A cold gust of wind rushed into the hallway of the foyer as Martin and Jane scrambled to close the door while their hands were full of groceries. Jane had to give it an extra push to make sure it stayed closed. Encumbered as they were, both were glad their apartment was on the first floor. While Jane fumbled with her keys, Martin noticed the yellow sticky note on the floor. Assuming it was another “reminder” from the landlord not to track dirt in, he placed it onto the stack of mail in the bag he was holding.

Just then, another blast of wind came down the hall as the front door opened and their neighbor entered. The fake palms shuddered and Jane could swear she heard a piece of plaster falling further down the hall. She loosened the deadbolt and gave Martin the usual look, so he put his shoulder into the door to unstick it.

They lived in the building for five years but still didn’t know the name of the man across the hall. He was a brooding man of average height, dark hair, and an aura that discouraged conversation. Martin nodded at him deferentially, then he hustled his wife into their apartment.

“That guy really gives me the creeps”, Martin said.

“If you would just fix the front door so it didn’t stick, we wouldn’t have to spend as much time in that hall and risk running into him”, Jane said.

Swallowing a reply, Martin put the bags on the counter and removed his jacket before plunking himself down on his recliner. Without looking up from what she was doing in the kitchen, Jane said, “Socks. Jacket. Bedroom.”

Martin scowled but did as he was told. He returned to his chair and began going through the mail.

“Did you see this?”, he said.

“I saw the sticky note. What does it say?”

“I saw what you did and I called the police.”

“What the…”, said Jane, as she slammed the refrigerator door causing several decorative magnets to clatter to the floor.

Martin got up to bring the note for her to see. As she re-read it, he made himself a plate from the takeout food laid out on the counter.

“Does this make sense to you?”, she said.

“No”, he said, stepping over the fallen magnets as he opened the refrigerator to get a drink.

Jane was still puzzling over the note as he returned to his recliner with his plate and drink. Reaching down to retrieve the magnets, she saw a spot on the floor.

“Did you spill orange juice on the floor again?”

“Oh yeah. Sorry.”

Am I his mother? Jane thought. He goes to the refrigerator, conveniently misses the spot on the floor, gets a drink, and doesn’t offer to get one for me. She thought about saying something to him but thought better of it.

Martin sat mindlessly pushing around the food on his plate. What the hell could someone have seen me do? It’s not like anyone can see me stealing Wi-Fi and pirating movies. I guess someone could have a sniffer, but why leave a note?

While Martin wracked his brain, Jane was having similar thoughts. It was only a couple of eye liner pens and lip gloss. And it was Target, not Bloomingdale’s! I’ve never seen anyone from the building when I shop.

“I can’t think of anything”, Martin announced. “Whoever it is must be mistaken”,

Jane studied his face too carefully. Then, to cover for her stare, said, “Weren’t you supposed to get the landlord to fix that falling patch of wallpaper”.

Martin was tired of being responsible for every little thing that she noticed was wrong with their apartment. He glanced over at the overflowing trash can in the kitchen that was full of styrofoam containers. She didn’t tell me that should couldn’t cook before we were married. What else is she hiding from me? She said she went to the store yesterday, but she came home with nothing.

Silence used to bother Jane, but she had become numb to Martin’s unresponsiveness. She thought. It took him almost 45 minutes to find a parking space yesterday but the car was only half a block away this morning.

They both ate in silence and Jane cleared the plates away and stuffed the residue into the already full bin. Martin thought about saying something but resigned himself to the fact that he was doomed to struggle taking out overflowing trash for the rest of his life.

Jane pushed aside a pile of papers and magazines on the coffee table to make room for her glass. She looked around the disheveled apartment and despaired. They had no dining table and ate all their meals in front of the television. There were no pictures on the walls. They had no bookcases so books were still in the cardboard boxes from when they moved in with five years ago and there wasn’t even a throw rug on the bare floor. Why are we still living in this dump? Martin told me his promotion was a slam-dunk two years ago, but we’re still living hand to mouth. And now this note. What has he done?

