He gathered up all his clothes, every jacket, all his socks
and underwear, t-shirts, his sweat pants, slacks, dress shirts, his favorite
pair of jeans, two belts, suspenders, an overcoat, an old ball cap, his tennis
shorts, five silk ties, and finally his tuxedo and threw everything in to a big,
garden sized, plastic bag. The bag contained almost every piece of clothing he
owned.
Next he dug out of the bottom of the closet all his shoes and
boots and threw them into a plastic bag. He was wearing an old pair of jeans
and a black t-shirt and a pair of brown loafers. A black leather jacket was
left hanging on the back of a chair placed before his desk.
He picked up the two plastic bags and carried them out of the
room. The biggest bag he had to place on the floor to open the door to the
apartment. He picked up the bag and carried both bags out into the landing and
pushed the door shut with the heel of his foot.
He had to carry the biggest bag in front and the smaller one
behind to negotiate the narrow spiral staircase down to the communal garage and
out to the street. He placed both bags curbside. Too bad I am so big, he
thought, all the homeless here in Bogotá are too small to wear any of the shoes
and clothes.
He went back up to the apartment. He packed up his laptop in
his well-used canvas briefcase. He gathered up his Eagle Creek neck wallet that
was beat up but held his passport, and credit cards, and a creased picture of
his wife and hung it around his neck. He grabbed the black leather jacket and
shrugged into it. He was leaving a lot of stuff behind that he once thought was
important—tennis rackets, camera tripod, all his artwork framed and hanging on walls
all over the apartment, the first bed he had ever bought and probably the last
he would ever buy.
He picked up a wad of pesos and stuffed them in the left
front pocket of his jeans. He went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He
rinsed the tooth brush and put it wet into the inside breast pocket of the
leather jacket. He used the toilet and flushed it. He took a quick look at
himself in the mirror. He looked at the guy who had screwed up.
He turned away, shut the bathroom light off, and walked down
the hall and out of the apartment. Outside on the street he flagged down the
first cab that came by and climbed into the back seat. He watched the third
story apartment disappear as the cab turned onto El Dorado Avenue.
“Fuck it,” he said aloud to himself.
