Apartment 401
By Alyson-Louise Belle
As in any good story, before things get better, things get much worse. I might call this a story, but it is not a work of fiction. This is a story of a young girl, only sixteen years of age. She is quite pretty to most, with long blond hair that waves and curls about like silk ribbons. Her eyes are big and ultramarine coloured, and she has a slightly petite figure. Her fingers are long and graceful and she always wears a ring on her wedding finger, though she is not married. She has had her heart scarred once, and does not intend for it to be scarred again. As only a young girl, she was constantly abused physically and verbally by her own father. Her mother died when the girl was young. Finally, the man was arrested, leaving his eleven year old daughter to never love again. She vowed to herself that she would never get married, for fear of marrying a man like her father. Who is this poor, pretty young wretch? Why, her name is Natalie. Natalie Wilhelmina Boyd, to be precise. She was born in Seattle, and moved to New York by the Child Protective Services, where she was placed in a foster home. When she was thirteen, she was adopted by a kind old woman who went by the name of Arabella Mortensen. Moving back to the story, we meet Natalie as she walks down the streets of New York City. She carries two paper bags full of groceries and the late March snow blows mercilessly in her face. Natalie wears only a jacket made for chilly nights in spring and a pair of torn Jordaches. Her black All Star sneakers are wet with dirty snow and her feet feel like they’re about to fall off. Suddenly, a car swerves towards her and splashes polluted mush (which used to be snow) all over Natalie. She drops her groceries and the sports car parks on the curb, running over Natalie’s bread. She takes a deep breath and tries not to start crying as five young men pile out of the car. Four of them laugh at Natalie and call her names. The fifth, however, goes to Natalie and starts to help her pick up her things. He has blond highlighted, brown hair, and it curls out a little at the ends and in the back, and brushes his eyebrows. His eyes are a blue-gray colour and he’s tall and slender. Natalie tries to stop him from helping her.
“I have it, thanks,” Natalie says as she leans over to pick up the ripped bags. The boy looks at her.
“Are you kidding?” he asks. “Look at yourself. You need a ride home?”
Natalie takes this the wrong way and frowns as she gathers up the rest of her groceries.
“Good bye,” she says, and begins to walk away. The boy stands and touches her arm. Natalie jerks it away and he holds his hands in the air.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Here.” To Natalie’s surprise, he takes his coat off and puts it around her shoulders. Her expression softens toward him and she even smiles a little.
“Thank you,” she says. The boy nods and heads back toward his companions. As Natalie turns a corner, the boy calls, “Wait!” Natalie looks at him. “I’m Mike.” Natalie nods and keeps walking. She gets to Arabella’s apartment and heads up the stairs with one bag, half full of dented cans of Spaghetti O’s and a loaf of nearly smashed bread.
“Oh, my dear, you’re home,” Arabella says as Natalie enters the two bedroom apartment. The place has a combined kitchen and living room as well as a bathroom with a small shower. Arabella has her crystal ball set up on the table and she’s looking into it with her sparkling grey eyes. Sometimes, it seemed to Natalie that Arabella is a little loose upstairs, if you catch my meaning. Arabella thought she could talk to the dead, and often at night, Natalie would hear her cursing the girl’s father.
Natalie sets the bag on the small table and goes in her bedroom to change into dry clothes. When she comes out, Arabella stares sadly into the bag of groceries. Natalie wraps her arm around Arabella’s shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Arabella,” Natalie says kindly. “This car full of idiots made me drop the rest.” Arabella’s lips curl up into a smile.
“One of them wasn’t an idiot, love,” she says, looking into Natalie’s eyes. Natalie waits for her to finish, but Arabella just looks at the fleece jacket on the sofa which anyone could tell is too big for Natalie even if she wasn’t wearing it. Natalie shrugs.
“He just helped me get some of this,” she says, looking at the groceries. “I didn’t want him to.”
“What’s his name?” Arabella asks. Natalie starts putting the Spaghetti O’s away.
“Ah,” she says, trying to make it look like she doesn’t remember. “Ike? Tyke?” Arabella looks at Natalie.
“Mike?” she asks. Natalie looks at her and nods after a minute. “Oh,” Arabella says. “He’s probably that singer in the band at our club.”
