The Neighbors

I awake abruptly by a loud bang. I’m not sure what time it is or even where I am. I was dreaming that college dream again where I’m late and can’t find the final exam room. A sobering second passes and I realize my life now revolves around financial statements, not sitting in the quad at 2 p.m. studying Philosophy and gossiping with my roommates. I stifle and yawn while I utter my usual bedroom refrain, “Alexa, what time is it?” She blinks blue. “It is 1:14 am,” she replies dutifully. I prop up on my elbows and grimace as reality sets in and I realize I’m shockingly not late for anything yet. Oh, how I wish I was late to that final now. What a beautiful thing those REM sleep waves are, carrying me away to those endless sunny days where I am not this person, this roommate less adult paying more than half her monthly income for a not so halfway decent studio apartment directly next to an egotistical swinger and catty corner to a violent married couple who tend to yell, scream, and throw each other up against walls in the middle of the night. A glass breaks and my blanket in the quad disappears underneath me leaving me on my sheets in this dark studio apartment bed.

The couple must be at it again, even though whenever I pass each of their grim, unfriendly faces in the hallway I can tell she is very, very pregnant. My Westiepoo, Croissant, stirs at the edge of my bed from what looks like a lovely dream of her own college experience which I assume is the agility training class we completed a few years ago. She starts barking and I relent. Now that we’ve both been jarred out of our campuses in the sky, I’m up. Croissant’s old age means every time is good time to bring her outside to do her business. I cup her wagging bottom and help her land on her dog bed. Excited at the prospect of a midnight walk she doesn’t need much assistance, her wagging tail propelling her towards the front door. I grab a sweatshirt off the top of the bedroom dresser, throw it on over my pajama top and meet Croissant at the door. I hook the matching leash onto her mermaid collar, and we step into the brightly lit hallway.

I wince and throw my right hand up to shield my eyeballs from the light assault. I hear the door slam behind me at the same time a flash of gray fur appears to my right, pink tongue wagging. Ugh, Jax. Jax is a sweet as pie handsome Siberian Husky the sight of whom only makes my stomach churn due to the owner that will standing behind him. And before you go thinking this is some kind of rom-com, that even though at this moment I feel ‘flames on the side of my face’ towards this jerk today, that in the not-so-near-future when we least expect it, we bump into each other under mistletoe in matching reindeer jumpers and seeing me for the first time in such a Christmassy-fashion, he just can’t help himself, he changes his mind about his lifestyle and pops the question. This is not that kind of story. The reality of the hallway presents to me jumpy, blond Ritalin-addicted misogynist Noah, standing outside the door next to mine. Movies lie.

What a difference a year makes. My move in day, Neighbor Noah literally grabbed boxes out of my hands and asked me where I wanted them placed. The next morning Croissant and I were greeted by a Noah/Jax combo knocking on our door, lattes in one hand, dog treats in the other. Could I be blamed for hoping my Hallmark movie moment had finally arrived?

“Hey Noah,” I groggily and half-heartedly acknowledge him in the hallway now. After our little blowup in my apartment a few months ago I still hadn’t settled on the most effective way of dealing with him. Never having felt comfortable in full time hater mode, I settled on brief yet sanguine pleasantries in and around the building. I could tell he didn’t like it. He wanted back in the inner circle. I stop, take a breath, and remind myself not to care about what he wants. He smiles back at me, apparently oblivious to how much I secretly loathe his prematurely balding head. It’s hard to imagine there was a time I actually found him attractive, but I did.

Those morning coffee walks with our dogs were exciting as well as increasingly frustrating. Days turned into weeks with Noah making no mention of a real date. I consulted the experts, i.e., other women harboring completely unrealistic dating expectations based on Hallmark movie plots.  The jury unanimously agreed on a verdict. I would take the initiative and ask Noah out on a date myself. That night, we sat in my living room - which is also all the rooms - while the dogs sniffed each other intimately near the coffee table. I felt the wine start to soften my sharp, professional edges as we commiserated over the sad state of app dating in this town. He leaned towards me and all I could think in that moment was ‘Thank God I hadn’t settled for any of those losers I’d been hopelessly in love with in the past because then I never would have ended up here in this moment, ready to begin my new life with Noah.’

Now I look at him in the unforgiving fluorescent light of the hallway and see a different person, all surface, wiry manic energy (thanks Ritalin) looking for someone or something to impress. He doesn’t look like he was just woke up. “Hey” he replies back energetically bopping from one foot to the other. Jax lunges with amorous passion towards Croissant pulling Noah in my direction.

“So, they’re at it again,” I say sadly. “I’m going to walk Croissant. Hopefully by the time we get back they’ve calmed down.”

“Yeah, I was in the middle of building my wine rack when it started,” he offers even though no one asked. “You know he’s going to kill her someday,” he unhelpfully informs me. I pause. I’ve said this very thing to him before and his word-for-word reiteration of it stops me in my tracks. Does he feel things?

 “Um, yeah it’s awful,” I hesitate briefly. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

 “I’m going to call the cops again,” he tells me.

We’ve both attempted calling the cops and the front office staff about this before, all to no avail. Notes are taken, reports are filed, and everyone goes to bed.

Do you ever see her alone?” I ask. “Maybe we should ask her directly if she’s ok.”

“I’m calling the cops,” he replies defiantly. “I need to save her.”

