My Secret Corner

The neighbors are fighting again. I heard them while I was reading in our patio. Same shit, different day. When they’re not fighting, they’re smoking weed. When they’re not smoking weed, they’re fighting. It’s one or the other.

Now, they’re talking to each other in a more civilized manner. That’s the benefit of living in a cul-de-sac of an apartment complex: you hear everything.

Last week, I overheard a conversation between a different couple somewhere further up the complex.

“That was why I lied,” a woman said, “because you don’t actually care.”

I was eavesdropping. It was 10:44am. 

She continued, “Don’t try to make excuses. We can go to dinner on our own.”

She was confronting her partner about having invited someone to dinner without letting her know; they were supposed to have dinner alone and with each other. It had been a long time since.

His name is Eric.

“So what, Eric?” she asked, expecting a reply.

Inaudible answer.

“You can’t say ‘I don’t know.'”

I could imagine him justifying why he’d invited that friend. Maybe his friend needed the company, maybe he was visiting from out of town, but her and I could see right through it. Eric was doing everything he could to avoid her, whether he knew it or not.

“Don’t try to make excuses. We can go to dinner on our own.”

She was angry, poignant, and steady. She demanded a response, a true one, not his standard cover up. 

Silence.

She was going to get it out of him. She needed to get it out of him. She needed him to take a hard look at how he’s acting. She needed him to see that he was a boy in a man’s body.

“There’s a save the date this Saturday,” she said breaking the silence, “I expect you to be [inaudible].”

Their conversation came full circle when I realized what she had lied about. She made him believe his mother was joining the party on Saturday out of her own accord, but it was all orchestrated. He would only attend if there was someone else there filling the empty seat between them. If he’s afraid to touch her, then is this relationship even real?

I sat there on my red patio chair, listening and writing this down. I was sad to hear a woman as bold and mature as her dealing with such a childlike man as him. I hope she leaves.

I hear coughs coming from the neighbors who fought this morning. She’s smoking weed, and it’s a quiet afternoon.