Definitely Not a Thing

Chapter 1 Amelia

amelia

If you asked me – with full recognition that no one did, actually – fatalism was a character flaw. Like it was actually wild to me to wake up with movement in your limbs, breathe in your lungs, and logic in your mind, and not be able to find anything to be positive about.

However.

I would be a liar if I pretended that, at this particular juncture of my journey, I didn’t understand and unfortunately relate to the age old adage of:

Fuck my life.

Like… I felt that shit.

Real bad.

“You already back? That was quick!” Arthur cackled from the front stoop as I hopped down from the elevated seat of the moving truck. My gaze cut in his direction, finding his eyes under the weathered brim of the Arthur’s Refrigeration cap he thought hid his premature balding.

“Literally shut the fuck up!” I yelled, wiping the goofy grin off his face.

Okay.

Fine.

I didn’t actually say that.

I really, really wanted to though.

Instead, I settled on, “Mind your business,” which only generated more – annoying ass – laughter as I trudged up the front steps of the building with a box of immediate essentials under my arm and a set of unfamiliar keys in the opposite hand.

He did at least open the door for me.

I ignored his commentary as he did that “favor”, knowing that if I engaged, the chances of me crashing out were through the stratosphere.

I was determined to be cool.

I was cool.

Everything was cool.

Why wouldn’t things be cool?

What wasn’t cool about getting broken up with by a man you’d moved in with less than six months ago, signing a lease for your dream brownstone only for it fall through because of construction issues, forcing you to move back into the same building as your ex?

Your own unit, though.

So… it was cool.

It was so, so fucking cool.

Icy, even.

Fuck my life.

The “new” unit was on the second floor, so I didn’t even bother waiting for the elevator – I took the stairs up, hoping that the music radiating through the building would be somewhere in the distance.

Which, was probably where I went wrong.

Because why would I hope that?

Why would I think it would work out in that way for me?

Why wouldn’t the loud, explicit version of goddamn Splash Waterfalls be coming from right next door to the apartment I was supposed to be moving into?

No reason.

Because it was.

With the door open, and people loitering in the hall with red solo cups in their hands, looking at me like I was the crazy one for daring to try to get through.

Of course this was the way this turned out.

Of course it was.

“Ay, you need help with that?” I heard, from somewhere above me but not the voice I carried in my head for God.

Out of nowhere, hands were on the box I’d been carrying, “helping” take the load off.

Now, admittedly, it was hella heavy, and the corner pressed into my thigh had been bearing most of the weight and almost certainly creating a bruise, so it actually was a relief.

Physically.

Mentally, emotionally, primally, though?

“What I need is for y’all to get out of the way and stop making all this damn noise!”

Okay.

Fine.

I didn’t actually say… oh.

Shit.

Did I actually say that?

If I had to judge based on the dirty looks from the folks in earshot in the hall, and the screwed-up face that belonged to the “helping” hands…

Yeah.

I said it.

And I meant it.

I just like… didn’t mean to say it.

“Oh. That’s whassup,” the deep voice from above said, unceremoniously shifting the weight of the box back into my arms – back to my arm. Not my leg, where I’d actually been carrying it, which resulted in an embarrassingly un-immediate drop to the floor.

Thank the lord I believed in good tape.

Instead of all the box contents spilling out, it simply hit the ground with a resounding thump that brought any attention that hadn’t been pointed my way… pointed my way.

Wonderful.

“I didn’t mean to say that!” I called in the direction of my “helper”, who was long gone by now. I put on the tight smile of someone who’d run into a coworker, retrieved my box, and continued my journey a few more feet, to the door of the place I’d be calling home for the next few months.

At least, that’s what Chase – the realtor -had claimed the timeline was.

We’d see.

Only because of the way the rest of the day had been going was I concerned about what the apartment was going to look like. I’d lived in the building for six months already, and before that, had been coming and going and staying over with my ex for years.

Two, to be precise.

It wasn’t a perfect building by any means – The Foundry was historic, and constantly being renovated, with the style of each unit controlled by whoever rented the place at the time. The concept was actually quite cool, and one of the reasons I’d been sad to move out.

Besides the whole relationship of two years going kaput of it all.

I was supposed to be moving into a gorgeous restored townhouse though.

I would be moving into that gorgeous restored townhouse.

In three months.

Surely I could avoid one man in a ten-unit building for three months, right?

Inside the apartment, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the unit’s previous tenant had kept with lots of the original features – exposed brick, exposed ceiling beams, plaster walls.

Back then those choices had been money-saving moves rather than aesthetic choices, but it was beautifully on trend now.

It wasn’t my townhouse, but it would do just fine.

I took a look around, checking faucets, switches, hinges, drains, corners and crevices, making sure everything worked as it should and that I wouldn’t have any surprise wildlife encounters.

Once I was satisfied with that, I plopped down on the hardwood of my temporary living room, with my box.

Using my keys as a knife, I popped the tape and began removing the things I’d determined I would need for the night without having to unpack the van.

A change of clothes.

Toiletries.

Blow-up mattress.

Linens.

Chargers for my electronics.

My laptop.

My journal and pen.

A few bottles of water.

Snacks.

Anything else I might need was either already in the truck I’d borrowed or another quick Proxy order away thanks to the cell phone in my pocket.

