Today my neighbour, Ms Irwin, decided to declare her love to me for the umpteenth time and I have no idea what to do with it as she won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Ms Irwin is a nice lady, but about 15 years older than I am and from a totally different planet. She’s the apple and I’m not even a fruit. We have very little in common, but she fails to see it that way. For the past years she’s been trying to convince me of the so-called fact that we are birds of a feather and should flock together. If it were up to her we’d do more than just flocking.
I always call her Ms Irwin to keep some sort of distance and she keeps asking me to call her Elaine. Today, when I got home from the shop and was just about to turn the key to my door, she came running at me with her cake. Well, running might be a big word; she was just fast compared to her every day pace/ Which more or less meant she was walking at an average walking speed but moving her one free arm about very fast to give the impression she was actually running at an incredible speed while balancing a plate with a cake on it in her other hand.
Today she came round with a homemade cake.
‘Felix! Felix!’ And it’s always as if she is singing my name. I could not deny the fact she was calling me, because the whole street was looking in my general direction.
‘Felix! My love, I have got something for you! Wait up!’
I looked at the key in the lock and my hand on it as if it was their fault I was not inside of the house in time. Without her noticing it I let out a little sigh before I turned round with the biggest and best of smiles.
‘Ms Irwin, how nice to see you.’ After many years of training I have learnt to use some standard phrases people use in small talk. This was lesson 1,’ When meeting someone, tell them how nice it is to see them again.’
‘Please, Felix, call me Elaine.’ And she kind of hid her head behind her shoulder when she said this. I copied her move and said in more or less the same sing song voice,
‘Only if you call me Mr Bent.’
She let out some girlish giggles, waved her hand at me in some sort of strange way and I still have no idea why someone standing so close to me would want to wave at me. Especially when she wasn’t even really leaving. She told me about the cake, then, again, she invited herself in in her own special way. It’s no use trying to lock her out; she’s too fast. She manages to get into the house every single time and at least once a week for over the passed 4 years. I don’t even have to bother making tea anymore, because she does that herself. Sometimes I think she knows the way around the house better than I do. And I live here for crying out loud.
We had tea and ate some of the cake. She asked me if I liked the cake and I said it was delicious. It was; I didn’t even have to lie about it, because it was a good cake. Then she started telling me that it was because of all the love she had put into making and baking it especially for me and she went on about has she has had the hots for me ever since I moved here. That was when my socially awkwardness kicked in and I guess I must have started pulling weird faces as she thought I was about to have a heart attack. I told her a piece of cake got stuck in my throat. I think I got away with it.
Another thing she always does is that she tries to kiss me when I show her the door. I don’t like being kissed (not even on the cheeks). She is much shorter than I am – and I am not really that tall – and when I open the door for her, she stands on her toes, puts her arms around my neck, tries to pull down my head to give me one on the cheek. Sometimes she gets lucky and catches me off guard a little thus manages to pull me down far enough to give me one. I know it’s supposed to be sweet, but I am just not used to this kind of affection and I don’t want to give her the wrong impression.
It’s getting late and it’s time to sleep. Thanks for reading and see me tomorrow.