The night’s aren’t quiet anymore.

4:00

I fly out of bed before my eyes even seem to have opened. The pounding on my bedroom door sounds like a jackhammer or a car backfiring in my living room. I’m shocked it doesn’t come off the hinges, breaking inward and down.

“Son of a BITCH,” I scream, at first unsure of what to do, the violence on the other side of the door something I’m not sure I want to confront, and I shrink back on the floor against the wall. But anger overwhelms me and I book towards the door, wrenching it open in mid-bang.

No one there.

“KYLE, I’m going to KILL you.”

I checked against the door. No mechanisms that I noticed. No prank devices. I turned on the light for the living room. Nothing. I checked the kitchen. Nothing there either. I raced to the front door, yanked on it, almost falling over when it didn’t come open. Dead bolted. How he had a key or time to lock it behind him was beyond me. Unless he used the back door.

But first I slipped around the front corner of my apartment. No one lurking in the parking lot. No one along the front of the building. No shrubbery to duck behind. I went back into the apartment and checked the sliding glass door. Also locked, as I’d left it. This one he could not have unlocked with a key. There was no mechanism on the outside for it. He wasn’t coming and going through the back door.

“I’m done with this shit.”

Still fuming, I left my apartment, slamming the door behind me, walking to Kyle’s building next door to mine. So be it. If he wants to screw with me, I’ll give him a piece of my mind. It crossed my mind for a maybe a second that he didn’t have anything to do with this, and that this would sure be awkward if I was wrong, but then the thought was gone in the face of the days mounting evidence and I was pounding on the door to beat Hell, making the noise on my bedroom door sound like a child.

I muttered under my breath because I didn’t want to scream. I was pissed but not pissed enough to make a scene before the neighbors.

“Get out here you brat, quit pretending like you have to wake up and do your makeup first.”

As if he’d heard me, the deadbolt finally snapped into place and the door cracked open. It was pitch black inside the door, and I could barely see Kyle looking out from around the edge of the door, obviously braced against whoever the nut was outside.

“I’m done with your shit, Kyle. You’re lucky I didn’t call the police.”

“Katie?” He opened the door wider, the street lamps from the parking lot lighting his look of confusion.

“Don’t play this fucking game with me. We both know what’s up so you can drop the charade. I’m tired of it.”

He looked uncomfortable now. Not just exasperated or confused. It made me remember how little we actually knew each other. “Katie, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just relax.”

“Don’t tell me to just relax! Don’t keep dragging me through this just so you can conduct your little research project. You wanted a reaction? You got one, now it’s time to drop it and stop.”

“The fuck are you talking about.”

“Stop! Okay, just stop! Quit the charade, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“No, Kate. I don’t.”

“STOP DAMMIT!”

“If you don’t relax so that we can talk about this like normal people, I’m closing this door.”

“You want me to relax after all of th – “

He slammed the door in front of me. I felt the rage rise in my chest, and I moved to resume my attack on the door again, but it deflated almost as soon as it grew. Confusion abound. Nothing was solved. I didn’t feel any better.

I knocked again, this time slower, with a tired arm. This time Kyle opened the door fully and turned on the light. He was wearing shorts and tugging a t-shirt over his head. I’d never seen him without a shirt. He was scrawny but had the natural muscle of someone who runs a lot. I realized how little I had on. Just the short workout shorts I wore to bed and a skimpy t-shirt. I tried to push past my discomfort by jumping into the discussion again.

But he held up a hand and then beckoned me inside. Reluctantly, I followed. His apartment was spotless. His roommate having left, obviously he was the only one living there and must have been a neat freak. Or not around much. Both seemed equally possible.

“Would you like some tea, or coffee or something?”

“What? No,” I spluttered. “I don’t want coffee.”

“I’m making tea. Something tells me this is going to be a long chat.”

“Or a short one.”

He almost smiled but instead rolled his eyes as he went into his kitchen. The sound of running water into a kettle, the stove clicking, clicking, clicking, clicking, finally sparking the gas into flame. The sound of him setting down two mugs from the cabinet. His cockiness angered me, the presumption that I’d want something. Did this kid think he was god?

He came back out and sat down in a recliner. I leaned against the wall, refusing to sit.

“So? What did I do?”

“If you’re going to keep up the farce, I’m walking out.”

“Well I could pretend like I know what you’re talking about but I don’t think it would be the valuable conversation you’re hoping for.”

“You’re so full of shit, Kyle.”

He smiled now, and that confused me.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. This has just reached the point of absurdity that becomes funny is all.”

Now he was laughing at me? “Look, if you’re gonna play it like that, treat me like some little rat, whatever. Pick somebody else.”

He looked confused. “I like you. I prefer to think of it as more pushing enrichment. Prompting conversation or thinking outside of the box.”

“Oh is that how you think of it?”

“Well. It’s interaction.”

“Interaction? You screw with me and that’s our interaction?”

“Screw with you, screw with you… Are you talking about our relationship?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I’m not screwing… I ask open ended questions, socratic questioning I guess. I thought it was insightful. Are we talking about that?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Wait! Katie, do you mean the phone calls?”

And just like that I could have smacked him. Right across the face, leaving a welt so fat and red it would have stung for weeks.

“Well that’s as good a starting point as any!”

“I wasn’t screwing with you. I was checking up on you – I know you’re lonely so I thought I’d make sure you were still settling in okay.”

“And you felt the need to check in twenty times in a night?”

“What?”

For a second I lost my confidence. I’d played right into that which I was least confident. That the phone calls weren’t just some kind of glitch. I struggled to regain myself. “Never mind about those, fine, whatever, they weren’t you. But it doesn’t give you the clear on everything. You still called me!”

“Was that so wrong?”

“The phone call? Yes! Yes it was wrong! You asshat!”

He almost laughed. “Asshat?”

“Not funny.”

“Kinda funny.”

“Please let’s not get off topic. This isn’t funny.”

He waved it away and put on his serious face. “Look if you don’t want me to call you anymore, I won’t. I didn’t think it was a problem.”

“Great. How about you stop torturing me at all hours of the night too?”

Academy Award performance time.

“Excuse me?”

“You know just what I’m talking about.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t.”

“How long are we going to PLAY THIS GAME?”

He recoiled against the chair at my outburst. The teapot was starting to squeal from the kitchen but he made no move to get it. “Katie,” he said. “I like you. I think you’re cool, and I think you need a friend and I’m happy to fill those shoes. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I’m sorry if I’ve somehow upset you. But if you want resolution here, you’re going to have to talk to me.”

“Fuck you,” I said and spun out of the room, down his short hallway, and back out into the night air.

If that was the way he wanted to play it, so be it. Manipulation obviously knows no bounds. I’m just the girl next door, temporary, running away just to run away again when things get bad. I’m just sport to him, the philosophy major, everyone else just a lost brain running through impressions and situations, morality out the window, ethics irrelevant. Never again.

I walked back into my place, slammed the door again for good major, and flopped onto my bed with the lights off. I wasn’t anywhere near sleep, but I wanted to avoid, get away from the situation. I wanted a drink or four. Something to lighten my head. I jammed on my headphones and didn’t hear if he rang, if he knocked, if he sat in gleeful silence in his perfect little living room sipping his tea. I was done.

I hoped he got the point, saw how upset I was, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that if he really was this manipulative, such an outburst from me would only perpetuate the situation, egg him on and inspire further acts of annoyance in the night, that I haven’t heard the last of him.