Martin absentmindedly flicked on the TV and surfed the guide for something to watch. He thought. I know she’s upset about how bad this place is. I did everything I could to get the promotion, but those managers are out to get me. Besides, I’m putting extra money aside as a surprise for a down payment. Things are bad enough, but now what has Jane done to cause someone to call the police?

Jane pulled out her laptop, propped it on her knees, and started one of her internet games. Still stewing, her thoughts returned to the note, and then it hit her.

“It’s the Wi-Fi that you’re stealing. That’s why someone is going to call the cops”.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Martin hissed.

“They know you’re pirating movies and now…”

“It’s not like you don’t watch them too. You’re as guilty as…”

“I never asked you to do it. Besides, what else is there to do around here? We never go out to do anything…”

“That’s because you don’t cook and we spend all our free money on takeout.”

This dialog wasn’t novel, but the level of animosity was at a new high. With each retort, they searched their memory for the last incident that wounded their ego. Jane spoke, and Martin didn’t listen. Martin spoke louder, and Jane shut him out. It reached a crescendo when they both knew the neighbors could hear their voices. Embarrassed and breathless, they went quiet.

Martin reached for his glass and the pile on the coffee table shifted knocking several to the floor along with Jane’s purse. Out tumbled the cosmetics she had stolen; all with their price tags still affixed.

“What have you been up to”, Martin said. “You told me, and your therapist, that it was a one-time thing and would never happen again. Don’t you think this is what the note is about?”

Though on the verge of tears, Jane stiffened her resolve.

“What am I supposed to do?. After the bills are paid, I have nothing left…”

At this point, Martin wasn’t even close to listening to Jane. All he could think about was how miserable he was in his job that had no future and didn’t provide enough income to cover even modest comforts like furniture or even an occasional movie. Jane’s words stung him and, even though he knew that her therapist had said the shoplifting was a response to stress from their marriage, he just wanted her to stop talking.

“Look!”, he said raising his voice. “If you would just…”

BOOM!

The sound came from the hallway followed by the shouts of many people. Martin and Jane went to the door and opened it a crack. There were at least ten uniformed police officers, one holding a battering ram.

“Please stay in your apartment”, one of them said.

They remained inside, but watched the scene with their door partially ajar. Their unnamed neighbor was brought out in handcuffs and led down the hallway.

“Excuse me”, said Jane. “What is he being arrested for?”

“That’s under investigation”, said the cop. “Can you tell me anything about him?”

Jane smiled sheepishly and said, “No. He only moved in six months ago. We don’t even know his name.”

He handed her a card with his contact information and asked them to call if they remembered anything unusual.

The chaos in the hallway took all the steam out of their argument and they were both emotionally spent. As Jane gave the officer’s card to Martin, he grasped her hand. Looking up, their eyes met in the same soul-searching way they did when they were first dating. The evening of squabbling seemed to fade into the background and they both regretted the words said in anger and the private thoughts of deceit. A deceit of each other and of themselves.

“This”, Jane said, motioning around the room. “This wasn’t what I expected when we got married. I wanted the nice things I had in my parent’s home. I know it isn’t realistic, but still.”

“I know”, Martin said. “And I’m sorry but it wasn’t what I wanted either. I didn’t think I had to tell you how disappointed I was. Do you think I like being passed over for promotion?”

“Maybe”, said Jane. “Finding that note on the floor was a clue.”

“What do you mean?”

“It only took a small gust of wind to rip it off another door and blow it onto our doorstep. For whatever reason, maybe it was reused so it didn’t stick like it was supposed to and look at the trouble it caused us. Maybe it’s a sign that what we have might be awful but if we use the right glue or tape, we can hold things together.”

Martin was now truly engaged for the first time in a long time. He pondered Jane’s words and the weight of their life for the last five years settled uneasily on his shoulders.

Martin cocked his head, sighed deeply, and said, “I kept hoping that you would change and expecting that would make everything better. I thought that harsh words were better left unsaid. Now, I see that silence only feeds a void and gives it power. Life isn’t always deliriously happy, right?”

Jane mouthed “right” and she knew that things could be better now, even in a world filled with random sticky notes. It would be just the two of them in this absurd apartment where the silence of words unspoken was very different from the silence of listening.