“O’Reilly’s?” Natalie asks. Arabella nods, but Natalie shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Of course, you could be right. I’ll bring him his jacket tomorrow night.” Arabella nods approvingly and Natalie laughs. Since Arabella had adopted Natalie, she had taken the girl to a small nightclub where the employees and the owner, an old Irish man, had become great friends with Arabella and Natalie, because they go to the club every Friday night.
“Natalie, darling, will you grab my mac, please?” Arabella asks as she and Natalie head out the door the next night. “It’ll be rainy out,” Arabella says. Natalie smiles in amusement at the fact that Arabella still called raincoats ‘macs’ which are what they used to be called in the United Kingdom.
“His coat,” Natalie mutters to herself. She grabs the North Face jacket from the sofa and follows Arabella out the door. The club is simply below their apartment, and they walk down the stairs to O’Reilly’s and sit at their usual booth by the window.
“Hello, girls,” the Irish owner, says. “How are we tonight?”
“Pretty good, Charlie,” Natalie responds. “We’ll have our usual, please.” Charlie smiles and nods. (Their usual is a BLT, which is huge, an iced tea for Arabella, and a Dr. Pepper for Natalie.) Natalie sees the band come in, and they are, in fact, the guys who had made her drop the groceries. The drummer, Marshall, comes in last and sits quietly at his drum set. Without realizing it, Natalie catches the eye of Marshall. Their eyes are locked in one another’s for a moment, then the band starts to play and Natalie looks away.
After they eat, Arabella goes back to the apartment and Natalie goes to the roof. She’s not cold, and she finds it strange because it’s ten o’ clock at night in New York City in March. Even so, she isn’t cold and she’s even slightly warm. She hears someone coming up the steps to the roof. Natalie turns and sees Mike. Natalie stands and is about to leave. Mike looks at her and touches her hand. To her surprise, Natalie gets goose bumps and something in her stomach does a somersault. It goes away quickly, though, and she looks at Mike.
“Stay,” he says softly. “Please.” Something about his eyes combined with the dimples as he smiles softly makes Natalie nod after a minute. They lean on the parapet and look down at the city.
“You live with your grandma?” Mike asks. Natalie doesn’t understand at first.
“Oh, Arabella,” she says. “She adopted me when I was twelve.” Mike is silent for a moment.
“You’ve had a hard life,” he muses. Natalie looks at him.
“How did you know?” she asks. Mike looks into her eyes.
“Your eyes are sad,” he said. “You have a scar on your wrist. Where’d you get it?” Natalie pulls her sleeves down to her knuckles.
“My father,” she said finally. “He used to hurt me and burn me with cigarettes. My mother died when I was eight. Then one night at three in the morning when I was eleven, the police came to my door and told me my father had been put in jail. He killed a person while he was drunk. After that, I was moved around a lot, and finally moved here to New York and adopted by Arabella, who is originally from England.” Natalie sighs and Mike slowly moves his hand over and lays it on Natalie’s. She looks at it and blinks nervously. She lets it go, though.
“You know,” she says after a minute. “You’re the only person besides Arabella I’ve ever told.” Mike looks out at the city.
“You know why that is?” he asks. Natalie looks at him.
“Why?”
“It’s because you’re afraid to love,” he says. Natalie looks away and blinks. She gently pulls her hand away from Mike’s and rests her head in her hands.--
“Was that your chat-up line?” she asks. Mike looks slightly offended.
“Of course not,” he says. He laughs. “My chat-up line was ‘Since when do angels take on the form of a teenage girl?’ ” This makes Natalie laugh, and Mike chuckles with her.
“What’s your family story?” Natalie asks. “Certainly not as depressing as mine, I’m sure.” Mike shrugs.
“My family’s pretty high-ranking,” he says, “they just don’t like me talking about it.” Natalie looks at him. “Let’s just say I’m slightly jealous of my older brother,” he says finally. “He’s got a wife, who used to be my best friend I might add, and six children, and a nice job. Here I am a singer-songwriter in a rock band in New York City.” Natalie blinks.
“Were you a trouble-maker?” Natalie asks. Mike laughs.
“Heck yeah,” he says. “I was the second oldest of six kids. It was me and my brother, then four girls, and I bothered them as much as I possibly could. I stole my dad’s motorcycle when I was fourteen once. I got suspended from school when I was sixteen. I got left at Disney World when I was five. For an hour. But it’s cool.” Natalie laughs.