And there it is – the savior complex that no single person, or people could ever resolve. I give the leash a gentle tug, Croissant’s cue, and she begins walking excitedly behind me. We round the corner past the elevator to the door to the stairs. I turn and clock the sound of eager panting at our heels. Noah and Jax are right behind us. I open the door to the stairwell and hold it open for them. Noah goes to grab the door, but Croissant and I are moving quickly away from him and the heavy door falls closed, momentarily shutting Noah, Jax and the light out. I hear the door open above as Croissant and I quickly circle down the metal stairs-my eyes focused down. I push the ground level door open, and we find ourselves outside, the cool night air hitting my cheeks and giving Croissant an extra spring to her step. It’s spring in the D.C. suburbs and it’s not a bad night for us to find ourselves on a midnight, impromptu walk. I breathe in crisp air and close my eyes as I hear the slam of the metal door behind me. Our peaceful moment ends.

I reflect back to that night a year ago. It was so full of possibility yet seemed so silly now. Sitting opposite Noah on my couch, I had closed my eyes and leaned towards him, ready to fulfill our destinies as the stars of our own personal rom-com. When I finally opened my eyes to find out the cause of my meet-cute hold up I was surprised to see his open Tinder app greeting my face. He did not register my confusion, so he pressed forward without delay.

“So, let’s swipe on people together.” 

“What?” I asked, not yet comprehending.

To which he responded, “Let’s pick someone out together.”

“You want me to help you find a match?” innocent ole me asked. Perhaps my hometown was smaller than his.

“Well yeah, for us,” he had said. Turns out, as Noah explained to me that night, he also moved to the big city to pursue his hopes and dreams, the kind that involved multiple partners. “Swinging” was the lifestyle Noah abandoned his small Midwest town to pursue, he explained to me that night. Which would have been fine, if he hadn’t kept hooking up with women in the building and telling them after the fact, leaving them crying and despondent in the dog park.

Croissant barks and I’m back to this cold night outside. “Hi, I’d like to report an incident,” his voice fades as I roll my eyes and continue around the corner until he is out of earshot. We don’t make it far before I see Jax round the bend. I turn to my left and begin the longer walk down the side street, hoping to lose our usual suspects but no such luck. Noah begins walking faster to catch up with us, his police call apparently over as he launches into a story about his latest playboy exploits.

“So, I hooked up with that MILF down the hall with those two psycho dogs,” he tells me like he’s bar side with his Navy buddy.

“Abigail?” I accidentally spit out.

“Yeah, she’s like obsessed with me now,” he retorts like this is some great inconvenience in his life.

A brief flash of red threatens my Zen state as I stop and wait for Croissant to smell something. “Shh though for a second,” I say attempting diversion tactic number one. “It’s so still and quiet.” I look up at a chalk black sky teeming with stars, the sight of which is so rarely seen above this hurried metropolis, I stand momentarily in awe. Who cares about this guy? Standing here, under this sparkling phenomenon it’s suddenly so much easier to push my thoughts outward, towards the universe, to see how small Noah and I really are in the grand scheme of things. The universe has been unfolding for billions of years and we get so little of those, so am I really going to let this moron ruin anymore of those moments for me? “Then there’s this other chick…” I cringe. So, yes.

Croissant leads me, Noah and Jax on our usual route down the street to the public dog park. We are the only visitors, the only light radiating from a broken fixture over the basketball court on the opposite side of the park. I enter last and shut the gate behind me. Noah release Jax and he takes off running towards shadow. I bend down, take Croissant’s leash off and she begins her casual smell stroll around the perimeter of the park. Noah is looking at me expectantly and I suddenly feel a twinge of sympathy for him. Who wouldn’t want to be with another human being on this beautiful night? He chooses to be alone, and I feel momentarily sad for him. For both of us.

“I just feel like I need to save her,” Noah says returning to our tragic neighbor situation.

“What?” I ask him. “What do you mean, save her? Have you unpacked that in therapy yet, like what are you talking about?”

“Well, this is why I moved out here,” he begins in characteristic narcissistic fashion. “To meet people and like, other women…”

“What are you going to do Noah, invite her and her unborn child to an orgy in Falls Church?” I spit back. Noah throws a dirty look my way. “What’s your problem?” he asks clearly irritated. I, too, am surprised by this uncharacteristic outburst but all of a sudden, this night, my life, it all becomes clear in this moment. I could choose to waste my precious time on unworthy causes like the one standing in front of me or I could push my thoughts out, to how big the universe is, and suddenly I don’t care what he thinks of me.

“Ok Noah that woman doesn’t need the kind of help you want to provide,” I gesture wildly to the dark around me. In fact, several women in this building don’t seem to be looking for your kind of help, so do us a favor and be upfront with us about who and what you are. Just because it was your fantasy doesn’t mean we have to comply.” I squint and see Croissant coming towards me in the dark. I hook the mermaid up and we exit the dog park. Noah and Jax don’t follow this time.

I stop and think back to my Hallmark movie fantasy – the one where I cast Noah as the romantic lead. Maybe we weren’t so different after all. Who was I to judge Noah for pushing his fantasy life when I too had been guilty of the same thing? Was I mad at him for not playing out his part correctly? The fact that my fantasy was Hallmark-approved didn’t make it anymore real. I look down at Croissant, her smiling face giving me the compassionate nudge I need right now. I turn back and see Noah, head down on his phone. If he, in fact has feelings, I may have just hurt them.

“Listen, Noah, we can be friends, just try to temper your fantasies with reality a little more and be up front with people about what you want,” I tell him sincerely. “Other than that, we’re cool. Now why don’t you be a hero and walk us home?”

Noah looks up from his phone, grins and says, “Sure. You have don’t have to be so crazy about it.”