4
I didn’t hear the piano but I’d called out of work again. Still sick with the same stomach bug, I told them. I’d still be able to get the copy work done remotely. As I entered the lobby I noticed there was an old CRT television set that sort of buzzed and whizzed on a table across from Richard. I rounded its wide and boxy casing and saw what was playing.
I saw a mess of arms and legs and hair. The two on the screen didn’t have one piece of clothing between them and they were going at it. They weren’t going to stop for me. I watched for another moment. It looked like it was from the 70’s because of the bad perms and surprisingly competent camerawork, but that also could have been because of the CRT.
Richard sat at his post, idly flipping through a magazine.
“Have you seen this Richie?”
“Yes sir.”
“Did you think this would liven up the place or something?”
“I didn’t put it there sir. It was there when I got here. I think it’s a protest.”
“A protest?”
“By the Sexists, sir.”
“I see. Have you thought of turning it off?”
“Yes sir, I have.” It seemed that was all he had to say.
I nodded and walked to the cafe.
“He didn’t play again this morning,” I said.
“Sometimes he doesn’t,” said the barista.
“Could I get a coffee? Same as yesterday.”
“Sure. It’s all we have. But we don’t have cream or sugar.”
“That’s alright.”
He went through his process with the vial and the stove and the pour. When he slid my glass over to me he slid a phone with it. The same phone as before, it seemed.
“I didn’t order this.”
“I do what I’m told.”
He’d begun to polish a glass when the phone rang. I knew it was for me. I picked it up and walked away from the barista and answered it.
“Are you loved?” the distorted voice asked.
I shook my head. This shit again? “No. I’m not. I thought I was. Maybe it was true for a time. But not anymore.”
There was silence for what seemed to be a full minute.
“Second question. Do you have anything to lose?”
What did I have? A job. A friend. An upright bass that was in her house. An apartment with an ugly Ikea rug and a TV that didn’t have anything to display.
“Not really.”
Another bout of silence.
“Third question. Do you want her back?”
I didn’t recoil from the phone this time but the question sent a similar shockwave through me. It was too sudden. And too soon.
“I can’t answer that right now.”
There was a click and the voice was gone. I walked back to the bartop and handed the barista the phone.
“Will you be back tomorrow?”
“Probably.”
I sat on my couch and opened my laptop and started my assignment for the day. I was writing for a local magazine about a pizza shop I’d never been to. I looked at the reviews online then stalked the owner online. Every now and again I’d see a fact I knew I could use and wrote it in my notebook nearby. This idle research process took around an hour. There was a striped tabby cat on the fire escape today. It sat there the same as the other and it stared at me and flicked its tail back and forth.
It watched me complete my research and write my 1000 word review. The secret behind the pizza stems all the way back to the owner’s home kitchen. When she was out of work in 2019, she found a love of cooking for her two sons. And their favorite dish? Pizza, of course. One happy customer says their favorite part is friendly service. Surely, it’s a spot that feels like home!
Once I’d finished I removed an egg carton from the fridge along with a tomato and a package of mushrooms. As I fried myself an omelet I heard my phone buzz. I wiped a hand on my jeans and answered the call on speaker.
“Yo!” Eli said.
“Hey Eli.”
“Whatcha up to?”
“Cooking an omelet.”
“I was in the area and I just thought I’d say hello. I’m out front of your apartment, actually.”
I went downstairs and let him up.
“So this is your place, huh?”
“Yup. A living room, a bathroom, and a bedroom. All I need.”
“I don’t like the rug.”
“Me neither.”
He opened my fridge, found a beer, and took a seat on the couch. I plated my omelet and ate a piece of it.
“There’s a party tonight.”
“Is there?”
“A friend of mine is throwing it. At this rooftop bar near the center of the city. You wanna come?”
“I may stay in tonight. I’m almost through my book, and I’ll need to go to the office tomo-”
“That’s some sad shit right there. What’s wrong with one night out?”
“I’m really not feeling it Eli.”
He looked at me and tsked.
“You having a moment?”
“Something like that.”
“What happened?”
“I was asked if I want her back this morning.”
He nodded. “And do you?”
Then, I was back in that house.
The front door was open and the husky was on the porch. He laid on his stomach, tongue hanging out of his mouth. It was a hot day and he had long fur that shed too much for my liking. I took off my shoes by the door and got myself a cold beer from the fridge. I sat on the couch for a while and thought of watching TV. I heard some 80’s pop rock emanating from our speaker system upstairs. I never liked that stuff. She couldn’t get enough of it. Seems that we were both home from work early.
“You don’t know, do you.” It wasn’t a question. An accusation, perhaps.
“No, Eli, I don’t. I guess I’ve gotta think about it.”
“Alright.” he got up, still holding his beer. “I’ve gotta head back. If you want to come just text me. It’ll be fun, and you’ll meet a bunch of new people.”
“Ok,” I said, standing up with him. I opened the door for him and saw Linda walking down the hallway. She smiled at me. Her lips were still magenta.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey. This is Eli. Eli, this is Linda.”
“Nice to meet you Linda.”
They shook hands and she turned to me.
“Are you going to the speeches tonight?”
“The speeches?”
“Tom and Cecile. They’re giving speeches in the lobby. Should be funny, at the very least.”
“I might go.”
“Good. They only care about two groups of people. The undecided and the disinterested. They hope to help one group decide, and make the other group interested.”
“Makes sense.”
“Since you’re a dual citizen you may just be the guest of honor.”
“I’ll think about it, I promise.”
She and Eli left. I closed my door and finished my omelet.
After some thought I decided to go. I figured it would be a pain to miss something important and hear about it from Richie the next day. That man, like everyone else in this building, confused me. At the very least Linda would be there.