“That life doesn’t sound too bad,” she murmurs. Mike shrugs again.
After a while, Natalie realizes how long she’s been with Mike. Her wrist-watch says half past midnight.
“I had better go now,” she says. Mike nods and smiles softly.
When Natalie gets to her apartment, Arabella is asleep and there’s a new bag of groceries on the table. Natalie looks inside and sees the things she dropped in the road (they were fresh). There’s a little card inside. It says Sorry about your food. I hope you forgive us. –Mike. Natalie runs back to the hallway to try and catch Mike as he leaves, but when she reaches the hallway, he’s already gone. Natalie goes to bed, exhausted.
The next morning is Saturday, and Natalie is puzzled to find she doesn’t smell bacon when she wakes up. Arabella always makes bacon for breakfast on Saturday mornings. Natalie hears something fall and she gets out of bed and goes to the kitchen. Arabella is falling over and Natalie runs to the woman and tries to catch her.
“Arabella?” she says, sounding like a little child. “Arabella, wake up. Please, don’t leave me now. I need you, Arabella!” Natalie found tears rolling down her cheeks as she realized Arabella Mortensen was gone. There’s a broken teacup on the floor, and Natalie sinks to the floor with Arabella in her lap. She breaks down and begins to sob for her Arabella.
Only a few close family members come to Arabella’s funeral. Natalie tries to keep her spirits up, even though she knows she’ll be on her own after her seventeenth birthday, which is only in a couple of weeks. As the last words are said, Natalie takes a deep breath and heads to the back door of the enormous Episcopal Church. She wanders around the cemetery in the churchyard and looks at the dates, trying to figure out how long they lived. One, she saw, lived from 1643 to 1749. 106 years, she calculates. She turns to go back inside, and as she does so, she runs right into a person. He grabs her by the shoulders so she doesn’t fall, and Natalie sees it is Mike.
“Well,” she says, “you just keep popping up out of nowhere, don’t you.” Mike gives her a small smile.
“I’m sorry about Arabella,” he says, a little bit more sadly than Natalie expected. “She was a good woman. A little bit far out, but good.” Natalie frowns and looks at the ground.
“How would you know?” she asks. Mike looks away as well.
“She was my great aunt,” he says. Natalie looks at him in shock. She opens and closes her mouth, and she’s as still as though she has been shot with a stun gun.
“Well…I…” she stammers. “Mike, I’m sorry. Why didn’t...?”
“I thought it best not to tell you,” he says. “I thought if she knew that you knew that I was related to her, she would try to get us together or something.” Natalie can’t help but get slightly irritated.
“Isn’t that what you’re trying to do?” she mutters. Mike furrows his brow.
“Of course not,” he says. “I just want to be your friend.” It is silent as they walk back toward the church.
“You know,” Mike says as they come to the door. Natalie looks at him. “You could stay with me and the band for a while.” Natalie tries to refuse.
“Mike, I don’t-” she attempts. Mike looks into her face.
“It’s not like you have anywhere to go,” he says. “And it’ll only be for a while. We have an empty room in the apartment.” Natalie pauses and looks at Mike. Something about his eyes makes her want to go to the moon for him if he wants.
“Fine,” she says finally, without smiling. “But only until I get a job and find a home.” Mike gives her a small smile.
“I’ll come get you tomorrow,” he says, then he leaves. Natalie shakes her head, chiding herself for falling for him like this. She goes inside the church and with a glance at Arabella’s coffin, she turns and continues out the door. Natalie heads to Arabella’s old-fashioned VW Beetle. It’s a chrome-orange colour and Arabella was always saying if she died, Natalie could have the car. So she gets in and drives to the apartment to pack what little things she has. She can’t believe she’s falling for Mike, but she’s grateful she’s found a friend.
The next morning, Natalie is in bed asleep. Mike is outside the door in the hallway. He knocks, but no one answers, so he opens the door and peeks inside. He assumes Natalie isn’t awake, so he goes inside the apartment and looks around. He sees a few tattered boxes and a suitcase, so he goes ahead and takes them to his car, which is a simple BMW, and puts them in his trunk. When he goes back upstairs, Natalie still isn’t awake, so he goes to her room and stands over her bed. He crosses his arms over his chest and waits for a few minutes. Then he saunters to the window and looks out at the view of a brick building. He shakes his head slowly and says quietly, “You, Natalie Boyd, are going to have a much better life at the brownstone.” Natalie hears someone in her room and bolts up in bed. She sees Mike, shrieks, and holds the blankets up to her neck.
