Me and my upstairs neighbors have an intimate relationship, whether they know it or not. “Did you leave your windows open?”
“Nah, my car flooded on Neil. You get locked out?”
“Yeah, the keys won’t work.” She sat on the porch steps of our apartment building wearing a baby T, tight jeans and purple ombre hair. The key thing didn’t surprise me. Our apartment complex’s pretty ancient; my window and bedroom doors get stuck when I close it. Our laundry room flooded and now apparently the locks are rusted.
She lived with the guy right above me– a later addition to his living arrangement. They smoked weed almost everyday, blasted music and had sex. Sometimes the guy jumped on the bed or around the room and would start rapping and singing. I’ve fallen asleep while the sex’s happening, woken up at 3 am because of it, woke up at 7 am and they’re still up. Stop it, cut it out, she’d flirt. Don’t they ever sleep? While scarring at first, I’ve come to accept it as a part of life.
Today I woke up to something different. A thunderous amount of thuds; it felt like someone was banging against my ear. I heard the girl: “Get off me!”
“What, I’m big enough for you? I’m big enough?” Thud thud thud. The yelling wasn’t out of the usual, but I increasingly grew concerned. “Did you fuck my brother! Did you fuck my brother!”
“No! I never said that!” It didn’t matter what she said.
“Did you fuck my brother!” He was maddd. She walked around the apartment and he followed. “Just go! GO! LEAVE!”
“I never said that! …I’m sorry!”
My first thought: is he gonna hit her? “I’m sorry!” The lover’s quarrel really wasn’t my problem though.
“What about my music career!” he yelled. I started to make myself some food and turned on Parks & Rec. Eventually it sounded like someone walked out. That’s rough.
A few days later they had make up sex and I was back to filing noise complaints.