I usually don't believe in things like karma, fate, or coincidences. There is no one out to get me. Nothing is going to come back and kick me in the butt because of something I did, did not do, said, or did not say. That's all just hocus pocus to me. Things happen. Things don't happen. It is as simple as that.
So when I found out who my new neighbor's were I didn't say, "Wow! What a coincidence," or, "Fate must have something in store for me." Those were not my thoughts at all. What I was thinking was more along the line of, "You've got to be kidding me!"
Let me explain...
I live in an over expensive apartment complex in downtown Baltimore. My rent is four times as much as my parents mortgage. But what do you expect when you refuse to live in the ghetto, on section-8, on the east side, or in something small and nasty?
My complex is nice. It's an eight story apartment building over a garage. There is security, a business room, a gym, a sky deck, things of that sort. I love it. Even if I have to slave all morning and afternoon at my job as a Psych Rehab Counselor for the University of Maryland psychiatry division, while going to school part-time twice a week. It's worth it.
Don't let the job title fool you. I recently graduated college and I'm new to my job, therefore, my salary is barely over 30 thousand. More than half of that goes to my apartment. I still have bills to pay, food, car note, tuition, and the list goes on. But I'm happy with my place, so I suffer in joy.
My previous neighbors were nice, an older couple. They decided to retire and travel the world, lucky, so they moved out. Maybe two weeks later, I'm not really keeping track, new neighbors moved in. They're a young couple. I can tell by the amount of arguing they do at all hours of the day. It isn't so bad really, and dare I say that I eavesdrop. Not like that's hard.
This morning, Warren, my not-really-boyfriend-best friend, surprises me with breakfast. I know, it sounds sweet, but it isn't. At least not to me. It is my first day off from work and school in weeks. My plans are to sleep the morning away. Something I haven't done in...forever. But Warren ruins that when he knocks on my door at 8am.
I slank out my bed to the door. I yank it open to find him standing there with a bag and two cups of coffee. "Hungry?" he says with a smile. No. I am not hungry. I'm not even woke yet. Not to mention, "I don't like breakfast, Warr." I say to him, my voice laced with sleep. A fact that he's known for over 5 years now.
He steps into my apartment. "You need to eat it more often. You could use the energy." Into the kitchen he goes and places the bag and cups on the table. It doesn't bother me how he freely moves about my apartment. As long as he stays out of my bedroom. Which he does. Most of the time. The sneak.
I follow him, ruffling my bedhead even more, my penguin slippers flip-flapping against the tile. "Then let me sleep," I say to him. "Sleeping energizes me."
"You'll have more energy if you eat properly, Shannon. I bet you didn't eat dinner until after midnight."
He is right, of course. But that's no secret. Everyone knows I have a weird eating schedule. Breakfast for me was lunch for others. My dinner is usually at times when normal people are asleep.
He pulls out two containers. Inside are omelette's, fried potatoes, and bacon. He pulls out another container that was full of mangoes. I scrunch my nose up at the platters. Eggs and my stomach did not get along. That's a fight I'm not willing to engage in. At least he got the mangoes right. They are my favorite.
He places the food onto plates, tossing their greasy containers in the trash bin. "I can't stay long. I have work today." He motions me to sit. Begrudgingly, I do. But I grab the container of fruit and a fork only. As good as the bacon and potatoes look, it was too heavy a meal for me to eat at this time. We sit in silence as we eat. More like, I sat in silence as I eat. Warren's talking. About what? I don't know. My thoughts are in their own little world.
Two thumps sound from the kitchen wall. Warren looks behind him. "New neighbors?"
I nod. "Been here about a week now."
"Greet them yet?" He asks as he bites into a piece of bacon.
I can feel my eyebrows arching. "No. Why would I?" I'm not the social type. I don't go out a lot. I hate crowds and parties. I only speak when spoken to. Unless I'm with my best friends. Then I chatter a mile a minute. New neighbors aren't my best friends. Especially new neighbors who make things go bump in the night...and day. In the opinion of others, I'm rather rude and boring.
"It's only polite."
"Then do it for me."
He smirks, realizing that there is nothing he can say that could make me seriously go knock on my stranger-neighbors door with a package of homemade cookies and greet, "Hello. Welcome to the community." I chuckle.
Warren leaves shortly after breakfast. I wash the plates and collapse on my sofa, where I sleep until early afternoon.
The weather is warming up nicely, only a bit cold, a perfect day to do some shopping I really can't afford. That never stopped me before. I shower, dress, grab my purse and head out. There's a mall a few blocks down the street from me, so driving's not necessary.
I make a few stops while I was out. One stop at my friends job, another at Barnes and Nobles. I get my nails done, something I haven't done in ages. Afterwards, I hop on the bus and go to Canton, where my hair stylist works. She was free and had time to do a wash and trim. I wear my hair relaxed. Natural hair is nice. My friend April works it. I just can't. It's not for me. I look bad when I wear my hair natural and coiled and afro'ed out. Not, "you go girl" bad. That's April. I'm more of the, "you go fix that, girl."
It feels good to pamper myself once and a while, so I continue to treat myself and went out for a nice large lunch, dinner for everyone else.
I stumble back into my apartment building sometime after eight, my ipod blaring. I check the mail box, since I forgot to do so before I left. I have my bags on my arm, my mail box door open when two people come and stand beside me. They open the mailbox next to mine, nick-picking at each other. 'The new neighbors,' I think to myself and frown. Now I have to greet them, don't I?
I grab my mail and shut the box at the same time the woman beside me does. We look at each other. I force a smile. "Hi! I'm Shannon. I live next door to you."
The lady looks at me. She's around my age, I can tell by her eyes. Although, she appears much older, her face clad with make-up, her curly weave falling pass her shoulders. Most females looked older than they actually are in this city. I'm 23, but when I'm standing next to those high school kids, I look younger than they do.
"Hi," she responds. "I'm Tara and this is my husband," the word slips from her lips like a curse, "Donovan."
That's weird. No matter how angry I get, I would still introduce my boyfriend or husband with some hint of affection. But that's just me. I turn to greet the guy. It takes a second to recognize him, and that's when I thought it. 'You've got to be kidding me!'
There he stands, my childhood crush and not-really-sure-what-he-was-but-i'll-just-say-friend. The guy with the nasty attitude who I had to, on more than one occasion, bop over his head. He cut his hair off, so he looks different from when I last saw him, what was it?...six or seven years ago.
He recognizes me as well. His lips twitch, but that mask of arrogance he must have perfected in his youth is in place. "Hi," he says monotonously.
I remember that tone as well. It's the way he speaks to people he cares little-to-nothing for. Never had he used it with me. But that was then. It doesn't bother me any now. I mentally shrug. "Well..." I say and before I turn around and walk away.
We ride the elevator up to the fifth floor together. I reach my door and put the key in, opening it. As I walk in, I take a look behind me. I always do that. I want to make sure no one was going to jump out of no where and run in behind me. Don't laugh. I had a neighbor who would do that to me when I was young. It was insanity.
There is no one behind me, as I already know. The only thing I see before I step completely into my apartment is Donovan, who is standing there in his doorway watching me. I shut the door on him, a sense of déjà vu creeping up my spine. "Hocus Pocus."
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My story SWMME is now available for purchase on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Kobo Books for $2.99 and includes a very short never published bonus scene. If you have Kindle Unlimited and/or Kobo Plus, you can read for free.
Kobo - http://bit.ly/3egAILOAmazon - https://amzn.to/2PIDJucBarnes and Noble - http://bit.ly/30nmvV6
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