Page 2 of Thanks for the Memories

Fuckkkkkk.

I look around my apartment frantically, as if the plants I rarely remember to water and the piles of unfolded laundry can guide me on how to not to deal with that.

I back away from the door. “Natalia.” I back away from the door…faster. “I need to talk to you.”

The fuck you do.

Another three steps in reverse later I realize that walking backward is not a skill of mine. I can barely go through a day of walking forward without tripping on something, so it’s no surprise that I’ve failed my attempt at walking backward and am now on the floor with what I hope is not a sprained ankle.

“Fuck my life today,” I whisper shout.

“What was that?” My landlord’s voice sounds more muffled, as if he’s talking with his lips pressed against the door.

I’m not dealing with this. It’s already not a good day as it is. Now to have to deal with whatever he wants? No thanks.

I spring to my feet and strut closer to one of the two windows on either side of the wall-mounted TV.

My lips purse, contemplating my next move on a scale of one to whatever bitch, you’ve done worse. I live on the second floor, facing the parking lot. If I decided to woman up and jump, it wouldn’t be too awful. I think.

“I know you’re in there.” I inch closer to my escape route, wincing at the aged oak creaks beneath my feet. “I can hear you.”

No shit. With how old these floorboards are I’m sure my grandmother can hear me from the grave.

I open the window, muttering under my breath. It is what it is at this point. I push through it until the window is completely open and the screen is removed. It’s not until I peer down at my knee-length pencil skirt that I realize the formfitting staple to my wardrobe isn’t ideal for jumping out a window.

I try hiking it up to give myself some more range of motion but with the way Harold the world’s most persistent landlord won’t shut up or stop knocking on the door, I’m thrown into sensory overload. “Can you be quiet for, like, two seconds? I can’t think straight.”

Wonderful. As if the cacophony of noises wasn’t enough, I’ve managed to blow my already fragile cover further.

Looks like potentially breaking a bone wasn’t in the cards for me today. I should be relieved but given the alternative of having to deal with the consequences of my delinquent actions, I’m not too sure relief is what comes to mind.

Reluctant surrender ripples through my bones as I go to answer the door.

“Good morning.” Harold’s greeting grates my nerves. Who is this happy in the morning…or ever? I don’t match his overly chipper, borderline condescending tone when I reply with an unenthused hello. “You know, next time you want to pretend you’re not home, maybe you should try not to sound like a bull in a china shop.”

“Noted.” I collect my belongings that scattered every which way during my graceful fall and try to rush him out, but he stands solid, blocking the doorway.

“You weren’t going to try to escape, were you?” His chin tilts up as he eyes the open window a couple feet behind where I stand.

“Me?” I swat my hand, playing coy. “Never.”

“I see, so the window and screen magically opened themselves?”

“Obviously. It’s Friday the thirteenth after all. Stranger things have happened.” My need to be sarcastic only adds fuel to my own misery by drawing more attention to the date.

“Oh please. Friday the thirteenth isn’t real.”

I can’t help but look at him like what he is…an idiot. “It’s on the calendar, Harold. Therefore, I’d say it is pretty fucking real.”

“As real as the notices that I’ve slid under your door?”

You mean the ones printed on bright neon green paper that I practice my free throw into the trash can with? Duh.

I stand upright, forcing a posture on my spine that it’s not used to, given the eight hours a day I spend slouched at my work desk. Not to mention the remaining sixteen hours slumped scrolling my phone or gaming.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

“Natalia…” The way he says my name makes me feel like I’m back in high school at the principal’s office. “…you don’t have to lie to me.”