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It was straight out of a movie.
My closest thing to a next door neighbor were the opossums that hung out in the woods behind my place.
“Nice place,” I said because, well, it was.
“Yeah,” she agreed, but it was clear she was seeing it through a different lens than I was, probably over-analyzing every interaction she and Gary had shared at this location.
“It’s like a labyrinth in here,” I mumbled, having somehow made a wrong turn, ending up in yet another section of buildings.
“Take the next left. And park. We have to walk around to the front,” she explained, already reaching to un-click her belt. “Top floor,” she told me, reaching for her set of keys, producing one with a dark blue rubber cover around it, differentiating it from the white one for her place, the black one for work, and – if I had to guess – green for her mom and pink for her sister – their favorite colors.
“Oh, heya there, Jules,” a woman’s voice called, making us both turn to finding her standing in the screen cutout of her door. “You making sure he got everything?”
“Hey, Jean. Got what?”
“The rest of his things,” Jean specified, giving the two of us a smile, making her wrinkled face go warm and grandmotherly. “He was moving most of it out earlier. I’m sorry to see him go, but so happy for you two. The wedding is soon, right?” she went on, oblivious to the tension overtaking Jules’ body. “Who is this?”
“Yes, soon,” Jules composed herself enough to say. “And this is Kai. My…”
“Stylist,” I interjected. “We are going for her last fitting after we make sure Gary got all his things. He said something about thinking he left a box in his closet.”
“Okay. I won’t keep you. I remember how hectic things were around my big day to Luis. And that was many years ago, you know,” she went on, giving me a knowing look. “I bet things are even more demanding now. Send me pictures, will you?”
“Sure thing, Jean.” Jules made the fake promise with genuine pain in her eyes. Not for her, it didn’t seem. But for Jean. For her grandmotherly enthusiasm for her happily ever after. The one that would not take place.
With that, Jules stuck the key in the lock, and moved inside to the small landing, barely big enough to turn around in, making my body almost press into hers before she took off up the staircase, footsteps muffled by the pretty hideous brown carpeting covering the steps.
I moved into a somewhat cramped space – at least in comparison to my own and Jules’. A living room was to the left, melting into a dining space that appeared to curve into a kitchen. To the right, you could see the white tile of a bathroom, then doors at the end of the hall. One open, one closed.
“Jules,” I hissed under my breath, closing my hand around her upper arm, trying to pull her to a stop as she went to charge off toward the rooms. “He could be here,” I told her, urging her to realize that a cornered man was a dangerous one.
“Good. I won’t have to travel far to whip his ass,” she told me, yanking her arm away, and charging down the hall, turning into the open door with reckless abandon.
I was right at her six, moving into what was the master bedroom. Not empty, but bare.
The king-sized bed was still there, held by the ugly black metal frame with attached headboard. There were sheets on the bed, but no comforter or pillows.
Two medium-wood nightstands flanked the sides, each with a matching lamp, but nothing else.
I’d bet all the drawers were empty.
As was the dresser that Jules was searching through a bit frantically, pulling one completely out, dropping it carelessly on the brown carpet that seemed to cover all the floors in the space save for the bathroom and, I imagined, the kitchen.
Finding nothing, she went into the closet, seeing nothing but wire and plastic hangers, something that seemed to make her growl before she turned back to me, a look of hopelessness in her eyes.
“What about the spare room?”
“He always said it was where he stored all his extra boxes.”
“You’ve never been in there?” I asked, surprised. Who had entire rooms that you had never at least seen?
“No,” she said, shoulders falling a bit, seeming to finally see the oddness of that. Especially after dating for well over a year, closing in on two.
“Alright, let’s check it out,” I offered, moving into the hall, letting her go before me, throwing open the door, and fumbling around on the wall to find the switch to the darkened room.
I had a feeling that as soon as the bright light flicked on, she regretted finding the switch in the first place.