“What are you doing here?” she says. Mike turns around and Natalie remembers. “You’re taking me to your house. That’s what you’re doing here,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose. She looks at Mike and they both sigh at the same time. Then Natalie gets out of bed and goes into the bathroom. (Mike goes outside and waits in the car.) When Natalie comes out, she gets dressed and takes her purse and goes to Mike’s car. It’s silent for a moment before Mike starts to drive, and Natalie looks at him.
“How old are you?” she asks finally, frowning at Mike. He yawns as he tells her, “Almost thirty-one,” and Natalie’s eyes widen slightly. She looks out the window and Mike laughs.
“I’m kidding, Nat,” he says as he starts to drive. “I’m nineteen.” Natalie frowns at Mike and runs her fingers through her hair.
A half an hour later, Natalie and Mike arrive at the band’s apartment. Natalie has to look up to see the roof. It’s a brownstone apartment building that stretches up to the sky. She and Mike get out and grab the boxes. When they get inside, the other four band members are asleep on various places. The drummer, Marshall is on the couch, the bassist, Jimmy is on the floor in front of the TV, the electric guitar player, Lewis is on the coffee table, and the piano player, Joshua is at the kitchen table. Natalie raises her eyebrows and sighs, “This should be interesting.” Mike looks at her and she follows him through the apartment. Apparently, her room is all the way at the back. However, she gasps when she reaches the window. There is a beautiful view of the New York Bay, and the water sparkles from the reflection of the sun. The snow has stopped falling and the sun has melted most of the snow on the ground.
“Well,” Mike says, putting the boxes he carried on the full sized bed. “Hope you enjoy your stay.” Then he leaves and Natalie lies on the bed and closes her eyes. She sighs softly and swallows.
A few days later, Natalie is on her way to the Laundromat with not only her laundry, but also Joshua’s, Jimmy’s, and Lewis’. It seemed as though their laundry hadn’t been done in a while. She walks down the street and around the corner, and she runs into Charlie, from O’ Reilly’s. Natalie puts her hand on the old man’s shoulder and she smiles at him.
“Hello, Charlie,” she says, and she squints in the sun. Charlie gives her a smile.
“Well, it’s been a while, Natalie Boyd,” he says. “How’re you doin’ Natalie?” Natalie smiles and Charlie walks with her to the Laundromat.
“Okay,” she says. Charlie looks at her.
“Where are you staying, lass?” he asks after a moment. Natalie scratches her head.
“With a friend,” she says, and she pauses. “Actually, I’m staying at the band’s house, the band from your restaurant.” Charlie nudges her playfully.
“Have you gotten to know Mike?” he says with a grin.
“Mike?” she says, a little shocked. Charlie nods. Natalie looks away from him.
“Charlie, you know I don’t get into that stuff,” she says. Charlie laughs.
“He’s a charmer,” he says with a wink. He gives a wave and turns a corner as Natalie walks into the Laundromat. She shakes her head slowly and goes to do her laundry.
As she waits by the washing machine with a magazine, Natalie feels a tap on her shoulder. She turns and sees Marshall, the drum player from Mike’s band.
“Hey, Natalie,” he says, and Natalie notices he’s Irish. She smiles.
“Hi,” she says. Marshall gives her a handful of quarters.
“Ah, we thought we should give you money for the dryer,” he says. Natalie gives him a small smile and takes the quarters.
“We?”
“The rest of the band and me,” he says. Natalie nods gratefully and glances at Marshall as she switches the laundry over.
“Do you guys even have a name?” she asks. Marshall shrugs.
“We’ve been fighting about it,” he says. Natalie laughs.
“What choices are there?” she asks. “Maybe I could help.” Marshall sighs and leans against the washing machine.
“Well, we have ‘O’ Reilly’, you know, like the restaurant,” he starts. “And… we have ‘Under One’, and ‘Apartment 401’.” Natalie looks at him.
“That last one’s original,” she says sarcastically (Apartment 401 is where they live.) “I personally like it best.” Marshall raises his eyebrows.
