Special

The two people above us in 7a were loud. I mean, the guy had a LOUD voice. You could hear him booming through the ceiling, every syllable, every utterance, as he banged on like someone shouting into a bullhorn at a funfair. I mean Wow! Did this guy like to talk! To me, it sounded like he got off on supplying a running commentary on everything, no matter how trivial, a steady flow of words intended to illuminate his every thought. It got so bad that on rare occasions when there was silence, we’d sit there, counting out the seconds before he started up again. 1-2-3-4-5-6…..and off he'd go. Talking, talking, talking. The woman, although she was less talkative, would contribute, filling in the gaps between his diatribes with her squeaky voice. This happened every night and pretty much all weekend.  

The old man who used to live up there, in the apartment above us, never made a peep. I mean we literally never heard him. Not sneeze. Not even the occasional scrape of a chair being dragged across the floor. Nothing. So we had no idea about his life. Sure, we ran into him in the corridor from time-to-time and said ‘hello’ but that was about it. He kept to himself. Had a really quiet life. Then he moved out or maybe he died? I'm not too clear on what happened there. Anyway, once he was gone, these two big mouths moved in. 

I don’t know what was so damn interesting about their lives that they needed to blather away so much. Some people just like to talk. My brother is a talker. He will go on and on forever. I once said to him, Jed, do you think there is a thing such as too much explaining? He said, what do you mean? And I said, dude, you have some very interesting things to say but what I’m suggesting here is that…maybe all your good ideas are getting lost in the….(I wanted to say 'bullshit' but I didn’t)….explaining. Didn’t a famous philosopher once say, the quite man keeps his tongue while everyone in the room is busy losing theirs? Something like that. 

Anyway, my brother Jed looked at me kind of funny when I said this and then he goes, it's called conversation dickhead. And I said, hey sugar tits I’m just telling you this for your own good. I am just trying to educate you here with some advice. Understand?  

Oh man, that wasn’t what you'd call a 'pleasant evening'. Not at all. Jed didn't speak to me for a couple of weeks after that because he was having a sulk. Or maybe it was me? I can’t remember all the details.  

Anyway, from the very first night they appeared, the people up in 7a would blather on and on. Yap, yap, yap.....And you have to understand, they lived right on top of us so it wasn't just the talking. No. They were LOUD in every other way. We could hear them doing everything: eating their cornflakes, brushing their teeth, walking from room-to-room, slamming doors shut, opening and closing cupboards every two minutes, turning on taps, flushing the toilet, watching the telly, screwing….their sex life alone was.....well, it sounded like a pair of walruses fighting over a fish. And aside from the escalating cries and grunts, there was also the headboard thumping out a steady rhythm against the wall. Thump, thump, thump. To have such an intimate understanding of someone’s sex life was a little disturbing, to say the least. (And I’ll admit it, they made me feel a bit lazy like maybe Izzy and I were slacking off a bit in the old boudoir lov'n department. As a result, I bought some novelty items from a shop on Oxford Street and this costume Izzy wanted me to wear during our intimate times. I don't know. In short, we tried some of this fantasy stuff which came out in our annual 'relationship performance review'. Man, I do not like the annual RPR but Izzy insists).

So were really annoyed with the people up in 7a for a long time. We complained about them and I left an anonymous note pinned to their door in which I said some pretty direct things, let me tell you. Then we discovered they were mentally impaired. Or whatever the expression is. The signs had been right there in front of us the whole time, we just hadn't seen them! Of course, Izzy and I both felt terrible. We’d been making all these judgements and assumptions about this poor couple and we'd been completely wrong. We felt like complete monsters. Here were these two brave people doing their best to live productive lives. They both worked, they paid their bills and they lived independent lives. And we had been so insensitive, so narrow-minded, wrapped up in our problems, we had completely missed the obvious. Of course! They were both one banana short of a smoothly. And this is exactly what living in the city does to you, right? It makes you selfish. It makes you into an insensitive person.  

Anyway, we felt like despicable human beings. So after that, we went out of our way to be nice to the couple in 7a. Instead of snubbing them, as we had in the past when we ran into them in the entrance way or in the laundry area, we always made sure to say HELLO. HOW ARE YOUR TODAY? THE WEATHER IS VERY NICE, ISN’T IT? or DO YOU HAVE ANY SPECIAL PLANS FOR THE WEEKEND?I JUST HEARD THEY OPENED A NEW THAI RESTAURANT AROUND THE CORNER. IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE VERY GOOD. Just normal conversations like that. Because they were no different to anyone else. 

And yes, after awhile it became apparent that we were over-compensating a bit with all the shouting, that we needed to tone it down a bit. After all, they were mentally impaired, not deaf for god-sakes. Anyway, Izzy and I were determined to help these people out. We took their laundry off the line when it looked like rain. We signed for their packages and registered mail when they were out. We held the door open when they came in loaded down with groceries. Basically, everything a good neighbour could and should do….that's exactly what we did. 

