A Short Journey-or Two

Noisy Neighbours (Version 1)

I felt that childlike joy of being tucked in-ready to shut my eyes. Ready to sleep, rest-until 11pm-again when the silence was obstructed by the gentle tinkling of keys from the apartment above, and then repeated again. For the next 30 minutes I laid in bed, until I decided to put in my headphones and sing myself to sleep.

My eyes open, the sun was coming through the window. Late breakfast, workout, late lunch, socializing and then dinner. I got home around 10 PM, early enough that I could hit the sheets-except this time I sat my bat beside the bed, the bat gives me just enough length to use controllable force and gently tap the ceiling to alert neighbours that its late and I want sleep.

When I first moved into the place, I was often occupied into the wee hours of morning, that I really didn't notice any noise. I picked up a job for a few months working an after hours diner followed by a relationship that didn't really warrant me to be at my place as much.

The holiday began, it took a day or two to actually fall asleep early, often I would help the sleep along with headphones and just sort of sing myself to sleep, but eventually it worked out. I enjoyed that night of sleep, until about 11pm when in the silence of rest, my eyes shot open. In bed, and now hearing the apartment fill with what was seemingly a drowned piano, I looked up. Wide-eyed, I checked the time. I remember being so angry. The noise of the piano was short lived. I was surprised, and nestled myself back into bed.

Eyes widen, just about to close 11:30 PM. Tonight it was banging on the keys and then a "THUD!" I jumped up and began banging the ceiling. I banged the ceiling so hard I cracked the plaster. I got down off my bed, and ended up watching television. A while later the piano started again. Looking at my watch, it was 3 AM. I stormed out the door of the apartment.

Going up the stairwell, I knocked on the door. A "Bang!" scrapping and smash of something glass seemed to echo into the hallway. I barked, "I am going to call the police." Silence.

A neighbour across the hall leaning in the doorway, spooked me a bit when I noticed them, "glad you did it, I was gonna dial." I inquired with the lady, other than "strange middle-aged man who must be doing drugs." I didn't get much else.

A couple days later, I felt bad. I may have really wanted to know what the deal was with this guy. I picked up two coffees and doughnuts. Waited for the noise to begin, went upstairs and knocked-"Thud", "Bang", and a pan or metal plate ringing as it had just fallen and spun out flat onto the floor. I didn't hear anyone pick things up. I figured maybe the dude was on drugs and maybe my last visit spooked him. Maybe he became paranoid and I might have just become someone who targeted someone with a mental illness. Now I really needed to know. I sat outside that apartment silently, eventually I fell asleep.

Around 6 AM I got jab to my side. I squinted, bright lights of the hallway were a bit much. I saw a guy matching the description from the elderly lady. After I stood up looking into his face against the brightness of the hallway, he looked me in the eyes and sternly said, "Get outta of here now, I'll call the cops."

"Wait-" and my voice trailed off. He grabbed me by the scruff of the neck, opened the stairwell and tossed the doughnut bag down.

I was livid, confused and rattled. I looked back in through the window as he walked away. At this point, I just went back to my couch. I didn't even care. I figured right now, I just need. Dozing off, my eyes begin to shut and then, "knock, knock". I grabbed my baseball bat and looked through the peephole of the door. "What!? I'll call the police, scram." I grunted.

"Listen guy-I'm sorry. I didn't understand why you were outside my apartment, there has been some weird stuff happening lately and I think I finally figured it out." he nervously confessed.

"I am not a psychologist or a rehab counsellor, get outta here." I sternly demanded.

Almost apologetically he says, "Listen man, it was my cats, I can't understand the coffee and doughnuts or you sleeping outside my door, but based on what the lady across the hall said, ya. I need you to know it was my cats and I'm sorry."

"Its your home-look after your cats. Nor did you answer when I came around the first time." I stated.

"Look-I work nights. I can't attest to what you experienced here while I wasn't, I have a piano near an end table that two cats knock stuff off every night." He now sounded embarrassed.

"Well, not that I completely believe you, but I got an extra cold coffee here that tastes about as bitter as I feel about this morning, how about you show me these cats." The guy laughed at my request.

"Actually ya, sure. I got them here. I'm gonna be taking them to the shelter-I guess, don't know what else to do with them to be honest." I opened the door and looked at the guy waiting for further explanation. "My mother passed away recently, these two fur balls were generally the most interesting part of her days, most of her stories were about how much joy it brought her watching them go nuts around her house."

Jokingly, "Well that explains a lot, must have had one heck of a medicine cabinet-sorry-those two felines sound like professional wrestlers through the floor. Animals like that can do far less damage if there was not a piano for them to free base from." Turning to the guy seriously, I made a suggestion. "If you are taking them to shelter anyways, would it be absurd to suggest that I help you look after them at night? I mean, granted, you must have tried locking them up a night before and I wager that didn't pan out too well?"

The guy's response was surprisingly light and enthusiastic, "Are you sure, these two ridiculous creatures running around though-isn't that just making the noise worse for you? To answer your question though, before you agree and think you will just lock them up at night. They just moan and cry throughout the night, not only does it sound heartbreaking when you hear them but its loud and constant."

The guy and I worked out an arrangement in which he'd be willing to pack up/get whatever they need. He confided that he was more nervous that'd I would report him for having pets (didn't realize we weren't allowed). However to avoid raising suspicion from other tenants I thought it worth mentioning my place wasn't cluttered with belongings of an elderly woman.