Sunday, December 11, 2016

MIA

Amanda noticed something unusual as she walked to her apartment. It seemed to be eerily calm. She didn't hear any of her neighbors fighting or-

She stopped at her door as if to wait for the answer to catch up with her.

It finally dawned on her. She hadn't seen Joey at all today. It was rare that he ever left the building and she always got a glimpse of him before finding an alternate route to avoid him.
Maybe he finally gave up on her?

She entered her apartment and set her mail on the counter. Then grabbed her index cards to write a few more notes.

She added a few more pages to her book and checked the clock. It was Three thirty.

“Any time now," Amanda thought.

Sure enough, her burly neighbors next door started to argue, but it seemed more subdued than usual. They weren't even yelling that loud, but you can tell that they were having a disagreement.

Amanda stepped back out into the hallway, not sure what to make of the situation.

Then the girl that lived in 2C (right across the hall from Amanda) stumbled out of the elevator. She was obviously drunk. All Amanda knew about the girl is that she was an artist and liked to party once in a while.

Amanda watched as she stopped just outside of the elevator and leaned up against the wall. Unfortunately, her foot was still in the path of the elevator door. The door would try to close, hit it, then immediately open.

Amanda walked over to her and asked “Good party?”
“Not the best I've been to,” The girl muttered.

Amanda pointed to her purse still in the elevator. “Is that yours?” Amanda asked.

The girl nodded, and Amanda retrieved it for her. The girl, seemingly grateful to see Amanda stood up and swayed. Amanda was able to help steady her before she fell. Then Amanda helped the girl walk to her apartment.

When they reached the door, the girl unlocked her door, after struggling with her keys, then stopped to lean on the doorpost. She appeared to be waiting for something.

“Huh,” she finally said, “I haven't seen that perv Joey yet.”
Amanda chuckled. “He likes to talk to you too?”

“Heh, yeah.,” The girl said, “It's more like talking to me than to me.” Then she laughed and grabbed her breasts, "more like talking at these." The girl almost lost her balance and steadied herself on the doorpost again.

Amanda nodded in agreement.

“I'm Trisha, by the way.” Trisha let go of the door post, again, to put her hand out to shake, but nearly fell over. Amanda caught her and helped get the door. "It's short for Patricia. PAT. Tri. SHA." Trisha laughed as if what she said was the funniest joke in the world.

Amanda struggled to steady Trisha and bring her into the apartment. Trisha was the same size as Amanda, and it didn't help that the drunk couldn't stand up straight.

"I'm a PAT! Trish! Ahhhh!" Trisha said and laughed again. "What a name and I'm stuck with it."

Finally, Amanda was able to get Trisha to sit down.  With a sigh, Amanda took a moment to catch her breath. She was never that strong to begin with, so anything heavier than your standard sack of groceries was too much.

“Maybe Mr. Carter finally got to fire him,” Trisha said, surprisingly clearly.

"Who?" Amanda was having a hard time keeping up with the disorganized conversation.

"You know," Trisha said as if she couldn't believe Amanda would ask, "Joey!".

Amanda nodded as she heads towards the fridge.

“You know the union had made it difficult to fire anyone, even the ones that deserve it," Trisha paused as if for dramatic effect. "Aaaaaaaand, he deserved it!" She yelled and grabbed the edge of the table as if to steady herself.

Amanda found a water bottle in the fridge, which was surprisingly full with salads and fruit. She handed the bottle to Trisha who took it gratefully.

"He should have been fired out of a cannon. A very large cannon, because he was sooo..." Trisha made a circle motion with her hands. Then Trisha looked as if she realized what she said. "Not that being, well you know..."

Amanda did know. She had gained some weight over the past couple of years. She was going to a gym, but it didn't seem to accomplish anything. Bringing Trisha to her apartment was proof that it certainly didn't do her physical strength much good.

After Trisha had taken a swig of her water, she motioned towards to what looked like a living room turned art studio.

“I have a showing tomorrow, at the art center downtown,” she said. “Maybe you should come see it.”

“Well, I don't have plans tomorrow,” Amanda said, “I'll see if Todd wants to come.”

“Oh, isn't that the British guy that was with you the other day?” Trisha rambled almost dreamily, “Kind of like Mr. Carter. He has that accent. That is what I've been told. They told me…" Trisha stopped for a moment as if she just thought of something, "Yup, they told me that accent was British, but I wouldn't know."  Trisha laid her head on the table. "I'm an ignorant American if the internet was to be believed."

Amanda nodded. She didn't tell her that Todd's parents were British, but he was born and raised in the US and that Todd still had a slight English accent. Amanda didn't think much of it until now.

“He's cute,” She mumbled. “Maybe he 'encouraged' Joey to leave. I bet he would do that for you."

“I doubt it. Todd isn't like that,” Amanda said, but Trisha didn't notice. She had passed out.
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