Chapter 1
Lana lit a cigarette and scoffed; she rested her forehead on her open palm, whilst the sound of drilling and hammering continuously penetrated her ears, rattling her brain and nerves. It'd been five days since the new neighbor moved in and there had been no stop at their working on renovating the apartment.
With a cup of steaming coffee in hand, she walked into the living room and turned the TV on; she watched, rather absentmindedly, the morning TV-shows that were running, learning about which celebrity married whom, who divorced whom, etc. etc.; in short, the
important
news of the day.
However, the constant work from next door kept on shaking the whole apartment, every few minutes the couch trembled as if subjected to a most violent earthquake. She drew a few deep breaths, desperately trying to recall the relaxing methods she had learned during the few months she had attended yoga classes; breathe in through the nose, count till 7, then exhale, slowly and softly whistling, through the mouth. Repeat. Repeat.
It didn't work; her attempts to concentration were ruined by the sound of a hammer hitting a nail, or a drill puncturing a hole through the wall. It was a relatively old condominium, the walls were not very thick; consequently, most sounds easily were transmitted between the two apartments.
Lana certainly missed (now more than ever before) the elderly couple that had been her neighbors up until recently; unfortunately, they moved to the countryside, finally tired of the hectic rhythms of metropolitan life. The only sound ever to come from their apartment was the loud television early in the night—usually, tuned in to whichever reality show was trending—and, on occasion, the husband's snoring.
And Lana—as well as her husband, Robert—had learned to live with it; besides, they, too, watched television, talked, on occasion argued in high tones, and their old neighbors had never complained; only the wife would, occasionally, drop by in the morning for a cup of coffee and a chat, and she'd mention the arguments, although in good spirits, wishing to put her experiences in use by offering (implicit) advice.
The new neighbor(s), however, had not, insofar, proven equally discrete; Lana had no idea who they were, nor how many they were. She could only tell they had no children, judging by the audible noises and voices; the morning work appeared to be conducted by only one person, yet, she couldn't tell if the other person was at work, just like Robert.
On the other hand, in the nights there'd always be loud sex noises; loud moaning, groaning, heavy panting. Usually, Lana also discerned the sounds of slapping, choking... more than one night she embraced sleeplessness to lie down awake and listen to the seemingly rough sex, the strange woman scream in absolute thrill, the man breathing heavily (presumed, by Lana, near the woman's ear).
On the TV set a group of smiling people were dancing and laughing, as they played a game of questions regarding celebrities and next-door the neighbor was still drilling holes on the wall (although, the sound had grown fainter, which meant they were working on the other side of the apartment, for which Lana felt grateful). She finished her weak coffee and got up.
Headed to the bathroom; she took out her skin-colored negligee and stepped on the weight:
54kg
it read and she sighed in relief. She stayed in the shower for quite some time, since the running water both soothed her aching mind and drowned out the irritating noise.
Eventually, and quite reluctantly, she stepped out of the shower; her long, blonde hair was wet and heavily sitting on her shoulders. She brushed them meticulously, then brushed her teeth; she then smiled at herself in the mirror, after having checked for any wrinkles, pimples, or other signs of age.
She put on her negligee once more, proud of herself for still being fresh and good-looking, despite having recently turned 38. On her way to the kitchen, going for her second cup of coffee, she was confronted by the photographs hanging on the living room's walls, nearly covering them whole; they were a vast collage of memories from a time long gone.
She poured the steaming coffee, lit a cigarette, and returned to the pictures on the wall, reminding her of far more exciting times that, on occasions like this, appeared as if they belonged to a different lifetime altogether.
Robert, she, and Jenna (their daughter) were posing in front of various monuments of European capitals; they were smiling at the camera, as they stood on some street of some Asian city; she held Jenna in her arms, both smiling, with the Grand Canyon as background.
She sighed heavily, dragged a puff from her cigarette solemnly, and returned to the couch; the "party" on the TV show was still ongoing, yet, Lana could not follow it, nor truly appreciate the effort the hosts were putting to entertain their viewers. Besides, the noise had not ceased for a single moment and now there was nothing to drown the drilling sounds, nor to distract her mind.
With her coffee half-drunk, she crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, put a bathrobe on, and, with fury swarming her heart, got out of the apartment.
She rang the neighbor's bell, not certain what she wanted to accomplish; nevertheless, her face was lightly flushed and her heart was beating fast. Time had come to meet the new neighbors and, why not, to see the apartment for which they needed so many hours of constant work to set up.
The door was answered shortly thereafter and Lana was still boiling with anger; however, that very anger evaporated almost in an instant, as the sight caught her completely by surprise. A tall (nearly 2m high), bald, robust, young man opened the door, covered in sweat and with a scarlet face; Lana cleared her throat, as her gaze unwillingly scanned the man's trained, and naked, upper body.