“So does Mike,” he says. “He’s the one who picked it out, actually.” Natalie doesn’t know what to say, so she turns back to the laundry and begins folding it.
“Thank you for paying for the dryer,” she says finally, and she leaves.
Getting Attached to Apartment 401
Several days pass and one Friday afternoon, Natalie comes home from eating at McDonald’s. As she walks into the apartment, the lights are out. She flicks the lightswitch on and the boys emerge from various hiding places. Natalie laughs as Mike begins to rap a “Happy Birthday” song he wrote himself. The rest of the band is making the voice box noises and such, and Natalie puts the McDonald’s bag on the counter.
“You guys,” she says. Mike spreads his arms out and the rest of the guys stand beside him. His voice changes to a Frank Sinatra impersonation.
“Happy birthday…” he sings, “To you-ou-ou.” Natalie laughs as he approaches her. She shakes her head slowly and sighs, looking Mike up and down. He’s dressed like a mixture of a gangster and a businessman and his cap is turned to the side.
“Mike,” Natalie says with a small laugh. Mike shakes his head.
“It’s Mikey Mike, yo,” he says. “Wuddup? You gotta see the crib, yo. J-Dawg here-” (he gestures to Joshua with his head) “-decked the place out for your big one seven, girl. One seven, seventeen, dawg!” Mike holds his fist out to Natalie and she bops it with her own fist, trying not to fall from laughter. He takes her hand and tells her to close her eyes. She shuts them tight and he and the band lead Natalie through the apartment. When they stop, Natalie feels a soft breeze blow her hair across her face.
“Open your eyes, Nat,” Mike says, speaking in his normal voice. Natalie opens her eyes and covers her mouth with her hand to keep a squeal in. She blinks back tears and lets out a small, high pitched laugh. Apartment 401 — the band — has decorated the balcony for Natalie’s birthday. There are little paper Chinese lanterns with tea light candles in them, and they’re strung on the clothesline. Everything is altogether beautiful, and Natalie takes a deep breath and hugs everyone.
“It’s beautiful,” she says. Mike puts his arm around her shoulders and looks at her.
“Don’t you wanna see the rest?” he asks. Natalie looks at him.
“You’re kidding,” she says breathlessly. Mike takes her to the picnic table and she sees a big cake decorated with a big ‘17’. Natalie laughs again and wraps Mike in a hug. He puts her at arm’s length and laughs.
“Don’t hug me,” he says with a laugh. “I’m just Mikey Mike, dawg. Marshall’s the one who made the cake.” Natalie looks at Marshall and gives him a hug. It last longer than she expected it would. When she backs away and Jimmy plays the music, the party starts.
It’s past midnight and Natalie is still on the balcony, sitting on the picnic table and fingering a piece of one of the streamers. Mike appears by her side and she sighs.
“Did you have a good party, lass?” he asks in a Scottish accent, then his voice changes to a Sméagol voice. “We did, my precious.” Natalie laughs and looks at him.
“You’re incredible,” she says. “I didn’t know you could do so many voices.” Mike stands in front of Natalie and begins to do some of his voices.
“I can do English,” he says in an English accent. (He goes on like that.) “And Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.” Natalie laughs and Mike chuckles.
“That’s from The Princess Bride, the uh, the best love story ever told.” he says. Natalie laughs and nods. “I can also do Frodo-” he clears his throat, “No, Sam. I can’t recall the taste of strawberries, nor the sound of water, nor the touch of grass. I can also do Sean Connery and Bob Marley.” He impersonates the two, sounding exactly like each of them. Natalie is laughing and Mike gives her a deep bow and he hops back up onto the picnic table. He and Natalie are swinging their legs back and forth like little kids. It’s silent for a moment, and Mike looks out at the lights of the city across the Bay.
“Have you found a job?” he asks quietly. Natalie shakes her head silently. Mike nods.
“You know,” Natalie says, and Mike looks at her. “You haven’t given me a birthday present.” Mike laughs and scratches his head. It’s quiet again, and Mike looks at Natalie. Their eyes linger on one another for a minute, then Mike reaches up slowly and begins stroking Natalie’s hair. Then he scoots closer to her and leans toward her.
“Are you gonna kiss me?” Natalie asks softly as Mike nuzzles her neck.
