I heard another loud ‘BOOM’ as I rolled over in bed.
“What time is it?” I groggily asked my partner half asleep.
“3:15” She groaned.
“God dammit”
This was the third night this week we had been woken up by our upstairs neighbors. Ever since we had moved to my new apartment, Sandra and I had been dealing with day after day of the most loud and disrespectful bastards ever.
It started off okay, an occasional clatter of a pot or pan, maybe some loud footsteps when I am assuming they got home.
Our luck got worse as time passed. We would hear loud music almost at all times of the day. Shouts and screams were growing common as well. The stomping soon followed. Or maybe it wasn’t just a stomp. The sound resembled someone climbing as high as they could on a ladder and then jumping off to slam into the ground. Like a fucking wrestler. Right above our bedroom.
I hated being the guy to complain to management but after months of living right below the undertaker, I caved and made the call.
“Hi, I wanted to make a complaint. I live in apartment 10B. I’m not sure what is going on upstairs, but they are being far too loud at all hours of the night. Would you mind letting them know they are being disrespectful to their neighbors and to keep it down a little?” I explained my case while hopefully sounding not too rude or impatient.
“Sure, and you live in 10B right?”
“Yeah, correct.”
“Alright, I’ll have someone give them a notice that Paul from 10B wants them to keep it down.”
“Umm yeah, do you mind not telling them my name”
“Sorry, sir. Sure, we will keep your name out of the notice.”
I waited with bated breath the following night.
It was quiet.
“Thank god” I breathed with a sigh of relief.
BOOM.
I shot awake half dazed. Sandra was already up.
“Didn’t you call them?” She yelled, exasperated.
“Yeah, just yesterday”
A new sound accompanied the usual banging. I swear to god, it was as if someone had an aluminum baseball bat and was smashing random surfaces. Walls, furniture, and definitely the floor.
“Fuck this I’m gonna go knock on their door” I yelled as I threw on some old pajamas.
I walked up the small flight of stairs and loudly rapped on the door three times.
All of the sounds stopped for a minute.
Maybe 15 seconds later, a small woman opened the door. She was at least a foot shorter than me and looked as tired as I was. With bags under her eyes and her dark brown hair in a disheveled bun. Past her, I could see the apartment was in shambles. Scattered board games, toys and all sorts of stuff littered the floor in my line of sight. I noticed a peculiar painting of an upside-down caret symbol on the wall.
I softened for a minute after seeing her sad state. It’s a lot easier to think mean things than look at a human in the face and say them
” Hey, um… I live in 10B just down there. I think this apartment should be directly above me. Do you hear the banging and screaming too?”
She immediately apologized “Yes…. I am so sorry. My son has autism, he’s 16. I know we should be getting him to a group home or something.”
‘Dammit now I’m an asshole’ I thought to myself.
She continued, “I can try to have him keep it down. Sorry again”
“Cool, thanks for letting me know. It helps knowing some context. I totally understand” I replied as sweetly as I could, embarrassment coloring my face.
I made the walk back down.
“Mystery solved,” I said quietly as I closed our bedroom door. “Apparently there’s an autistic kid upstairs. He’s been the one making all those sounds.”
“Shit well that’s hard to be mad about” Sandra admitted. Just a sad situation for everyone involved.
Moving forward, we tried our best to block out the sounds. Even resorting to buying sound-proof foam to stick onto the walls.
To Sandra and my collective relief, our lease was just about to end, and we were ready to move far away from the area.
While touring, we found a nice apartment, built with more solid construction. The walls, ceiling and floors were all made of concrete. It was newly built within the year. Just to confirm, I asked the agent we were touring with:
” Hey, so does it get loud around here? Just wanted to make sure since we’re sensitive sleepers and wanted to make sure we won’t have any problems.”
“That’s the great part of the building’s construction. The walls are thick, you shouldn’t hear a thing. I wouldn’t worry about it at all”
Sandra and I signed for the room that day.
We had maybe a week when everything was quiet.
Sandra and I had a great Sunday. We went shopping, grabbed dinner in the nearby mall, and poured some wine for an at-home movie night. I had forgotten just how restorative a few nights of good sleep could be.
CRACK
I jolted awake, seeing the remaining wine stir slightly in the glass.
CRACK..CRACK…CRACK
It sounded like a mining operation was going on right above us. Like several pickaxes attempting to chip away at the concrete ceiling above us.
“Are you fucking kidding me” I roared
Sandra pressed her head into a pillow and screamed as loud as she could.
We suffered through two more days of the mining sounds and many other sounds that soon joined. I was astonished how we could hear boots stomping and loud music through all of the thick concrete, but somehow, we could.
On the third day, I had enough. I stormed up the stairs of the supposedly soundproof building and banged on the door of the room directly above us.
