Apt. C, Where Art Thou?

I think my neighbors across the hall in apartment C moved. I haven’t seen either of their cars in at least a week. I suppose they could be on vacation, but I’ve got the feeling they packed up and left. I’m not really “friendly” with any of the other people in the building, a nod here or there (and I keep knocking at G’s door to tell him his cat escaped again and is pawing at his door).

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I don’t think I was all too friendly with the other folks in my building in Rossbrooke, either. Sure, the dude who lived in D and I would talk a bit, but he moved in like two months before I moved out, so what does that count for?

I remember back at the Colony on Mustone Court I was really good friends with my next-door neighbors. There was the old lady at 12 who I’d stop by to say ‘hi’ too at least once a week, and for the first year there were the foreign folks in 18 who invited me over for a barbeque and beer one summer night. There were three of them – the couple were from Turkey, I think, and than Yassu was from Japan. They never really said goodbye either, just one day I saw people who weren’t them moving stuff that wasn’t theirs into the apartment. Dude.

The strongest friendship was with Jodie at 14. We sort of had an “open door” policy – if the door to our apartments were unlocked, come on in! I moved away from the Colony four years ago, and Jodie and I eventually lost touch (every now and then I see her on AIM). The last time I saw her she was helping me lug all my stuff to Cockeysville in her dad’s huge pickup.

So, back to Apartment C. He was a big bald dude, she was a tiny tiny girl. They both wore, on occassion, shirts or hats with the Chili’s logo and for some reason I was under the impression he was either a manager or line cook, and she was a waitress. He drove a medium-sized green pickup, she drove a blue Cavalier until about a month ago, then she drove a silver Toyota Corolla. His name was Joe, I never learned hers, and they had two cats – the adventerous one was named Charlie, and I got to hold him a few times when we’d both be leaving the apartments at the same time and he would slip through the door. He was very friendly, except the time he scratched my nose. Grrr.

We first really met when G’s cat escaped for the first time. Of course, we didn’t know whose cat it was, just that there was a big tabby on the landing. All three of us played with the animal for a bit, then I got it some food and they got it some water. As the day went on, the cat became angrier and angrier, until finally I had to go to work. Er, it probably didn’t help that I decided to introduce Guy — neither one of the cats appreciated that. When I returned home that night, the cat was gone, and I assumed reunited with its owner.

Usually our conversations were pretty limited, a “Hey, how you doing?” when I was leaving and they were coming in, or the reverse. I wish I’d spent the time to go over there and say hi and invite them over for a beer or something.