“Not on your life,” he says with a short laugh. Natalie laughs quietly and Mike touches her cheek softly and fondles her hair. After a minute, Natalie blinks and hops off the picnic table, leaving Mike sitting there. Before she goes inside, she turns and looks at him.
“Thank you for the party,” she says. She goes to her bathroom (she has one and the guys have one) and shuts and locks the door behind her. She looks in the mirror for a minute at her hands, which are fiddling with her ring. Finally she takes the ring off and sets it on the counter. She sighs and turns the bath on, filling it with bubbles and hot water. After putting her clothes in a corner, she steps into the bathtub and sinks in until her chin touches the water.
Early the next morning, there’s a knock on the apartment door. Mike gets staggers out of bed, nearly tripping over Lewis, who slept on the living room floor, on his way to the door. He opens the door and runs his fingers through his hair, yawning. There’s a man, about in his forties or fifties, standing at the door. His dark hair is messy and his eyes are bright, almost frighteningly.
“Hi,” Mike says, furrowing his brow slightly. The man pushes his way past Mike and into the entryway.
“I was told this is where Natalie Boyd lives,” the man says in an accent that reminds Mike of Hugh Grant. Mike frowns now.
“She’s staying here until she finds a job, yeah,” he says, becoming more alert. “Who are you? What do you want with Natalie?” The man starts to the back of the apartment.
“I’m her father,” he says. “I suppose she’s told you some things about me.”
“A few,” Mike says, running to stand in front of the man.
“They’re lies,” Mr. Boyd says. By this time, the rest of the band is awake and they’re standing around the man, ready to defend Mike and Natalie. While Mike, Jimmy, Joshua, and Lewis stall Boyd, Marshall sneaks into Natalie’s room and wakes her up. She gets out of bed.
“What’s wrong?” she whispers. Marshall opens the window.
“Your da is here,” he says quickly. Natalie frowns.
“I thought he was in prison,” she says. Marshall looks at her and raises his eyebrows.
“Apparently not,” he says. He takes Natalie by the arm and helps her out the window onto the fire escape ladder.
“Go to O’Reilly’s,” he tells her. “We’ll come get you when he’s gone.” Natalie nods and Marshall closes the window, heading back to the hallway. Boyd is standing in the middle of the hallway.
“Where is she?” he asks, almost menacingly. Mike steps in front of her door, just to be shoved out of the way by Boyd. Boyd goes in Natalie’s room and looks around. When he sees the room is empty, he turns back around and knocks Mike out. He then defeats the rest of the band and leaves the apartment. Insignificantly hurt, Jimmy and Lewis help Mike to his feet as he regains consciousness. His lip is bleeding and his hair is tousled, but he’s determined. He runs out to the hallway outside the apartment and sees Boyd going down the stairs. Mike, hoping to disable the man temporarily, grabs a football from inside the apartment door and throws it down at Boyd. The man falls down the stairs and Mike and the rest of the band go down to him. Mike shudders. The man is dead. Mike blinks a few times and looks at Jimmy, Lewis, and Joshua.
“Take him out to the alley,” he says quietly. “Nothing concerning us happened.” They nodded and Mike and Marshall continued on to O’Reilly’s.
Natalie waited anxiously in the back office with Charlie at the club. She stands by the window with her chin in her hands. Charlie sighs.
“They’ll take care of him, lassie,” he says. Natalie nods slowly and suddenly the door opens and Marshall and Mike come in. Natalie gasps softly at their injuries; Mike’s bruised head and bloody lip, and Marshall’s black eye. Charlie shakes his head slowly and goes to the kitchen.
“Guys, I’m sorry,” Natalie says, going to Mike and Marshall. “If I knew he would get out of jail-”
“He won’t bother you again,” Mike interrupts, holding his hand up. Natalie frowns and Mike takes her face in his hands. “I promise. He won’t bother you again.” Natalie swallows and Charlie comes back with two ice packs for Mike and Marshall. Marshall takes his, but Mike refuses, saying it won’t make a difference; he’ll still have a swollen lip. Natalie can’t help but laugh softly and Charlie and Marshall shake their heads in amusement.
Later that night, Natalie is sitting on her bed, staring out the window. Mike comes in and sits beside her.
“You killed him, didn’t you?” Natalie says without looking at Mike. He frowns.
“I hit him with a football and he fell down the stairs,” he says in a low voice. “The football only knocked him out. The stairs are cement.” Natalie nods slowly. She looks at her lap.
