Chapter 20
For a good chunk of my junior high school years, my mother and I lived next door to a couple prone to very loud, very frequent disputes. They would start about the time I was getting ready for bed and would stretch on until the wee hours of the morning.
Honestly, I don't know what the point of it was. Either you get along, or you don't, and if you don't, then you shouldn’t be sharing a tiny box of an apartment.
That might be a bit simplistic. But I was thirteen. Lots of things were more black and white then.
At any rate, the only defense I had against this nightly invasion of chaos was my Walkman. It didn't even play CDs; it played cassettes, which were really hard to come by. I listened to the same three The Cure albums over and over until that loud couple finally moved out
