"Did you hear about the new guy?"
There goes the afternoon. I thought to myself as I walked into the courtyard of the zoo I called home. It was more of a place to stay than a home per say, but somehow 'temporary' never seemed to adequately describe anyone's stay here. It was something called a T.A.P. A stupid acronym for 'Treatment Apartment Program'. Basically it was a place for a bunch of crazies that were well enough to be out of hospitals but not well enough to live on their own. And now there was another resident.
"He was really hot! A little short though," someone responded eagerly to the random question that really should have been seen as rhetorical.
"IDK, he seemed kind of dangerous with those piercings… do you think he has any tattoos?"
Who the fuck says IDK? Can we use the English language or is saying I don't know not cool enough? It has the same amount of syllables, Again the rude, surly thought came unbidden only to drift away without ever being uttered. It was always that way though. Think of something to say, find it best not to share it. In this place your every action and word described how sane you were. How normal you were. The object of the game was to stay below the radar. Then again having been a player in that game for years, I wasn't so sure of the rules anymore.
Still, it was my personal opinion that the attractiveness of a newcomer was far less important a question than if he were noisy or annoying. No one else seemed to care about the new guy's disposition though, just about what his shoes said about what he liked in a girl. Really who comes up with this shit?
Now the last thing I really ever desired in life was to sit and gossip about some crazy who would either be really annoyed by now, if he had sense, or was soaking up the limelight like he was a God damned b-list actor so I did the logical thing. I took the damn stairs. There were only two floors in the complex and yet everyone used the elevator like they were amputees in wheelchairs or something. The stairs were quiet.
Somehow forgetting that the only open room was next to mine, I ran into the hallway from the stairwell only to see a crowd of people at the no longer vacant apartment blocking the way to my door. Lovely.
It was like we really were in a zoo the way they were trying to get a glimpse into the room that was more confining than any barred and padlocked cage out there as if the new kid was some sort of freak show attraction. Don't they remember what it was like? The thought flitted through like acid through cupped hands leaving a stinging memory of pain. It was never fun being the new person in town.
With that in mind I may or may not have been less than gentle with the onlookers as I pushed by.
"Hey, bitch! I was here first don't shove me like….Oh," the voice belonged to one of the popular girls in the complex. You know one of those people who forgot to evolve past high school and thought that people saying nice things to your face and agreeing with everything you said made you queen of the universe? Yeah, she was one of those maturity rejects. "What are you looking at Riley? Why are you even here? New guy is too hot for you, wanna be Jamaican. Don't worry I'll be sure to tell you what he's like in bed if you really want to know."
Now, just standing there I thought of about three hundred ways to tell the smarmy bitch off ranging anywhere from 'ey mon' just reppin dem dreadz, to yes please be sure to get an accurate summary as my life is so sad I must live vicariously through your sexual activities but what was my response? "I'm just trying to get to my room." Classic. And it's not like I was saying it to act like she wasn't worth my time. I just wanted to keep way below the radar. I didn't want to be noticed.
The prematurely pruned princess just flipped her hair and made a little sound that could be interpreted as 'as long as we are clear' but was probably more degrading in her mind before shoving me along in my attempt to get home.
Finally getting past the mob I just turned the handle to my room and walked in. I never locked my door because no one bothered me. I'd never had an unwanted guest and nothing ever went missing so I figured it was safe enough. I actually had staff tell me on a couple different occasions that if my door were locked they would be concerned. Yeah, that's right by the way. Staff, cause we have to be managed. It's not like they are there to clean for us; though with the state of some rooms it seemed like people were expecting them to.
Staff were pretty much the worst managers the world had ever seen from the way their clients acted though. To put it in perspective if the collective group of them were to handle a band they would get a gig for a heavy metal group in the god damn bookstore. I mean what group of people in charge of mental health patients of any sort would allow the calamity outside poor "New Guy's" door. I mean that prima donna didn't even know the guy's name. Seriously this place is, at the very least, a circus.
It wasn't long before the only decent person in the complex, a girl who happened to live across the hall from me, popped her head in; a look of mild amusement on her round face. "Well that's not dying down any time soon." She said as if the thought overjoyed her.
I rolled my eyes. "Did that shitfaced broad, Melissa, give you crap about how she called dibs?" I asked while forcing my eyes to go wide with feigned interest. "Maybe the slut'll get pregnant and be forced to move."
"That's a pretty harsh thing to wish on whoever he is," my friend, Lily, drawled. "You know, all this fuss and I still haven't heard his name."
"Eh, it will be verbal herpes by morning." I reassured her, though secretly amused by the fact that there was all this nonsense at his door and not even a name was given yet.
"Sure enough. Oh hey, speaking of the shitfaced broad, did I hear her call you a 'wanna be Jamaican' again?" Lily plopped herself on the small love seat beside my computer with a sly grin.