“I found a job,” she says. Mike looks at her and tries to look disappointed.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Staging apartments,” she says. “I get my own little apartment for doing the job.” Mike looks at her.
“When will you be leaving?” he asks. Natalie blinks.
“Monday,” she says. (It’s Saturday.) It’s quiet for moment, except for the soft breeze that’s blowing in the open window. Natalie rests her head on Mike’s shoulder and he rests his cheek on her head.
Monday, Natalie has packed her things and Lewis and Joshua are helping her unload her things at her new apartment. Mike doesn’t come to say good-bye, but Marshall and Jimmy meet Natalie and the other two at O’Reilly’s. Natalie knows this will be her last time in O’Reilly’s. Charlie has to close the place down for financial reasons. Natalie also knows that even though she has a good job and her own apartment, she won’t be happy living alone.
Four (and a half) Years Later
Late summer
Twenty-one year old Natalie sits in her Accord in traffic. She rests her head in one hand and taps the steering wheel with the other. She notices she’s right outside the building that used to be O’Reilly’s. The windows are boarded up and the walls are covered in graffiti. She sighs and can’t help but think of Apartment 401. She hasn’t seen Mike in four and a half years, and she wonders how he is. She wonders about the rest of the band, too, but Mike more so. The traffic finally clears up. Or so Natalie thinks. The car in front of her slams on the brakes. Natalie tries to stop, but fails, and her car crashes into the bumper of the minivan in front of her. The pick-up truck behind her slams into her car, and Natalie screams. She gets out of her car and as she sees her car, she tries not to yell or curse.
“Mamma mia,” is all she could manage without offending someone. The other two drivers get out, both of them being old women. One is a nice grandma type, and one is a motorcycle type. Natalie personally enjoys the “grandma’s” reaction better than the tougher looking one.
Natalie sits in a car shop, waiting for the report on her car. As she watches the news on the little TV, one of the repairmen comes out holding an oily rag. Natalie gasps. The repairman is Marshall. He’s aged slightly, it seems, but Natalie realizes it’s because he’s a little bit unshaven and his hair’s a little longer.
“Marshall,” she says, smiling. Marshall realizes it’s Natalie and they hug one another.
“Hey,” Marshall says, laughing. “Um, your car. We’re gonna need it for a couple weeks. We can get you a rental.” Natalie nods and holds Marshall at arm’s length.
“How are you?” she asks. Marshall raises his eyebrows.
“You’re pretty much looking at it,” he says. “What about you? You look older. Twenty-one, right?”
Natalie nods.
“I’m okay,” she says. “You’re twenty-five. Geez, Marshall, has it really been that long?” Marshall laughs and nods.
“My break is in an hour,” he says. “You wanna come over for dinner tonight? The missus is cooking homemade pizza. Yum.” Natalie laughs and playfully hits his arm.
“The missus?” she says. Marshall shows her his wedding ring and she laughs and shakes her head slowly. Marshall pulls out his wallet and shows Natalie a picture of two little girls.
“My angels,” he says. “Lilly and Naomi. Twins, two and a half years old, and beautiful.” Natalie smiles.
“They are,” she says. She shakes her head again.
“I can’t believe how long it’s been,” she says. Marshall gives her a pat on the back and goes back to work.
Natalie approaches the door to Marshall’s house. He lives in a suburb, in a nice house. She rings the doorbell and a pretty young woman opens the door. She has brown hair with a touch of red and green eyes. She’s taller than Natalie, and slender.
“Hi,” she says with a smile. “Are you Natalie?”
“That’s me,” Natalie replies.
“I’m Katie,” she says, “Marshall’s wife. Come in.” Natalie does so and Katie takes Natalie’s jacket and hangs it on a coat hanger.
“Marshall’s told me a lot about you,” Katie says, still smiling. Natalie smiles and Lilly and Naomi run to their mother and wrap their arms around her legs. Natalie laughs.
“He’s told me about you, too,” she says. Katie leads Natalie to the dining room, where the table is set beautifully.
“How’s Apartment 401?” Natalie asks during dinner. Marshall looks at her and smiles sadly.
“We all went our separate ways shortly after you left,” he says. “Jimmy and Lewis moved to Nashville to try and become a famous duo. Joshua’s an artist now. He paints murals on walls and stuff. And here I am living the life.” Natalie laughs softly and Naomi starts to fight with Lilly.
