It was early in the fall of last year when I heard noises in the apartment below mine. The previous tenant had long since moved out, and someone new was moving in, but not, from what I could tell, all at once. Every few days, I heard someone bumping around downstairs, and then nothing at all. I never saw a moving van. I never saw anyone trudging up and down to the second floor with furniture or boxes. I never saw a lamp—or anything else, for that matter—at the bottom of the stairs, waiting to be taken up. I caught a glimpse of a woman from time to time, but I was never certain that she was my new neighbor.
A couple of weeks into this, I ran into my neighbor Erica, who lives two floors down, directly beneath me. “Is someone moving in between us?” I asked. Someone was, she told me, and her name was Karli.
Almost immediately after this conversation, Karli finally settled in, and with her, her two dogs. Like Karli, her pups were hidden-away mysteries. I never saw them, but I would often hear them barking. And then I wouldn’t hear them barking. And then I would. And then I wouldn’t. It finally registered with me that they would bark whenever Karli wasn’t home. It was kind of cute: they missed their mom, the neighbor I never saw.
MEETING
About two months after Karli moved in, it happened that she was getting into her car as I was walking to mine. Great! We’ll finally meet! This was my first studied look at her: she was warm, pretty, and smiling. We introduced ourselves, exchanged some small talk, and then, because I only knew one thing about her and my social skills are dubious at best, I said, “Well, I always know when you’re home.”
Well done, Scott. Juuuuust super. Of course, I instantly regretted saying that because now, to Karli, the lovely young woman who lived beneath me, whom I had literally just met, I sounded as though I hated dogs or was seriously creepy. Or both. The only thing I needed to do to make the situation worse was to lick my lips while maintaining eye contact. I didn’t, though, and somehow I fudged my way through the conversation, ending it on a less awkward note. The catastrophic moment, however, would play repeatedly in my mind.
CHRISTMAS
I didn’t see Karli again except from a distance for a while. As Christmas drew nearer, I decided to get the dogs a little bag of treats to smooth away the earlier incident. Then I came home one afternoon to find a gift bag hanging on my doorknob. Inside was an assortment of chocolates, some earplugs, and a little index card signed by Karli, Honey, and Scrappy (both of the pups in their own handwriting, with backwards R’s and everything). The kids said they hoped they weren’t too loud and that the earplugs might help with the barking. It was incredibly sweet, and I felt terrible.
That night, I went to the pet store and bought Honey and Scrappy each a small toy and a bag of treats. I enclosed a little note about how I loved hearing their voices—I honestly did; they were brave protectors for their mom, handling the very serious business of keeping watch and securing their home. I quietly hung the bag on Karli’s door and snuck back upstairs.
New Year’s came and went. I didn’t see Karli again until sometime in January, and when I did catch a glimpse of her, I inadvertently ignored her, mistakenly believing she was a stranger.
SCRAPPY
At the end of that month, my mom was hospitalized, and on February 1st, she passed away. I was out of town just before and for several days after her passing. I bring this up because my life is incredibly routine, so for me to be away from home is highly unusual. When I returned home, I ran into Karli, walking Scrappy. Unaware of why I had been away, she boldly and regrettably asked me, “How was your vacation?”
“Actually, my mom died,” I said.
Sure.I definitely could have offered a more delicate response, but the awkwardness of the situation was too great a temptation. She was mortified for asking her question, of course, but for me, it was a soothing lightheartedness I needed in that moment. I reassured her that it was perfectly fine, and it made me smile inside, sharing a moment I knew we would revisit.
At the time this was happening, though, Scrappy was having absolutely none of this. “Who the hell are you, getting all up in my mom’s business? Do you not hear me barking, Stranger Danger? Let me at him, Mom!”
And then Scrappy got a little free from her grip, jumped up, and scraped my hand with his teeth. Karli quickly wrangled him into her car, and while she did, I assured her he was fine; she hadn’t seen the gash, nor the copious amount of blood that was now dripping down my hand. I turned so that it was out of view when Karli returned. We talked more about my mom’s passing, and she asked if I wanted a hug. “Yes” seemed not only like the best answer, but the one I wanted to give. So we hugged.
After the hug, and because I didn’t want the moment to end, we kept talking as I continued to bleed out. She had such a lovely face. She was such a lovely person. This is a lovely place to be.
GAMES
About two months later, I ran into Erica again and she offhandedly mentioned that the neighbors (including Karli) regularly had game nights at the clubhouse. I practically pleaded to be invited. She put me on the group chat, and in April and May, I got to know my neighbors better, and, most specifically, I got to know Karli better during game nights.
At first, I sat across the table from her, certain that was close enough. Then I sat beside her. And then sometimes, Karli would text me outside of the group chat about things that had nothing to do with game nights. The first time it happened, I was confused about why she was texting me, but I was elated.
In the middle of May, Karli, Erica, Darcy (another neighbor), and I went out for pizza and trivia night at a local brewery. The next night, I had the three of them up for dinner and social hour in my place. We all laughed and played and laughed some more. Late in the evening, everyone went home.
COMING UP
Not long after, Karli started coming up to my apartment by herself to hang out. Somewhere along the way in all of this, I became thoroughly smitten. And somewhere along the way, Karli did, too. While I am almost always oblivious, surprisingly, I got the feeling that our attraction was mutual. Finally, one night, I had to tell her how I felt. I didn’t know what to say, but I had to say something.
Love is always risky, and putting your heart out for someone is more than a little nerve-wracking. It’s something I’ve largely avoided doing. With Karli, the situation was more complicated: beyond the potential heartbreak, there was the practical issue of us being neighbors. We might be in a terribly awkward jam if things didn’t work out between us.
As we sat in my apartment and I worked up the nerve to say something, Karli sensed nervous tension in me, and before I could say what I hoped to say, she went back down to her apartment to let me decompress. Completely confused, I texted her, stating that I didn’t know how to say what I wanted to say without sounding nutty, but that I had a lot of excitement in my head. She texted, “I can come up.” And then she did.
And now? Well, now I have so many lovely tales to tell, I barely know where to begin. This story with the woman in 2-B has only just begun.
END NOTES
After Karli and I became an item, I showed her the scar on my hand where Scrappy had brushed me with his teeth. Now, she and I go on multiple walks a day together, holding hands while Scrappy and Honey walk in front of us on leads. Last week, Scrappy laid his head on my lap while Karli and I sat in an oversized chair. And both Scrappy and Honey get excited whenever I go downstairs, which, of course, is regularly. For your viewing pleasure, I have included a picture of me (left) with the best boy below.
