Apartment 206

Apartment 206 – I had been rather obsessive in my search for a rental apartment in Ottawa. I had one criterion in mind, above all else, it had to be quiet. Working from home, meant that the actual location didn’t matter as much as the neighbourhood and the neighbours.

Unlike my graduating college friends, I didn’t pick a trendy downtown condo or a place by the market. It was the east end for me. The mid-rise building near St. Laurent Boulevard wasn’t impressive, but the walls were thick and the neighbours kept to themselves. Most were seniors or working couples. That mattered. When I needed to create, silence was my companion. The second bedroom served as my office, keeping my work and home life separate. My desk faced the window; my camera equipment was neatly arranged on the shelves beside it. Everything in its place.

I worked irregular hours dictated by deadlines and contracts. Today, I turned everything off at ten in the evening. I re-heated leftovers, sat on the couch, and scrolled through streaming options, none caught my attention. I finally settled on an old comedy that I had seen twice already. Halfway through, I realized I hadn’t laughed once.

I muted the television. Silence filled the apartment. I leaned back and rubbed my eyes. At twenty-seven, I felt like something was wrong with my life. It wasn’t anything I could point to. It was simply how I felt. On paper, things were fine. Good job in visual media, steady income, a place of my own, a small circle of friends. Yet the evenings stretched longer than they should. A Groundhog Day of sorts, one day merging into another.

I wasn’t lonely in the obvious sense. I saw people, dated regularly, even had someone I could call if just wanted company. But conversations rarely lasted past small talk, and most connections faded as quickly as they started. What I wanted wasn’t complicated — someone to talk to, someone who stayed after the movie ended.

The scrape of boxes and a door closing came from across the hallway. The apartment across from mine was vacant. Perhaps a new neighbour was moving in. It was late for movers. I pressed the volume button on the remote but found myself listening for footsteps in the hall instead of movie dialogue.

A few minutes later, a faint thump against the door, followed by the sound of something dropping and a muffled exclamation made me smile. That woman could swear. At least someone else was still awake.

My cell phone buzzed on the coffee table. Laura. I stared at the name for a few seconds before answering.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m in the neighbourhood. Can I come up?”

I already knew what that meant. Laura had been part of my life since college. A friend with benefits, as people call it. She was amiable, uncomplicated, and never stayed around long enough to strain the relationship. She had always liked things that way. Lately, I wasn’t sure I did. There was a growing staleness to it. I was tired of the revolving door.

“Sure,” I said, though my gaze lingered on the apartment door a moment longer. I unlocked the door. A few minutes later, Laura let herself in.

“Do you have any food?” she asked.

The skinny blonde was already rummaging through my refrigerator. A can of beer popped open, and she took a Twinkie from the box on the counter. She came to sit next to me.

“Don’t you have any decent food?” she asked.

“I might if you called ahead and came for a meal. People who drop in unannounced get what’s left.”

“Just came out of the club,” she said. “It was a slow night. I had a few beers and thought of you.”

“As you often do, when nothing better comes along.”

“Don’t be like that. You know me. I don’t do relationships. But you know I like you.”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Why do you always suspect I want something just because I come around to spend time with you? It’s unfair.”

“Perhaps. I’m sorry then.”

She leaned over and kissed me.

“Come on,” she whispered, taking my hand.

I hesitated for only a moment before following her. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe this time she’d stay.

And she didn’t. Sometime after midnight she asked for a glass of water, which I got for her, and by the time I was back, she was dressed.

“Do you want to come to dinner tomorrow?” I asked. “We could do a movie. I could show you what I’ve been working on.”

She shook her head. “Nope, sorry. I’m meeting people. You wouldn’t happen to have a few bucks for the cab ride home?”

I reached for my wallet on the dresser and gave her what I had.

“That should cover it. Thanks for coming over, I guess.”

“What? Are you not happy? You didn’t seem to mind the company ten minutes ago. What more do you want?”

“Don’t be so crude,” I said.

“You’re so old fashion, it’s laughable,” said Laura.

I took her to the door, opened it, and said, “Good night.”

She kissed my cheek and hugged me. “You’re the best. Love you.”

I closed the door behind her. The silence hit me again.