“Girls,” Katie says. They don’t stop and Lilly pinches Naomi and makes her cry. Katie smiles quickly at Marshall and Natalie and she takes the girls away.
“How’s Mike?” Natalie asks after a minute. Marshall looks at her sadly, and almost nostalgically, as if he hadn’t heard the name in years.
“Not good,” he says. Natalie looks at him. “He was married last year and he just got a divorce. Been trying to find a job since he was kicked out.”
“What happened?” Natalie asks, trying not to sound too concerned. Marshall shrugs one shoulder and takes a bite of pizza.
“She cheated on him,” he says. “She’s pregnant with the other guy’s baby. She broke Mike’s heart and he’s gone downhill since. I don’t think he’s ever even had a good cry about it. Thinks he’s too tough to cry.”
“Where is he living now?” Natalie asks. Marshall blinks.
“Apartment 401,” he says. “He decided to stay there until they kick him out. Poor guy. I’ve tried to help him, but he doesn’t want anything. Personally, I think he’s stubborn-”
Natalie gets up before he finishes. Marshall follows her to the door and she walks briskly to her rental car.
“Where’re you going, Nat?” he calls. Natalie answers without looking back.
“To give Mike a pep talk,” she replies. Marshall throws his hands in the air.
“Let the sleeping dogs lie, Natalie,” he says. Natalie shakes her head and drives away.
Natalie drives to the brownstone apartment building and tries to keep herself from crying from a simple fit of nostalgia. She runs up the stairs to the apartment door two at a time. When she comes to the door, she goes in without knocking. Nobody is in the living room or the kitchen. As Natalie walks through the apartment, she looks at the pictures hanging on the wall of Apartment 401, doing all their crazy stuff. There’s one of Mike doing his “crazy safari guy” impersonation, with his hair messed up and sticking up in the air and his face eccentric looking, and there’s one from before Natalie was around when the band went camping and Mike didn’t shave for the trip. One picture catches her eye. It’s of the guys from Apartment 401 and herself, gathered around her seventeenth birthday cake. Natalie stands there staring at it for a minute. Suddenly, she hears footsteps. She turns and sees Mike come out of his room. His hair isn’t high-lighted anymore; it’s just brown and straight and in his eyes a little. He’s wearing a wrinkled white undershirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants. His eyes are tired and his face is stubbly.
“Natalie,” he says. She looks at him, thinking, You look terrible, but of course she doesn’t say that.
“I saw Marshall,” she says. “He told me about Apartment 401. It kind of ticks me off that after I left, all of you deteriorated. Apartment 401 was like a brotherhood, with one sister-” Natalie laughs “-and after the sister left, the fellowship was broken. Like Lord of the Rings.” Natalie laughs again. “I think Marshall is the only one with a little bit of sense. He’s doing good, with a wife and two beautiful girls. Here you are, waiting to be kicked out of your own home. What kind of a life is that?” Mike’s nostrils are flaring and his chin is quivering. Natalie knows he’s holding back tears, and she completely understands why. She wraps him in a hug and he cries softly into her shoulder.
“Mike, things have to get worse before they get better,” she says. “It’s how life works. I know.”
She rubs his back gently like a mother would do for her son. She shushes him gently and runs her fingers through his hair. He backs away from her after a minute and takes a deep breath. Natalie looks at the pictures on the wall.
“Look at these photographs,” she says. “Don’t they make you regret the breaking of the brotherhood? Look at you with your shambolic hair and crazy smile.” Mike chuckles and squeezes the bridge of his nose, wiping any leftover tears away. Then he looks at Natalie.
“They make me regret something,” he says. Natalie wraps her arm around his shoulders and they look at the rest of the pictures.
Conclusion
Mike didn’t get evicted, and in fact, after he got a job, he kept the apartment. Apartment 401, the band, got back together. Marshall, however, stayed with his family, leaving the band without a drum player. That changed when Marshall taught Natalie and she became part of Apartment 401. Natalie and Mike dated for a few more years, then ended up getting married, of course. Apartment 401 ended up famous, and they toured America in their little passenger van (which they called Forum) with a storage trailer behind. The fellowship was reunited and prospered for the rest of its life.
THE END