"Hello," the man said in a steady, yet questioning, voice, "how may I help you?"
A lump in her throat made it hard both to swallow and to talk; she remained thus simply standing there, speechless and feeling like a complete idiot.
"I'm your neighbor," she finally said after clearing, loudly, her throat and motioned to her door, "and, thought, I should..." her speech was broken, filled with pauses, but, eventually, managed to introduce herself properly.
"Very nice to meet you," the young man shook her hand heartily. "My name's Stan... well, Stanley, but, no one calls me that. And, by the way, I'm sorry if I've been a bother with... I know it can be frustrating, but, I'm trying to set my place up the way I want it and... well, it does take longer than I had thought."
"Oh, it's all right," Lana dismissed him with a wide smile. "Perfectly understandable; I think, when we first moved in, it took us some weeks properly to settle in. And there's always something that needs be changed, you know?"
"Yes, I know," he nodded smilingly. "
We
, by the way? Married?"
"Yes," she lowered her gaze.
"When I'm done with the renovations," Stan broke the ensued silence, "I'll be glad to have both you and your husband over for dinner; to get to know you both
and
compensate, as much as possible, for all the disturbance I've caused." The wide, bright smile he offered her made his fresh face seem even more handsome.
"That'd be lovely," she agreed. "We're neighbors, we should... know each other, right?"
"Absolutely," he agreed heartily. "By the way," he motioned to the inside of his apartment, "would you care for some coffee? The place is still a mess, but... I could use a break, and... well, if you don't have anything to do, of course. Don't feel obliged to say yes, I..."
"Okay, sure," she said hurriedly, immediately regretting the hastiness with which she had accepted, fearing it came off desperate, if not something else entirely.
"Splendid," he let her in and led her to the kitchen.
"So," she said after she had taken a seat at the kitchen table, not having been able to take a peek at the apartment that needed such noisy renovation, since all doors but for the one leading to the kitchen were shut, "what brings you to our lovely neighborhood?"
"Work," he said, while pouring water into the coffeemaker. "I'm a gym teacher; was transferred recently to this district's school, so..." he shrugged his shoulders.
"So, where did you work before?"
"I was at a school out in the countryside," he said with a nostalgic smile, "up in the mountains; very lovely location, although the conditions were hard. Most kids had to ride farm trucks every day to come to school. Kind of breaks your heart, to see how the state does not ensure these kids have what they need; especially, when you get to see, firsthand, the thirst these kids have for learning.
"Anyway, I really liked it there, despite the conditions, the weather... people were really friendly, they'd open their doors for me at any time, and I got to know them real well. To be honest, I was quite depressed, when I got transferred."
"How long did you work there? I mean," she added, suddenly feeling intrusive, "you look so young, so... it can't be
that
long ago you graduated, right?"
He chuckled warmly, served two cups of coffee. "Thank you," he gave her one of the cups, she refused his offer for cream and sugar. "I was there for two years; my first assignment after college. And, to be honest, I felt bad for being transferred, because almost
no one
wants to go work at these schools; you know, the ones up in the middle of nowhere.
"I feel bad for the kids," he sat heavily down and sighed deeply. "I learned to love them and, I think, they loved me, too. And now, I've...
abandoned
them. Okay, yes," he quickly added, "I know it's not the right word, but, it's how it feels, you know?"
She reached for him and patted him tenderly on the shoulder; her bathrobe had opened and her legs were now exposed, as she crossed them high. He did briefly notice, but, quickly averted his glance.
"And," he continued after they both had a sip of coffee in silence, "the worst part—worst in terms of my inner turbulence, that is—is that my transfer was not...
completely legitimate.
I should have spent a few more years teaching in the countryside, before I could be transferred to the city, but...
"There's this basketball team I used to play for, and... they wanted me to coach their young team. So, they pulled a few strings—someone knew someone in the educational ministry, apparently—and brought me here. And hence," he opened his arms and smiled, "here I am."
"Quite the story," she nodded and bit the corner of her lips. "So, a gym teacher
and
a basketball player. That certainly explains the physique!"
"Thanks," he chuckled, warmly. "Although, basketball was never my first choice; I've always wanted to play soccer, you know? But, my gym teachers, back when I was a student, would not hear about it. They said it'd be a waste someone my height and stature did not play basketball; I did good, they were probably right to push me to that direction, but...
"I think the main reason I chose this profession was because I wanted to be able to help children follow their dreams, you know? I wanted to be that one gym teacher, who encourages everybody to take up the sport they really love, regardless of physical stature.
