Home Is Where The Heat Is
I'm sitting down at my desk and I feel more than a little ridiculous. Here I am inside my own apartment, completely clothed with my boots, jacket, hat, and glittens on. And all of this is just an attempt to keep warm, an unsuccessful one at that. Daphne and I have been arguing with the landlord for two months, two months! The apartment is like a fucking ice box and Mr. Simovic is a fucking idiot.
I should have known that this would become a problem though. Our apartment building is actually a renovated house. The whole building's heat is regulated by one thermostat in the hallway and the heat is included in the rent we pay each month. So, Mr. Simovic has been pressuring us to keep the heat down. Just a couple of weeks ago he called to tell us that the heat needs to stay down. "It doesn't need to be set any higher than 62 or 63 degrees. That should be plenty."
Yeah. Fucking. Right.
Finally we just stopped listening to him. We turned it up anytime it was too cold. But Mr. Simovic isn't the only problem. The couple in the apartment across the hall has been a nuisance too. I'm almost positive they're hording all the heat. And about two weeks ago we had what I like to call the "Heat Wars." Every time I turned the heat up and walked back into the apartment, a few seconds later I'd hear the door across the hall open and close. And, when I checked, sure enough, the fuckers had turned down the heat. One night I ended up turning up the heat at least eight times before the assholes just left the thermostat alone.
But, last week the "Heat Wars" were put to an end. I came back from class one day and there was a locked plastic box over the thermostat. As soon as I saw it, I seriously considered taking a crowbar and prying it off the wall. I looked to see what the fucker had set it at and was surprised when it said 65. I was sure he would set at something ridiculous like 62.
But the apartment is still cold. And I'm almost mad at Daphne for not being there to commiserate with me. Lucky Daphne is studying abroad this semester and doesn't have to deal with the heating problems.
And really, I don't have to deal with the heating problems either. I mean, I could be in Brian's nice, warm, properly-heated loft. But, that's not an option right now. Brian was a complete ass the last time I saw him. And I really don't expect things to have changed in the last couple of days. I asked him to do one favor, one simple little favor. All he had to do was agree to one little thing. And, he couldn't even do that. And I promised myself that just this once I wouldn't give in.
Even if I am freezing my balls off.
The sound of my phone ringing pulls me out of my thoughts. I scramble to find it. I know it's in one of my pockets. With an almost embarrassing sense of triumph I pull it out of my jacket pocket and look at the display. Of course it's Brian. I consider picking up, but I know he'll end up calling again seconds later to leave some kind of disgruntled message. I wait for a minute or so after it stops ringing before listening to the voicemail.
"The reason you have a phone is so people can get in touch with you. Pick up your fucking phone."
I decide to clear my mind of all thoughts related to Brian. I just don't have the energy to think about him, instead I make myself a can of soup with the hope that it'll warm me up. I do a little reading for school while I eat and the soup does warm me up. But, within minutes of finishing I'm cold and my teeth are fucking chattering.
"Fuck this." I go to the kitchen and open a drawer, pulling out a butter knife. I sneak into the hallway, trying to be quiet so I don't alert the heat-hording neighbors. Everyday for the past week I've been walking through this hallway and looking at the evil locked box. Through my daily observations I've noticed two slits on the side of the box that I'm sure I can get a knife into. I stand in front of the box and slide the knife into the top slot and sure enough I can reach the thermostat control with the knife. I wiggle it around a bit until I'm able to turn it up to 70 degrees. I start pulling out the knife and I have to say I'm very pleased with myself. I've turned up the heat and wasn't loud enough to alert the neighbors.
"Hey Sunshine." I jump and scream in surprise. I grab Brian's hand and run into the apartment dragging Brian behind me before closing the apartment door.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Brian? You scared the shit out of me. I swear if they heard me--" He doesn't let me continue.
"What were you doing?" He looks down at my hand and I follow his gaze, my eyes falling on the knife in my hand. I set it down on the counter.
"I was turning up the heat."
"Okay." And he says it in that way that clearly implies that I'm either crazy or a little slow.
"What? That asshole put a lock box on the thermostat, as if I'm a child." I say somewhat petulantly. Yeah, I'm still pissed about the box.
"He thinks you're a child? I have no idea where he could have gotten that idea."
"Fuck you. And, you still haven't answered my question. What are you doing here?"
"I called. You didn't answer. And I know you got my message so don't even deny it." He flops down on the sofa, stretching out and putting his feet up.
"You know, if a person receives a call and they know who is calling and they choose not to answer the phone, it usually means they don't want to talk to whoever is calling."
"Now I wouldn't say that Sunshine. Everyone always wants to talk to me." He says with a smirk and I can't help but roll my eyes.
"You're such an ass sometimes." I move to sit in a chair, but as I walk by the sofa he takes my hand and pulls me down on top of him. I move around a bit to settle comfortably against him and he whispers in my ear.
"But you love me anyways."
"I suppose I do. Although, I still have no idea why." His fingers are in my hair. And we just lay there for awhile enjoying the silence and the comfort that our bodies provide each other. After a few moments he breaks the silence sounding something close to surprised.
"It's cold in here Sunshine."
"I know. I have to wait for the heat to kick in." I mumble into his jacket.
"We could wait at the loft."
"Yes we could."
"C'mon." He somehow manages to wiggle his way from underneath me to stand up. He takes my hand and pulls me up into an embrace. I pull away a bit to look him in the eye.
"I forgive you." He rolls his eyes and opens the front door, stepping out into the hallway. I follow him and as I'm locking the door, I consider leaving a bitchy note for my neighbors and Mr. Simovic on the evil locked box. But I decide against it. I don't want things to be any harder for Daph when she gets back. I have a feeling I won't be living here much longer after Daphne's return. I run to catch up with Brian who's already downstairs and we leave to go to the place that's always felt the most like home.