You know, I never really thought about her until that night. She was just ordinary. Yeah, she was a little dark, maybe a little moody, but nothing really that weird.
I don’t even really remember her walking up the stairs that night. She was always careful to be quiet above my head, I mean, to this day, I don’t even know if she and her boyfriend did it, you know? I guess that’s why the noise caught my attention that night.
I had watched her come home late pretty often, though, so I can guess what it looked like. But I guess it doesn’t matter, you know?
You see, I’ve never had a girlfriend. I’m not gay or anything, but I’m 24 and never had a girlfriend. I just figured I’ll meet her when I meet her.
Now, that doesn’t mean I haven’t had my hopes. She had this quietness around her, just quiet, like she was always listening for something, but she knew somehow she’d never really hear it.
Alright, I admit it, sometimes I would listen to her soft footsteps above me and try to piece together what she was doing.
Even then, she always seemed a little surreal. She seemed untouchable. Maybe that was why she was so attractive. It didn’t even seem like her boyfriend was worthy to look at her. She seemed like she was above everything, looking down, but not proud, just lonely. Like an angel, but neither holy nor fallen, but standing in between, where no one really notices her.
But I guess that doesn’t matter anymore.
You know, she did it very elegantly, like she had planned it all along. I don’t know. Maybe she had. I’d rather not think about it now.
That’s the trouble with ADD, it’s just as easy to forget something or someone as it is difficult to get them out of your head.
This is going to sound crazy, but I actually remember the day I realized I loved her. It was about six months after the night I found her laying there in her apartment. A new girl was moving into the apartment above me, a dark haired beauty who wasn’t nearly as quiet, but wasn’t exactly loud either. I just realized when I saw her that the memory I had of the little quiet redhead who had turned that apartment into her grave, that memory was fading rapidly.
At that moment, I cracked open a very large bottle of whiskey and drowned my brain in it. By four in the afternoon, I had finished the bottle and lay there on the couch with the window fan, the radio, the TV, and my own head running ninety miles a second. God, I missed her.
I know that drinking that much that early is terrible, but really, wouldn’t you? I woke up that night horribly sober and vividly remembering the first time I met her. The complex manager had thrown a Christmas party, and she showed up late and apologetic, but with a bottle of wine I had never heard of. I was a little buzzed, and she seemed a little shy, so I gulped a little and tried to make her feel at home. We joked a little, talked a little, mingled a little. I remember watching her drink, very carefully, like she was afraid of something, but no matter how much she had, no matter what she had, she never ever got drunk, didn’t even seem to buzz. Yeah, she loosened up by the end of the night, but that’s really just her getting used to us.
Funny thing is, to this day, I can’t remember actually paying that much attention to her that night. That party was three years ago now, and from then to the day she died, I don’t think we spoke more than fifteen words to each other.
Maybe this is why I’ve never had a girlfriend. I don’t think there is a woman on this planet patient enough to put up with me.
Well, not anymore.
