The Guy Upstairs

Staring at my phone screen, I know things have become more messier than a toddler eating a breakfast bowl on a buzzing Monday morning. A part of me feels as if things could have been different and better. It was a cold December night, and the breeze felt like a stabbing pin throughout my being. I cannot do this anymore! My inner being screamed. I took a deep breath and let my cell phone slip through my grasp. I picked up my laundry basket and made my way towards the roof. Maybe a little fresh air is all I need after all. For this sinking feeling to disappear, for this icky mist to vanish.

I walked out, locked the door behind me, and started the tedious process of climbing three flights of stairs. Maybe I should quit smoking! My brain yelled as I was huffing and puffing for air. I dropped my basket as my body turned into a ball of agony and my lungs were ready to explode.

I made my way towards the edge of the terrace, praying and hoping that no one was there using our only functional washing machine, but as my luck would have it, there it was occupied.

"Hey, are you almost done?” I asked as the large figure in front of me turned.

“Oh yeah, yeah, just give me a couple of minutes,” he said as he hurried to finish his load. Who is this tall, almost six-foot-crossed-eyed dude?! My inner goddess asked as she pulled down her circle rims.

"Hi, I am Athena! Nice to meet you,” I said as I extended my arm.

“Oh, hi, I am Arthur,” he scrambled as he turned to take my hand. And that was when I saw him for the very first time. Hair greying and messy, beard so full that any saint would get a complex. Crocked eyes are hiding behind black square-rimmed glasses. His beer belly poked out of his two-size small shirt. It made me wonder: was dad bods really that much in trend?

“Are you new here?” I asked, pulling my hand back.

“No, I have lived here for more than two years.” His eyes sparkled.

“Oh, that’s weird; I have never seen you around,” I said.

“Yeah, but I have seen you once or twice, I think. Which floor do you live on?” he smiled.

“Ah third,” I shuffled; his world felt a little wrong, falling on the threads of knowing some really personal information in a blink.

“I actually live on the first floor. One zero six,” his grin widened.

“Oh, that’s great,” I said, my eyes shifting towards the washing machine.

“Yeah and…” His words were interrupted by his ringing phone.

“Excuse me, I have to take it,” he added. I gestured for him to carry on as I peaked my head to get a better look at the timer.

"Yeah, what?” he yelled into the phone as he took a few steps away. I could faintly hear him mutter something, but a part of me really did not care. I just wanted to finish and run back home.

“Sorry about that! That was my roommate asking where I was,” he said. I just looked at him with eyes full of fake affirmation. Why is he telling me this?! My inner goddess snarled.

“Oh, look, my clothes are done!” His words felt like a roaring wave of relief, as now I knew this conversation could finally be over. As soon as he pulled out his clothes, I stared to shove in mine.

“Hi bro! We were waiting for you!” an unfamiliar voice called out. I slightly turned my head to find two figures emerging from the dark. I tilted my head to get a better look. It seemed like two very not-so-impressive guys. One looked rather tall, muscular, and dusky, with a little chiselled jaw and a pair of big square-rimmed glasses. On the other hand, the other one was short, puggy, a little fair, medium-long black flowy hair, a perfect definition of dad bod with similar black, big square-rimmed glasses.

"Hi, I am Sullivan,” the puggy guy said.

“Oh, this is Ray and Sullivan, and guys, this is Athena,” Arthur said. I smiled and waved at them.

"So, where do you work, Athena?” Sullivan asked.

“I work in real estate. In a company called El Seathen, we are competitors of brands like Keller Williams and JLL. I am their hospitality head; what about you?” I replied.

“I am a senior technical writer for a company called HermathEarth,” Sullivan said. “Other than that, I have been writing for eleven years,” he added.

“Oh, that’s amazing! Even though I am a writer, I have two of my books published in collaboration with Amazon Kindle,” I gloat.

“That’s nice. What do you write about?” Sullivan asked.

“So mostly I write fiction and fantasy; one of my books is called The Veil of Faith and Destiny, which is based on Norse mythology, and the second one is called Something in the Shadows, which is proper teen fiction.” I smiled.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Sullivan said, nodding his head.

“What do you write?” I added.

“I write mostly poetry under the name Mr. Bond, and I love performing in open mics,” Sullivan said.

“That is really cool. You know, if you’re into writing, you should definitely watch this show on Netflix called BoJack Horseman; it’s amazing!” My eyes grew bigger.

“You have seen BoJack?!” Ray and Sullivan exclaimed together.

“Yeah…” I whimpered.

“You have good taste! Because very few people watch BoJack,” Sullivan smiled.

“Yeah, I love that show; that is a master piece!” my eyes shimmered.

“So, what does a hospitality head do?” Arthur jumped in.

“I have eleven of their sites under me. I am the starting and end point for the customers, so in a nutshell, I make sure their experience is seamless,” I smiled.

“Do you mind me asking how much you get paid?” Arthur asked.

“I make seventy-five thousand dollars a year plus incentives every three months,” I replied. I could see his eyes widening and his mouth opening.

“Is there a vacancy?” he questioned.

“I am not sure, but I need to know about your job profile and designation to know about a vacancy,” I replied politely.

“I am a relationship manager at HSBC. I also have a little experience in sales,” he said.

"Okay, forward me your CV, and I will check,” I said weekly.

“Sure, can I have your number?” he said, offering me his phone. I quickly grabbed it and punched in my number.

“Thank you, I will text you!” Arthur said. I nodded and turned to get my clothes out of the washing machine.

“You’re done so quickly? It takes Arthur ages to wash his clothes,” Sullivan said.

“Maybe you guys don’t know the settings; maybe someday I will teach you,” I said, closing the lid.

"Okay, I’ll see you guys around!” I smiled as I picked up my backpack and made my way towards my apartment.

As soon as I entered, my phone rang.

“What?” I yelled as soon as I pressed the receive button.

"Hun, are you mad or something?” the voice calmly asked.

“No Kai I am not mad. I just feel like you are too clingy, dude. You need to have a life of your own.” I replied as I set my basket down.

"Hun, it’s not about that. It feels like lately you are slipping away. You never have time; you hardly pick up my calls." Kai chocked.

"Look, I just feel you should go out and do your thing and let me do mine, okay?! Now I will talk to you tomorrow. I gotta go.” I hung up.

Things were not that bad between me and Kai; they have just been rocky. With our new jobs and lives, it did feel like things were slipping away lately. He was right; maybe I was changing, and maybe for the worst. Who knew? All I knew was that after almost two years of being the university sweethearts, we were crumbling. And it seemed there was no going back or saving it. I mean, we really tried to patch our cracks, but unfortunately, things kept getting swept under the rug. Days kept passing, voices kept getting muffled, and opinions kept getting disregarded. Deep down, I did not want to hurt Kai, not because I loved him, or maybe I did. I don’t know. A part of me just pitied him—pitied everything. I pitied the fact of what we have become and mostly the fact that I longed to go back to my university days. When all we knew was each other and all we longed for was each other’s loving embrace, when bunking our lectures for each other wasn’t that big of a deal, lying for each other became a daily schedule. I missed the days when I could just lay on his shoulder and forget that there existed a world outside of us and outside of him. And this was where I started pitying myself, because my pathetic self was longing for something that could never be brought back. I collapsed on the floor, curling myself into a ball as tears started streaming down my cheeks.