Chapter Text
Sal’s first impression of the apartment buildings was a number, not a word. “1970,” to be precise. The dark pressboard paneling, the avocado green shag carpets worn nearly bare down the center, the general smell of mothballs and patchouli that reminded Sal of his father’s VERY seventies powder blue suit that came out for weddings and funerals....ugh. It was a blast from a past that Sal was grateful not to have experienced the first time around, and he was glad for the thousandth time that day that his prosthetic hid his facial expression. Unfortunately for him, however, Henry Fisher could read Sal like an open book. He rolled his eyes.
“It’s not that bad Sal,” he said, propelling his son forward encouragingly, past the empty lobby desk and mailboxes overflowing with junk mail. “If you wanted to live somewhere fancy you should have started applying for colleges before acceptance letters were already mailed out.” The unspoken "or two years ago" hung between them uncomfortably like yet another ghost.
Sal took a deep breath and managed to avoid sighing. His dad was right, he probably should have applied for schools, for apartments, apartments, for jobs, but if he was being honest the idea of thinking about his nebulous Future™ caused him way too much anxiety to face it head on. He'd picked up a job at a local diner after graduation and put off applications again...and again. He knew it was getting ridiculous, and his therapist had pointed out the strain it was putting on his relationship with Henry, who had the utmost faith in Sal and his ability to build a future for himself. So an Easter weekend spent scrambling to apply to local colleges and the last week of summer looking for ANY single dorm or apartment near campus had led him here: Addison Apartments at Nockfell University. “Do you remember what room I’m supposed to be in, Dad?” Sal asked innocently. He knew the answer, but it seemed like a good idea to change the subject before his dad started talking about responsibility, and when he was Sal’s age, and mom-
“The key tag says 402,” Henry said, handing Sal the key. “Let’s get this stuff up to your room so I can hit the road before the rain starts.” The two of them looked out through the lobby doors at the heavy clouds lingering threateningly in the distance. As Sal lugged his trunk with Gizmo’s cat carrier strapped to the top and his father dragged two suitcases, they trudged together to the elevator where a pretty, middle aged woman in navy blue coveralls was mopping a spot on the floor aggressively.
“Sal Fisher?” she asked, smiling. Her eyes were kind, Sal thought, but tired. She stuck out a hand and Sal shook.
“That’s me,” he said awkwardly.
“It’s nice to meet you Sal, I’m Lisa,” she said warmly, and Sal believed that she really meant that. “I do the maintenance and management around here for Mr Addison, so if you need anything you can find my apartment downstairs.” She looked momentarily uncomfortable. “I should warn you. There’s been an um. An incident, you could say, in your neighbor’s apartment. Please don’t let it concern you, it will be taken care of soon.”
Henry looked at her quizzically. “An incident?” he repeated, and Lisa nodded, not offering any clarification. Henry looked to Sal, who shrugged and pushed the elevator button. Whatever “incident” had happened next door, it couldn’t be as bad as the things Sal had witnessed as a child. And generally speaking, the less he knew about unpleasant things, the better he’d sleep at night. The elevator doors opened and Sal and his father stepped inside. Just before the doors closed, Lisa caught them.
“It’s not good weather to be out about,” she said. “Why don’t you come on downstairs and join my family for dinner? I have a son about your age I think you’d get along great. We’re having pizza!” Sal hesitated. He hated eating in front of people. Taking off his mask in front of strangers wasn’t optimal, and being a picky eater didn’t help. Lisa didn’t wait for an answer. She simply said, “See you at 6!” and let the door close behind them.
“What an odd woman,” Henry mused, almost to himself. Sal agreed, but as the ancient elevator rattled upward he found himself looking forward to company...and pizza.
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The apartment consisted of a living room with a cracked leather couch, an island with barstools separating it from a small kitchen, a bathroom with an ancient tub and cracked mirror, and a concerningly empty bedroom. “I thought this place was furnished,” Sal’s father said, sounding concerned. “Are you sure you don’t want to come home tonight and move in the weekend before your classes start?”
Sal was not sure, not at all. But he was also entirely too stubborn to do anything else. “Don’t worry Dad,” he said easily, “I’ll ask Lisa about it when I go downstairs for dinner. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. You should head out, I wouldn’t want you to be on the road too late.”
The men hugged, a bit awkwardly. “I’m proud of you Sal,” Henry told him, and Sal tried not to look too uncomfortable.
“Thanks Dad. I love you. I’ll see you soon.” He saw his father to the apartment door, and it was then he noticed that the door to his left was ribboned off with what appeared to be an entire roll of police tape...and a dark, sticky substance was leaking from under the door.