I spent the next thirty minutes showering and getting comfortable, then the thirty after that setting up my little spot on the floor, then checking in on work items I’d been unfortunately neglecting.

Proxy itself was my baby, a whole small – but succesfull!

—business I was responsible for. The last week of my life had been spent in a tailspin – one I needed to re-route before it veered too far off course.

Which… obviously easier said than done.

Especially when…

Shit.

Was I really about to admit to myself, finally, that I was actually…

… hurt?

Oh.

Okay.

According to the sudden, fresh prickle of tears in my eyes… yes.

Yes, I was.

As much as I hated that it was the case, the unexpected end of a nearly three year relationship was not something I could simply brush off and easily move on from – at least, that’s what the logical parts of my brain were processing.

Had been processing.

I’d been moving on autopilot really, as soon as I realized my new reality. I’d found a new place immediately – and it felt quite serendipitous for my dream place to be available right when I needed it. I packed my shit, ignored the maybe we should talk about this more pleas, and got my ass on.

And now I was back.

Unfortunately.

I blew out a sigh and closed my laptop, knowing that work was out of the question now that I’d let myself travel down this emotional path. I put my earbuds in instead, turned the lights and temperature down, got under my blanket and closed my eyes while Sza crooned in my ears.

Perfect self-loathing vibes.

I hated being fatalistic, really.

I thrived on finding the positive, getting things done despite the barriers, blah, blah, blah.

But man… this was really, really fucked up.

I would get through – what the fuck is that?

I sat up on my mattress, squinting as if it would help me hear better. From somewhere – likely next door – I could literally feel the bass reverberating. I glanced at my phone to check the time – approaching midnight, which was well past the nine-o-clock noise rule.

I groaned as I weighed my available options. I didn’t want to move in and immediately start the Karen antics, but I could barely hear my own music directly in my ears over theirs.

That was just egregious.

With that in mind, I neatly removed a page from the back of my journal, taking a moment to scribble a quick note.

Hi neighbor! It’s quite late, and the music is quite loud – any chance we can make some adjustment? Thank you!

Was it the most polite?

No.

But it wasn’t as rude as it could be, considering they were bothering me.

Instead of knocking, I slid the note under the door – surely somebody from the party would find it and deliver to whoever the actual tenant was.

I was barely back inside my apartment when the music stopped completely, bringing a smile to my face.

“Thanks, neighbor,” making a mental note to formally introduce myself the next day, to make sure there weren’t any weird vibes.

My earbuds went back in, sad music on, covers tuck—WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT.

I sat straight up, again, as Big Sean repeated “Ass, Ass, Ass,” over and over – the chorus of his song colloquially known by the same damn name.

Somehow, it was louder than before.

Oh.

Oh.

I hopped right back out of the bed, grabbing my keys and cell to stow in my pockets before I stomped out of my apartment back into the hall.

This time, I did knock, like I was the police at that.

I was not an angry, confrontational kinda girly, but this?

“You’re about to see a motherfucker hammer time,” I grumbled under my breath, hands propped on my hips as I waited for somebody to answer the door.

I had my fist poised to knock again when it swung open, putting me eye-to-nipple with a man who started the interaction with a condescending chuckle.

“Damn – you mad as fuck, huh?” he laughed more, as I tipped my head back to really see him.

Why the fuck would he be this fine?

Smooth brown skin, strong jaw, wide nose, lots of thick, healthy hair – on his head and face.

Was that necessary?

Fineness aside, my brows furrowed even harder. “Yes, actually – you’re being rude.”

He scoffed, then used the phone in his hand to stop the music. “I’m rude? Ms. Get out my fucking way and shut up?”

My mouth dropped open. “I did not say all that!”

He shrugged – broad, tattooed, cinnamon brown shoulders. “May as well have.”

“Maybe so, but I didn’t, and I didn’t even mean to say anything.”

“But you did though, and it was rude, so….”

“So… I deserve to not get any sleep because you’re having a party?”

“The party is over.”

I peeked around him, and it did indeed appear that his guests had left.

“Oh – you’re being loud and obnoxious just for fun, then?”

His full lips spread into a little smirk. “Thanks for understanding.”

Before I could reply, he’d started the music back up, and was about to close the door until I put my hand up, stopping it.

“Hey – can you… just… not?” I asked, with a huff. “Look – I’m sorry for being rude in the hall earlier. I had—have—a lot on my mind.”

“Ohhh, you’ve got a lot on your miiiind,” he droned, and I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep a rude comment from spilling out.

Shit.

Maybe I am rude?

“You know… have a good night,” I said instead of what I wanted to say, and turned to walk back to my own door.

I would simply let HPD handle it, as much as I didn’t want to go there.

“You too,” he called after me, laughing as I went back into my apartment.

I wanted to scream.

Hell, maybe I should.

Who would hear it anyway, with Ass on full blast?

Fuck it.

I braced myself, and let out a full volume, full throated scream, channeling every molecule of rage I was feeling into the sound. I half expected it to not even be satisfying, with the music drowning it out.

Except.

There was no music drowning it out.

It was deathly quiet, in fact, the perfect scenario for my insane rage-scream to echo through the empty apartment, repeating back to me with embarrassing clarity.

And then, moments later… a knock at my door.

Since I was still standing there, I simply turned around to unlock and open it.

My neighbor stood there, shirtless and smirking.

“Hey… you think you could maybe keep it down?”