CHAPTER 19: Wolf Song

The sounds of howling night after night gradually evolve from haunting to some kind of comfort. As eerie as a wolf song is, it is still a song.

As time goes by, Bernie decides to join in. I can tell he can't resist. When Luna's sounds reach us, Bernie groggily stands up and squares himself off as he faces in her general direction, throws his head back and begins to answer. His voice is a different pitch but the lyrics are the same.

An assortment of gifts has begun to accumulate at the girl's door off the lobby. At first I think she is leaving items outside her own door, but it soon becomes obvious that is is someone else -- or many someones.

As soon as our feet hit the bottom step each day, Bernie uncharacteristically drags me across the lobby to her door to investigate. He sniffs and snorts and tries to nibble.

Vases of flowers, a big loaf of French bread, a tiny box wrapped in shiny silver paper with a minute lavender bow, a white waxed bag from the bakery, a long string of orange and black fabric Monarch butterflies attached to the top of the door frame with a tack... This morning a delicate pink ribbon is tied around the doorknob. The ends cascade gracefully down the door to the floor.

It was all quite beautiful at first and I'm certainly curious to see what appear next.  I even fight off the temptation to sneak down in the middle of the night and add something myself. What would it be? A dog bone for Luna? Diapers? Something more fanciful perhaps. Two feather boas? A jar of pickles?

Nothing is ever moved from the doorway so it all begins to pile up. With time, the flowers have wilted then turned black, their vases now filled with thick green water that emits a pungent stench.

The various foods are in ripe stages of decomposition -- the molding, yeasty smell of bread, puddles of what began as firm symmetrical pieces of chocolate, a parchment paper wrapped around what must have been a sandwich, now covered with darting black gnats.

Their smells mix with an overwhelming earthy odor of warm milk.

Bernie makes that snuffling noise along the bottom of the door like there is something lurking just inside. An image of Luna with her red painted nails and milk-swollen breasts pops into my mind. Is she lying just on the other side, silently listening to Bernie as he sniffs along the door? Probably.

I know residents are beginning to complain about the smell in the lobby. I am astonished that Bibi and Heloise would ever allow such a thing to continue. I got in trouble just for taking the elevator.

When I ask Pierre about it, he just shrugs. I can't tell if the shrug means "I don't know" or "I can't tell."

"Who is she?" Shrug.

"Is she related to Bibi and Heloise?" Shrug.

"Who is leaving all of these things at the door?" Shrug.

Finally, an answer:
"When is the baby due?" 
"Soon," he says.