A tan-skinned man in a hardhat and safety vest opened the door. I noticed a small arrow tattoo on his arm.
“What the fuck is going on up here?” I screamed.
“We’re sorry sir, we are still working on making some finishes to this room.”
“At 2 in the fucking morning?”
“Sorry, we needed to have it done shortly, new tenants are moving in by the end of the month”
“So that gives you 24 days to finish whatever you’re working on. Why does it need to happen this late?” My patience was wearing paper thin at this point.
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” He repeated. “We are contracted by the property management company. We need to go according to schedule”
I told him to go fuck himself and stormed back down to my room.
“We’re right above some type of night shift construction project” I said as I slammed the door shut behind me.
That night, we decided to find a nearby hotel in hopes of finding a few hours of peace.
“Do you have any rooms on the top floor?” I asked with desperation on my face.
“No sir, we do have the corner suite open and can give it to you for the price of a normal room. It is one floor below the top”
“Has anyone booked the floor above us?”
The concierge clicked a few times on the computer.
“Nope, all clear.”
“Then why can’t I have that room?”
“We just had a guest in that room. Our cleaning crew will need to finish up the room before anyone else can stay there.”
“How long does that take? We can wait”
His demeanor changed for a second.
“Listen,” He said in a voice just below a whisper as his eyes squinted to meet mine, “You can’t have that room. Like I said, the suite is open if you want.” a sinister grin slowly formed on his face.
Almost as quickly, he returned to his previous friendly tone.
“Really sorry for the inconvenience sir”
I was at a loss for words as I nodded for him to slip us the paper envelope containing the two key cards.
I saw the reflections of Sandra and I in the elevator as the two metal door panels connected.
We looked horrible. The stress from lack of sleep had really taken their toll. I noticed my hair was looking thinner as well. The bright lights shining down on us didn’t help either.
“We look like two zombies don’t we” Sandra laughed, likely thinking the same thing I was.
Just as we were dozing off in our hotel room, it happened again.
BANG. The whole room shuddered. The thunderous sound of boots stomping on the ground above us made my heart rapidly thump in my chest.
At this point, we both had resigned ourselves to a sleepless night and walked back to the hotel lobby to pour some cups of coffee.
“How’s the suite treating you?” The concierge asked with a cheery grin.
I could have sworn I saw a knowing look in his grin. His eyes made contact with mine for just a little too long.
I just ignored his question. My eyes instead moved to a large cork board in the hotel lobby.
The card read:
Real Estate Agent: Christopher Salinas
“Noisy neighbors driving you up the wall? Give Chris Salinas a call!”
I stared at the card for a while, until turning to Sandra and asking:
“You think it’s time to buy a house?”
We gave Chris a call the following morning and scheduled a tour for a small 2-bedroom house, slightly outside the city.
Chris was a cheery realtor who loved to flash his perfect teeth in his wide smile.
“Hello, good to meet both of you!” He greeted me with a firm handshake with just the right grip, before moving to give Sandra a small hug. His movements seemed too perfect, as if he had practiced them a hundred times before.
Chris was tall and wore a dark purple suit. Even though he had to be at least in his 50’s, he retained his good looks.
After finishing the tour of the small house, we asked him for the price.
It was out of our budget to the tune of almost $50,000.
My eyes widened at his mention of the price.
“I don’t think we can fit that in our budget, Chris, it’s just a little too expensive.”
He gave a long pause and responded in his same warm tone, “No worries at all! This is the only house I have available, but you can feel free to check in later to see if any homes open up.”
His eyes met mine, “In this market it may be a few months before one will be available in your… price range. That’s okay, I’m sure you can just spend a few months longer in your current apartment.”
Sandra and I looked at each other, dreading another night of lost sleep in that construction site.
“Actually Chris, I think we can put some change together…”
We collectively pooled our money together, selling anything we could find. Both worked extra shifts, weekends, especially nights to scrounge up enough money for a down payment. I hated doing this, but I even asked to borrow some money from my parents to help with the purchase. We incurred the additional cost of breaking the lease as well. It was $2500 since we would have to cover several additional months of rent. But all of this was worth it.
Finally, no upstairs neighbors. We could finally get some peace and quiet in our own homes.
I counted every day until we could move in.
I’ll never forget the day when Chris finally handed us the keys to our new home.
The strangest thing happened right as we saw Chris drive away in his shiny black sports car.
In the back seat, I could have sworn I saw the same brown-haired woman who had lived above me when we lived in Room 10B in our old apartment. Her once disheveled hair was replaced with a neat bun.
I stared at the car in confusion as it drove down the street.
The woman turned to look at me with an eerie smile. It was definitely my old neighbor sitting in my realtor’s car.
She gave me a wink as the car turned the street and out of sight.