In hindsight, I can see how this compassion overload and neighbourly concern might have freaked them out a bit. What I'm saying is it caused a bit of tension, you know, especially the way our attitude towards them had suddenly done a complete turnaround. It must have felt a little bit like we were stalking them or something. It got to the point where they started trying to avoid us. But no. No way! We were like, sorry folks, we have to make this up to you. We have been monsters and we need to make amends. So, like it or not, from now on we are going to be model neighbours. We are going to help you and improve your lives whether you like it or not. We have messed up our own karma through ignorance and now it is time to correct the imbalance. 

One time, I saw the guy from 7a coming out of our local gym. So what did I do? I joined the same gym! I had this plan that we could work out together, right? We could spot each other lifting weights. I saw myself eventually becoming a kind of mentor for this guy. A life coach or something. It couldn't have been easy for him dealing with the prejudices of the world. Anyway, he was on the cross-trainer one afternoon, reflected nine times over in all those surrounding mirrors, slogging his guts out and I walked up to him, like whoa! Dude! What a coincidence! Look who it is! My neighbour! Isn't this a surprise! And I started telling him how brave he and his girlfriend were for overcoming the obstacles life had thrown in their path. How Lizzy and I had the greatest respect for people like them. And he was looking at me with that slightly confused expression his type usually wore. Like he was just a few seconds behind with the old comprehension of what was happening. I told him if there was ANYTHING he and his girlfriend needed, anything at all, all they need to do was knock on our door and we’d help them out. Rain or shine. Now whether he was shy or embarrassed by what I was saying, I don't know. The point is he made a quick retreat from that situation, muttering that he was grateful but it wasn't at all necessary. And when he was gone, it occurred to me that I’d been a complete boob. Again! God, I had so much to learn from these people. They were obviously proud. They didn't want undue attention drawn to their plight. They wanted....no, they deserved anonymity just like anyone else. 'Special treatment' was simply not a part of their language.  

I think Izzy and I may have crossed the line when we left the bottle of wine with the card at their front door. A nice gesture but maybe too much. Billy down at the bottle shop assured me this was a very nice drop for the ten bucks I spent. I don't know anything about wine. I mean, I know it comes from grapes. I know you sniff it before you drink it, but that's it. We didn’t even know if people like them were allowed to have alcohol but we decided to give it a try. The bottle and the card were returned, plonked on our front door the following day. The card was opened but the bottle was still sealed thank you very much. The message was pretty darn clear: we are fine without your help. Please back off. As to the contents of the card? Well, Izzy is good with words so she was the one who explained our misunderstanding with their mental conditions. Just to get it all out in the open.   

The real kicker came a few nights later. Izzy happened to be standing at our front door, listening. My Izzy has very good hearing and she liked to know what was going on in the building. This is one of the reasons I married her. Her civic mindedness. Anyway, they were both returning from work, climbing the stairs with their wet umbrellas and their groceries. My Izzy heard them talking out there on the landing. They had the nerve to describe us as ‘Those two idiots who live in 5b". Can you believe that? It made me….mad. Furious I mean we are good people. Caring people. And this was what we got in return? Well, it just goes to show you…you can try to help someone but you never know, do you? Sometimes your best inflexions just don’t make the grade. 

Anyway, we backed off after that, let me tell you. I ran into Mrs Fletcher a few days later. And according to Mrs Fletcher, the couple in 7a were “normal”. Normal! Well, you could have fooled me, I snorted. Mrs fletched gave me a funny look as I said this. 
There should be some kind of law against misrepresenting yourself like that, I continued, working myself up into a state. 
Mrs Fletcher goes, like what? 
Like they did, I said. The couple up in 7a. It’s as plain as the nose on your face. 
And she goes, are you absolutely sure they 'misrepresented' themselves Kevin? I mean why would they do something that? 
And I said, have you been listening to what I just said? Have you??
Mrs Fletcher smiled very sweetly and said, Kevin. I have been listening to you. I think it's great how you and Izzy are always so concerned with the well-being of your neighbours. Especially people in this building. I think this is a very admirable quality. I really do.... 

I nodded. I always liked hearing Mrs fletcher's opinions about these kinds of things. She was retired kindergarten teacher. She worked for like forty years in the same school. Imagine that? All those kids coming through and growing up! She must have known half of the people in Sydney! She once told me that she remembers each and every little face, that she has a...what do you call it....photogenic memory. The clever ones, the not-so-clever ones, the good ones, the bad ones, the strange ones and the "special" ones. 
Anyway, she was talking away about how special Izzy and I were. To her. And I must have zoned out or something because then Mrs Fletcher kind of barked out my name the way you do when you want to snap a daydreamer back into the here and now. Like, WAKE UP SLEEPYHEAD! 
Look, Kevin, she continued, I would suggest that you and Izzy stop worrying about those people. To me, it sounds very much like, somewhere along the line, you both got the wrong idea about those people 7a? Do you think that a possibility? 
I shrugged. Maybe she was right. I still wasn't convinced. 
If I were you, said Mrs Fletcher, I would just leave them alone for the time being. I really do think that would be for the best. There's a good boy.