This is part six. Read part five.
As John walked towards the door, it was already apparent to him that something was wrong. After living in buildings with shared walls for as long as he had, the sounds of muffled yelling were very familiar to him. He just hoped that it wasn’t coming from his apartment.
He reached his hand towards the knob. More muffled yelling. In his mind, he thought back to when he had parked. He hadn’t seen Tiffany’s car. That didn’t mean much, though. She could’ve taken a cab, or walked. He could’ve picked her up. Maybe her car was at the shop.
The knob stared at him menacingly. It had a sort of cruel glimmer in the pale yellow light of the corridor. John studied the knob intently, blocking out the sounds coming from beyond the door. He once again tried to convince himself that they were coming from another apartment. The attempt failed. He could now recognize the voices. It was definitely Tiffany and Joey. But were they fighting? Were they just horsing around? He had never seen or heard them actually fight.
Finally, the knob could take no more. It insisted that John open the door. He resigned himself to his fate, and reached into his pocket to retrieve his keys.
It was then that the door flung open.
John jumped back, startled. He looked up to see Tiffany. He had never seen her like this before. Her face was red, and damp from tears. He noticed wrinkles around the edges of her mouth that he had never seen before. Her hair was tussled and unkempt. As he studied her, she made eye contact. His heart began beating rapidly. He felt exposed and uninvited, as if he had intruded into her world, invading her privacy and seeing things that were not meant for him. She stared into his eyes, and he stared back. This was the moment he had dreamed of. They had connected.
“Tell your goddamn roommate that if he wants to stop being such a fucking child, he knows my number.” The words shot like venom from her mouth. He was back on the outside, forcibly and violently evicted. He struggled to recover. She brushed past him and tossed her purse onto her shoulder. Joey appeared in the doorway.
“Women, huh?” Joey shook his head and leaned against the door frame. “I mean, Jesus. That was a little dramatic, don’t you think?” John pushed past Joey and entered the apartment. He tossed his keys down on the end table.
“I don’t want to get involved.”
“Don’t want to get involved? What the fuck does that mean?” Joey stepped back inside and slammed the door. John sat down on the couch carefully, picked up the remote and turned on the television.
“It means, I don’t want to get involved, man. I’m friends with both of you and I can’t get in the middle of some fight.”
“You’re friends with both of us? You’re my fucking friend. Don’t get sucked into this shit, damnit, I hate it when they do that. They come into your life, and they sneak around the back and steal your fucking friends, and when shit like this goes down, you can’t even count on anybody, and you can’t talk about it, because everything you say gets passed along to her. Christ and you live with me!” Joey paced around the room, gesturing wildly as he spoke. John tried his best to focus on the television.
“You just need to calm down, okay? Don’t get so bent out of shape. It’s just a fight. Fights happen, right?”
Joey stopped pacing. He looked around, and finally plopped down into a large recliner. “We haven’t fought before.”
“Not ever?”
“Not ever. Not even once.”
“Doesn’t that anger kindof build up?”
“Well, I fucking guess so! Jesus, what do you think, you saw her storm out of her. Use your head…” John sighed to himself and tuned Joey out. There was no use in talking to people when they were like this. The best you can hope to do for them is to be their emotional punching bag, letting them finish the fight on you, since the person they were actually fighting with left the ring and went home. Of course, he was very curious what they were fighting about. He strained to keep his thoughts neutral. What if this was it? What if, after this, it’s all down hill? First, a huge explosive fight. Then the make-up. Then some smaller, less serious fights. They stop talking as much. They lose interest in each other. Communication between them breaks down. And then they start looking for something else.
He looked around, and realized that Joey had gone, presumably to his room. He reflected on how he had ignored Joey’s rant in favor of plotting the demise of his relationship.
At least he hadn’t followed her down the hallway.
Read part seven.
Tags: Narratives