"I think it's only 'cause she doesn't know what a hippie is, honestly, or she would switch it up. Pirate is too cool of a label to be an insult ever since that one movie came out or she would do that too." I said with an under exaggerated shrug. "But since white girls with dreadlocks aren't in her fashion magazines it's too strange and must be wrong."
"Don't worry. You're just going through a phase Riley. You'll turn to time honored pop sensibilities in no time and everything will make sense." Lily rested a mocking hand on my shoulder as she nodded her head slowly but emphatically. "That or some pop star will get dreads and everything will still make sense."
"Whatever." I enjoyed Lily because she was the only person here who could make fun of any situation and keep a straight face. The difference between her and I was that she could say all this stuff and not mean it whereas I meant all this sarcasm and negative mentality but couldn't say it. She was a good person who just wanted to make a friend laugh. I was a closet bitch that had no one to vent to on how I really felt about anything.
"So," Lily said with a grin. "If you could ask your new neighbor one thing what would it be? I would ask what it's like to be in a cage."
"We all know what it feels like living here, Lily." I told her firmly. "I don't know though, probably just if he has ever heard of Sepia."
"You and that band," she scoffed. "Have you heard the rumor that they stopped posting music because they got a record deal and are working on creating an album?"
"I hadn't. But how would a record label even find them? No one knows who they are or how many people are in the band or anything! That's what is so great about them. No image. No publicity. Just music." As I paused to think on how great a band just in it to make music was Lily glanced at me with a small smile.
"Would you forsake them if they made it big and had to have an image and publicity?" She knew the answer of course, I could tell by that sly smile that I felt the need to glare at.
"No, I think I would just be happy they were making songs again." An alarm went off inside Lily's pocket after a few quiet minutes and my friend swore lightly.
"They'll be calling me for meds soon," She announced with a frown as if I didn't know what the alarm signified. "You are so lucky you don't have to take any!" And with that Lily trounced to the door and flung herself across the hall to sit by her phone instead of just going to the med room.
Before the door closed I registered that the mob of residents formerly stationed outside the next door apartment seemed to have dispersed. The miracle of silence made me smile because I knew I would be breaking that silence into little pieces and stabbing each piece in the heart with sound waves of amazing rock and roll. Lily wouldn't be back after her meds anyway, they knocked her out like a tranquilizer in a circus animal's ass. If only they effected everyone that way. This place would be a much quieter place at night.
It was getting to be well past the hour when decent people went to bed anyway which is to say I was getting a second kick of energy. Still I got dressed for bed; kicking off my jeans and replacing my sweater with an oversized tank top that seemed more like a pool for me than an article of clothing. Without much thought for the new neighbor now residing next door I plugged my speakers into my computer and turned my iTunes to a playlist composed completely of my favorite band; Sepia.
I was sauntering around cleaning random little messes around my room to the sound of my music when I heard my door pop open. I swirled around in shock to see the much vaunted new guy glaring at me. Slamming my foot down mid-spin to stop myself I felt my face flush as I became aware of my attire and the fact that half my bra was showing because I had turned with the ferocity of a ballerina on crack.
Now, normally I would stay below the radar. Normally I would be apologetic and ask how I could help him but as I took in the person before me who, all things said and done, was a measly inch taller than me at best and was glaring at me like I kicked his dog I realized my bullshit tolerance level was still maxed from the brief encounter I had with Melissa. One too many pointed comments and all. So, instead of politely inquiring as to why this asshole was standing there glaring at me while I gaped awkwardly at him in nothing but a tank top, the words "What can I help you with?" Came out tinted nicely with 'Get the fuck out' and slathered with 'I'm going to slit your throat'.
He didn't even bother with the polite words/violent undertone combo and instead said with no amount of bullshit, "The fact that your shitty taste in music is playing so loud my wall is thrumming is making it difficult to sleep."
"Sorry it didn't occur to me that I would have to take my neighbor's musical preferences into account, but as a helpful chunk of knowledge for the newbie, the walls are so thin you'll hear it even if I have it on low. Suck it up Princess," was my rather fast retort.
It was, however, pointless bravado ass the newcomer pushed the door open like he was in a western as he walked in, the amused quirk of his mouth at odds with the pissed annoyance expressed in steel grey eyes. That's when I remember: living here meant something was wrong with you. Still I stood there a smirk of my own trying not to quiver as I told myself not to get punked so easily.
The guy just walked past me to my computer where he glared at the list of songs currently playing.
"Sepia," the word came out with a sneer as he unplugged not only the speakers but my computer's power cord as well. "Don't play that band anymore."
Without waiting for a reply he turned around and stalked out of the room. It was only after I locked my door and rebooted my computer (intending to wage audio warfare on startup) that I realized I still had no idea what the guy's name was.