The Remarkable Language of the Unremarkable Residents in Apt. 38B

        Apartment 38B is a place of no importance, with inhabitants who are altogether inconsequential in the scheme of things. Two people, essentially strangers, coexisting in an intimate setting for the sake of their finances. A story all too familiar to any sad, urban twenty-something searching for themselves in an over-romanticized city that in reality is an industrial factory turning out people with freshly crushed dreams.

Jason was just as agonizingly average as his name suggests. He worked one of those jobs that has a somewhat impressive name that you ultimately don’t really know what it means, other than it probably entails sitting at a desk all day, and wearing neckties that look like they’re too tight. He sometimes watches the news because when he was seven years old his dad told him that watching the news is a man’s job. It’s the only memory he has of his father and when he watches the news he feels like he’s honoring him in some way. He keeps a lot of Lean Cuisine microwavable meals in the freezer and takes coffee in the morning with milk, which is all Lea knows about him. 

Every morning Lea makes a pot of dark roast and leaves a muted green mug of coffee with milk on the counter, which is her way of saying, “Good morning and thanks for not being a problematic roommate/secret psycho killer.”

Lea is exactly the type of person that you imagine when you hear the name Lea. Upon seeing her you would assume she works as a hostess at a restaurant like Applebees, or as a bartender at a docile, slightly upscale bar in the lobby of a nice hotel frequented by businessmen and their mistresses. The only music she listens to is the music she would hear coming through the door to her parents bedroom after they had a fight and her mother wanted to cover the sounds of her crying. She keeps an abundance of pre-made salads in her half of the fridge in an effort to balance out the extreme amount of cream and sugar she puts in her coffee daily, which is all Jason knows about Lea. 

Every morning after Jason finishes his coffee he washes his muted green mug and Lea’s faded pastel blue mug that she leaves in the sink, and sets up the coffee maker for the next day, which is his way of saying, “Thanks for the coffee and not being crazy. I hope your day is a good one.” And that is the extent of their communication.  

If Lea was asked to pick her roommate out of a lineup of men there is a 60 to 75 percent chance that she would pick the wrong one, as all she has to go on is that she thinks he has brownish, maybe blondish hair. (Although if you told her that he actually had black hair she would agree with you without protest) 

Jason is not much better having received many strange looks for smiling and waving at various women he passes on the street that he thinks generally may look like Lea. He’s not sure if any of them have ever actually been her, but his philosophy is better safe than sorry.

Day in day out nothing changes. Coffee is made, mugs are cleaned, interaction is avoided and inconsequential lives are led.

One agonizingly ordinary evening Jason was sitting on the living room couch watching the news and thinking about the father he could hardly remember when he heard a key fumbling in the lock. For a moment Jason seriously considered the probability of someone killing his roommate in order to obtain her keys so that they could break in to her measly apartment. Although he knew it was highly improbable he was still fairly certain that it could be more probable than Lea at the door coming home just a bit earlier than usual. He decided it’s best to play it safe, as both scenarios sounded equally dangerous, he quickly turned off the tv and dipped into his bedroom, closing his door just as the front door burst open. 

From behind his bedroom door, Jason could hear the sound of someone bounding in and something crashing to the floor. Jason was deciding that the apartment invasion scenario may not have been crazy at all, but in fact very possible, and very real until he heard a female voice utter a few expletives and then the sound of Lea’s bedroom door slamming shut. 

After Jason was positive that he heard no more movement in the living room he very carefully opened his door just enough for him to visually check that the space was indeed empty. The lamp that usually sits on the side table was now laying on the floor surrounded by what Jason assumed to be the contents of Lea's overturned handbag that was lying on the side table just dangling off the edge. Jason picked up the lamp and returned it to its usual place. He tried his best not to look directly at Lea's things that were strewn all over the floor because he felt as if it was an invasion of her privacy, but then he also didn't want to step on anything so he stole glances here and there deciding it was a necessary evil in the best interest of not breaking any of his roommates property. 

Jason was now standing quite awkwardly in the middle of the living room trying to not look at the mess on the floor when he heard music coming out of Lea's room. Elvis Presley's voice was heard just loud enough for it to be the main sound that one would hear coming out from behind the locked door. However if you listened carefully enough, as Jason was, you could hear quiet sniffles and soft tears staining pillows. 

In this moment Jason truly wished that this was all some scary dream that he was having after being knocked out by the home invader that indeed did obtain his roommates keys and was at this very moment rummaging through their small apartment and taking whatever pleased them. However he knew this wish was futile. He was indeed just standing in the living room, reluctantly looking at the contents of a woman's purse strewn on the floor, while listening to the dulcet tones of an Elvis song that he couldn't quite name because he was too busy trying not to hear the sobs of a stranger on the other side of a door. 

Before he could even think about what he was doing, Jason bent down and began to pick Lea's things up off the floor placing them back in her purse. The action felt strangely intimate. Mint wrappers. A very used neutral tone lipstick. A not at all used bright red lipstick. Crumpled receipts from a nearby convenience store. A few pens without caps. Way too much loose change. A very small black wallet that needed to be replaced. And a scrap of paper that had been torn into two halves. 

Having returned everything else into the bag, Jason held the scraps of paper in his hand. On each half was part of a phone number scribbled with a pen that must have been running out of ink. Jason admittedly did not know much about Lea but he felt that he had learned more about her from seeing the contents of her purse than he had in the entire time that they had co-inhabited Apt. 38B.

Jason did not know how long he had been sitting on the living room floor. He was still holding the scraps of paper in his hand. Although he had no reason to know this, he felt that this phone number had something to do with Lea’s current state. A different Elvis song was playing now but Jason could still only hear Lea’s tears falling down her cheeks. As Jason continued to look at the phone number he felt his stomach twisting itself into a knot. He had never really hated anyone before. He felt that it was not worth the effort, but in this moment he hated this phone number and whoever it belonged to. He understood that it was incredibly irrational, but then he decided that all feelings were incredibly irrational and after being ration all his life, he felt like he deserved this. So he sat there, reveling in a feeling that he didn’t understand, and despite his angered state he enjoyed it in an odd way that perhaps was mildly inappropriate for the moment. 

Jason took Lea’s restored purse and placed it on the counter. He didn’t know what to do with the phone number. He wanted to throw it out the window in hopes that its disappearance would stop Lea’s tears. Instead he placed them on the counter next to the purse because however good his intentions were he knew it was not his property and he did not have the right to make decisions for Lea. He then went into his bathroom and brought out a new box of tissues. He placed the tissues next to the phone number with a post-it note attached to the box. he had intended to write something on the note but nothing he thought of sounded right. “Feel Better!” sounded like she was sick. “I’m sorry” suggested that he was the one that upset her, and “I’m here if you need me!” was far too dangerous of a suggestion. Jason decided that a smiley face would have to suffice as he heard movement coming from Lea’s bedroom. He finished the note and quickly slipped into his bedroom, waiting just behind the door attempting to hear if his work had been discovered.