The lobby had been redecorated. Most notably the porn was gone and there was a semicircle of chairs surrounding an open spot where the porn used to be. I saw Linda leaning against the back wall. I walked over to her.
“So you came.”
“It wasn’t a long commute.”
We stood and watched as the room began to fill. I’d been early.
“Don’t you think the seating arrangement was a little ambitious?” I asked, motioning to the dozens of empty chairs.
Linda shrugged. “If there’s one thing Cecile and Tom both want, it’s to feel important. In their minds it’s probably a given that they’ll sell the place out.
The semi–circle had reached half capacity.
“So you’re for Cecile?” I asked.
“Sure am.”
“Why’d you pick her?”
“Because she’s not Tom.”
“What’s she like?”
“Well… that’s a good question. I suppose her most relevant qualities are that she isn’t Tom and she’s running against him.”
I chuckled. “I’m starting to see the appeal.”
A middle-aged woman in an obnoxiously bright green pantsuit walked to the middle of the open space and waved a hand to the crowd unnecessarily. We were entirely quiet already. After a few moments Tom rose from his chair and joined her. He wouldn’t let the woman get stage time without a fight.
My phone buzzed and I opened the notification. Eli had texted me. ‘What do you know about Linda? Your neighbor.’ It looked like the two candidates were ready so I put my phone away.
“Thank you all for coming!” the woman said with a voice that resonated throughout the room. It was the sort of voice that traveled even when you didn’t want it to. “My opponent and I welcome you to the first of three campaign events for the role of Community Manager in this building. Tonight’s event will be opening remarks from both candidates. Sometime soon we’ll schedule a debate at which I hope to see each and every one of you, then after that another event like this one for closing remarks. I do hope-”
“I hope you’ll listen attentively, ask any questions you may have of us, and when the time comes, go to the voting booth,” Tom said. “Our community is made greater from each and every one of your involvement. I speak for both my opponent and myself when I say we’d be nothing without you.”
Cecile was smiling. She clearly didn’t want to while Tom was talking. But she was smiling regardless.
“Without further ado,” she said, “Let’s progress with opening remarks. This will be followed by an open Q and A session.”
The speeches were mundane and uninteresting. Two self-important people, blissfully unaware of their self importance, professing their self importance. I looked at the crowd. They looked mildly more interested than me, which wasn’t saying much. Why had they come? I was told these were factions. Generally factions have more ardent supporters.
Linda touched my arm. “This is terrible,” she whispered in my ear. Her breath felt frosty and it woke me up. She left her hand where it was.
“You were the one who told me to come.”
“I thought it would be a little bit more interesting.”
“We could go get drinks again.”
“I want to stay for the Q and A,” she said. “I’m gonna try and fuck with them. After that I’ve got a thing that I said I’d go to.”
I nodded. “Good luck,” I said.
I walked back upstairs. I was tired and there was half an apple pie in my fridge.
The door across the hall from mine was open. A black cat with green eyes sat in front of the door frame and looked inward. It was focused on something.
I approached the door and looked inside. The woman with the frizzy hair was sitting cross legged in the middle of her living room. I blinked. Inside there were seven cats that I could see. Six of them were lounging around. One was on its back as the woman spoke to it.
“I see,” she said as she thumbed her chin. Her voice was deeper and more measured. It had lost its melody but gained normalcy in the process. “How curious. Yes, I do suppose there’s logic behind it, at the very least. Well, he’s always been a bit on the dull side…”
I stepped inside and knocked on the door. She snapped out of her trance and looked back over her shoulder at me.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hey,” she said in her high pitched voice. The song had returned.
“They’re leaking.”
“What?”
“Your cats. When you leave the door open they get out.”
She rotated on the floor, maintaining her crossed legs. She was frowning a little bit.
“Did ya want one?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Ya will. They told me.”
“The cats?”
“They told me you’ll want one. When ya do, all you’ve gotta do is let me know.”
“Alright.”
“Was there something ya wanted to talk about?”
“Not really.”
“That’s not normally true ya know…”
“You mind if I ask you about politics?”
“No, not at all.”
“What side of this turf war are you on? Cecile’s? Or Tom’s?”
“Neither.”
Of all people, she was the one who’d given me the response I’d been expecting this whole time. Maybe I was the problem.
“Why not?”
“They don’t talk to me much. I just kinda stay out of their way, I think it makes em’ happier that way. But that doesn’t mean I gotta vote for em’.”
“Hey,” I started, “what’s your name?”
“Zoe.”
“Alright Zoe. Hey, have a good rest of your night.”
She smiled. It was wide and toothy but it was less horrible than before.
“You too.”
I laid on my couch and thought of whether or not I should have convinced Linda to leave and get drinks. It wouldn’t have taken all that much of a push. I also could have stayed as she had her fingertips on my arm. But I’d left and now I was alone aside from my Ikea rug and a white cat on my balcony and a copy of Zola that wanted to be finished.
The husky walked inside still panting. He walked up to me and I scratched him behind the ears and he looked at me. It was all too new. Did this mean he wanted to go on a walk? A snack? Had he shit somewhere and wanted me to pick it up? I started walking upstairs and the rock music got progressively louder. It was a terrible song with the most basic chord progression in the book. It was all the lead guitarist could do to strum the same four power chords over and over. He sounded like he was fighting a war to play the song. I sighed. That band had sold more records than a jazz bassist like myself could ever hope to. But did they have the same satisfaction as me? I reached the top of the stairs and heard her laugh. It was barely audible over that horrible song. But I heard it. Damn, that music was loud. I walked into the bedroom.
Odds and Ends 