@imaginedragonThere is a passage in a song that keeps going in my head “when this life has gotten you down.” I don’t know why it keeps playing over and over. There are times I’m tapping my foot, bouncing in my seat, to the tempo and the words. The problem is I have not heard the song recently, nor do I feel as though life has gotten me down. I am actually having a pretty good run in life. My job is going well; my personal life is looking up. There is nowhere to go but up from here.
I work as a manager of the Sunrise apartment building. It is not a glamorous job, but the apartment is free, the pay covers my bills and allows me a social life. My social life is looking freaking awesome too. Stella and I met at the pool, while I was cleaning it. She had been living here for about a month. I wouldn’t have known she lived here if I hadn’t rented her the apartment. She never left her apartment the first two weeks.
She asked me if the water was warm, I shrugged. We started talking about the weather, where we use to live, school, and why she moved here. Stella was from Oregon and she moved to LA to go to school. I was thinking she was trying to be an actress, but she said that was not for her. It is not substantial enough to make a good living. She wanted to be an accountant. She loved numbers and how exact they were.
The day was beautiful, warm, and calm. There were no big emergencies, no toilets or sinks to fix. Mrs. Wright did not need help down the stairs; there was no huge spider to kill in her apartment. The day was a lot like her, very calm and beautiful. She smelled of the ocean. Stella made you just want to sit and talk for hours. You were so relaxed, that you would have told her your whole life story, all the dark and dirty secrets without thinking of the consequences. I told her my whole life story, all of it, the good, the bad, and the really ugly.
When we realized the time, she had to get upstairs and get ready for work. When she walked up the stairs I felt as though I was in love and could not imagine letting her go. The day was perfect and she was exceptional. I did realize though, she knew everything about me; I only knew that she grew up in Oregon, her parents were dead, and she moved here for school. She let me talk about myself and commented on what I was saying; but never told me much about her. I brushed it off, maybe she was nervous; maybe I talked too much; maybe she was waiting until she knew me better. There could have been a million reasons, I told myself. I really wish I would have pushed harder.
It has been three months and I still know very little about her past. I know that she goes to the local community college, I pick her up. She works at the local coffee shop, Coffee and Go. I know her favorite color, band, food, book, and how she likes her eggs in the morning. However, no family or friends from Oregon call, she doesn’t even have a cell. I offered to get her one and she just tossed her hair and laughed. Stella did that a lot. She would flip her hair, smile; divert the conversation to something else, whenever I asked any really tangible questions. If I would ask her questions about her past or her family and was not diverted by her standard methods, she would kiss me and sex. Well, as all men know, once sex starts our brains are mush.
It was another gorgeous LA day, the sun was in full swing, the breeze was warm, gentle, and constant. Stella was at class and I had a list to get done, as long as, my arm. Mrs. Wright was also in full swing, with the sun, she had an even longer list for me. She needed to be helped down the stairs at 11 am, she needs her trash emptied, there were three spiders in her apartment, and the dog needed to be walked. In exchange for doing all this work, she gave me a dollar tip. I really did not mind helping her, she had no one. She was a lot like Stella, there was no family, no friends, just me. Mrs. Wright told me her why she did not have anyone. They were all dead.
Mrs. Wrights family was killed in a car accident and there was no one who could take care of her. She did not want to go into a nursing home, because her mom did and died three months later. She told me her mom was like her, active, alert, healthy for the most point, just needed a little help. Within three months she was dead. She was great the first two months; the third month she got really sick; she was dead by the 15th of the month. Mrs. Wright believed it was the nursing home that killed her.
Mrs. Wright was on her way to her appointment, now I had to work on my list, to keep my job. As I approached the front of the building there was a guy, with dark hair, dressed like a typical LA wanna be actor, and looked like one, as well. He was pushing something into one of the mailboxes.
I asked him; “Hey, can I help you?”
Paying more attention to the grounds, than to him. I did not startle him at all. He was eerily calm.
He turned around after he finished putting the paper into the box.
“No man, I good.”
He looked me up and down and looked me directly in the eye and smiled. “I’ll see you around.”
Then he walked away. His eyes were dark, lifeless, like no one was home. What the fuck? I watched him walk away, then started cleaning. I wish I would have checked the mailboxes to see what he had done. To be honest, I didn’t even think of it. I was so worried about losing my job. My list was the only thing on my mind.
Stella came home, got her mail, and was waiting on me. I was walking to meet her, so we could go to dinner. I had a bouquet of flowers I picked for her and we were going to a nice sit down place. No pizza or Mexican tonight, we were going to talk. I wanted to know more about her. The conversation was planned out in my head and I was going to get some answers. That is why we were going to be having this talk at the restaurant no way she could use sex or that beautiful smile, to get out of talking.
Once I reached her, she was in tears. Stella looked at me, with so much fear in her eyes.
“What is wrong?”
“Nothing, just got a sad note from my mom.”
“Sorry, let me see, maybe there is something I can do.”
Touching my face, she said; “You are so sweet. There is nothing you can do.”
She starred at me for the longest time; just leaving her hand on my face. Then she explained that she was not in the mood, since the note, to go out to dinner. She thanked me for the flowers, than told me she was going to go upstairs, to call her mom, and go to bed. She would see me in the morning.
As she walked away, she was not calm, she was a nervous wreck, crying, sad, worried. I just wanted to go and sweep her off her feet, carry her to her apartment, hold her hand while she called her mom, and cuddle her until she fell asleep. I wanted to take care of her, forever. I didn’t do what I wanted, I let her go. I watched her enter her apartment, blow me a kiss, and close the door. She didn’t even turn on the lights.
I went back to my apartment, threw the flowers on the counter, made a frozen pizza, and grabbed a beer. I sat down and watched TV until it was done. Then I played video games for the rest of the night. I fell asleep on the sofa. I woke up to flashing lights and pounding on the door. When I sat up, I was soaked. I looked up at the ceiling thinking it was a leak. No, there was no water. I jumped up, turned the light on, it was blood! WHAT THE FUCK!!!
The door was kicked open and I was told to get on the ground. I was arrested, it was 3 am.
