these rooms before? That seems scary. Did Alexandra live in such situation?

“Here it is,” Kaiser taps my shoulder when he finds the Room 301. Right then, my chest tightens, throbbing too loud and fast. Especially we’re at the front door of Alexandra’s private and secluded life. Even Aunt Marissa and Aunt Jessica have never been in her place. Not once.

“You couldn’t imagine how deep she was. You could only see a facade of her. You couldn’t see the image deep within her. Because she completely shut it off.” - Aunt Jessica

With the key in his hand, he inserts it and unlocked the door. My heart throbs fast when he finally turns the knob and opens the room, revealing an awful sight inside the room.

“Scheiße,” Kaiser cusses as he muzzles; while I am jaw-dropped of the room’s appearance.

“What the hell happened here?” I say, covering my mouth with my hands. Mortified.