Moorpark Palms Letters - 5. Chapter 5

Mid-1997

Update

Yesterday afternoon, I got back from riding 15 miles on my bike and took a long shower to decompress. As I finally turned off the water, I heard yelling – full-out hollering – and I figured, “Cyndi and Tim.” Then I realized it wasn’t Tim’s voice, and I figured “Cyndi and Justin” (Lindsay’s current musician/boyfriend who irritates Cyndi). Then I heard something about “Get off my balcony!” Now Cyndi and Tim and Lindsay (and by default Justin) all live on the ground floor. They don’t have a balcony. So I quickly combed my still-soaking hair, pulled on a shirt and jeans, skipped shoes and socks, and went to see what was happening.
On the balcony, Birgit and Rob, Claire and her mother, and Quinn and Meg were all screaming at each other. I mouthed to Meg, “What’s happening,” and she calmly waved me away, though seeming disgusted. Meanwhile, Justin and Cyndi were standing separate but peacefully in their doorways, looking completely innocent, as if to say, “See, it isn’t us for a change.” Then Korki – standing in her own doorway – gestured me over.
“If you need a witness,” she said, “the woman (Claire) hit the guy (Quinn) first.”
“They were hitting each other?” I asked, incredulously – as the howling soared on.
“I want the police!” Claire bellowed, and Meg calmly said she was calling them on her cell phone.
That assured – and maybe with me (who everyone seems to trust) standing by – Claire and her mother swept off to Claire’s apartment while everyone else retreated.
“What happened?” I soon asked Quinn and Meg, then Rob and Birgit, then Claire and her mother.
“Someone took my pillows out of the drier,” Claire explained, now under control . “They put them on the counter, still wet. They stole my cycle!”
“The pillows had been drying for two hours,” Quinn insisted. “They were just sitting there – not spinning, still damp, with no one around. Meg ‘n’ I carefully put them on the counter ‘cause we needed to dry our own stuff. Everyone does that, you know that. Everyone’s always fair, sharing the machines.” (That is our etiquette.) “Then she (Claire) went ballistic.”
“I did go a little nuts,” Claire admitted. “It’s the pressure from moving, and I just got my cat’s ashes back from the vet.” (It seems she’s been waiting for her aged cat to die before she moved to Hawaii to live near her Mom.) “And you know I’m a little manic-depressive.”
What’s being left out in this calm reiteration is Claire’s banging on Isabelle’s door – because Cyndi mistakenly told Claire that Isabelle probably needed the drier so had moved the pillows to start with. (Isabelle, fortunately, wasn’t home, or we would have had an international incident, with her again screeching about being persecuted for being an immigrant). Also defensively deleted was Rob’s yelling at Claire for making so much noise in the courtyard when he was trying to watch the Dodgers. And Birgit’s insulting Claire when Claire told Rob to “Shut up and mind your own business,” (expletives sidestepped). And Quinn insulting Claire ‘cause she still wouldn’t pipe down when he was trying to watch the Dodgers with Rob. Then Quinn inexplicably insulting Claire’s mother, who was just trying to smooth things over. (Quinn has tattoos, remember. They stimulate hormones.) That’s when Claire gently shoved Quinn, and he (almost) slapped her back. (“I pulled my punch. Honest to God, I did.”)
Whoa.
Still, by the time the police arrived, everyone had the chance to back off, and Quinn had put on a long-sleeved shirt. (With his arms covered, as I’ve mentioned, he looks like a choir boy.) The police – two squad cars full; were they expecting a riot? – mainly laughed, probably relieved that they didn’t have to break up a donnybrook. Afterward, I asked Rob, Birgit, Meg, and Quinn (who were now all watching the Dodgers together) “Is every apartment building in LA like this?”
“No,” they seemed to agree. “Isn’t ours great?”