"He wants the toilet," Mimi said. "Up the stairs, second door on the
right. Jiggle the handle after you flush."
The bathroom was crowded with too many towels and too many
toothbrushes. The sink was powdered with blusher and marked with
lipstick and mascara residue. It made Alan feel at home. He liked young
people. Liked their energy, their resentment, and their
enthusiasm. Didn't like their guitar-playing at three a.m.; but he'd
sort that out soon enough.
He washed his hands and carefully rinsed the long curly hairs from the
bar before replacing it in its dish, then returned to the living room.
"Abel," Mimi said, "sorry if the guitar kept you up last night."
"No sweat," Alan said. "It must be hard to find time to practice when
you work nights."
"Exactly," Natalie said. "Exactly right! Krishna always practices when
he comes back from work. He blows off some steam so he can get to
bed. We just all learned to sleep through it."
"Well," Alan said, "to be honest, I'm hoping I won't have to learn to do
that. But I think that maybe I have a solution we can both live with."
"What's that?" Mimi said, jutting her chin forward.
"It's easy, really. I can put up a resilient channel and a baffle along
that wall there, soundproofing. I'll paint it over white and you won't
even notice the difference. Shouldn't take me more than a week.
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