my downstairs neighbor has been … er… macking on me.
i’d tell you not to laugh, but i’m chuckling myself. it’s actually sweet. when i was moving in, he made a point of coming out to introduce himself and offer to carry things up the stairs. bigtime new york accent, i swear, you could cut it with a knife.
his name is Tom. he has nice eyes. he’s that odd floppy-clumsy that women know as interested to the point of self-consciousness.
i admit, i’ve been somewhat non-plussed by it. so much so that i’ve tended towards avoiding him.
he was cleaning out the dumpster when i got home. he does that. that and personally plants flowers and such in the walkways here. a real green thumb. i’ve seen him puttering out there on the weekends.
anyway… he leaned down to say hello as i sat collecting my things to get out of the truck just now… as soon as i cleared the door, talking a mile a minute… standing far enough out to avoid seeming threatening, but with his back to the building… indication of wish to communicate.
so ok. it costs nothing to be friendly. and i have noticed he doesn’t do a lot… thoughts of my time alone in georgia brought a familiar ache of something approximating kinship. compassion is a fairly constant companion lately.
he asks me how my day was. how do i like my job? did i do something different with my hair? (he noticed.) looking for response. i admit, i blushed. it has been a while since anyone has been eager to hear me talk, or interested in my day. or pretty much anything else.
he tells me about a homeless woman with two kids that he’s trying to collect clothing for… i tell him i have some to donate. he smiles. he has a nice smile.
he tells me about the local discovery of a new market for meats. starts like a squirrel, “oh.. oh. wait. wait right there a minute!” and takes off into his apartment. i’m bemused. did he leave the oven on? was the phone ringing?
he returns with a flyer. hands it to me like a little boy proudly delivering the grail. i look at it. it is the flyer for the market. he’s right. they have some amazing prices. “there. that’s for you.” i look up, surprised… he’s grinning, “yah, i thought about you and figured you being new and all…” trailing off and actually shuffling his feet.
“oh! hey…” another twitchy start and he’s grinning like he’s remembered an ace, “as a matter of fact, i got a whole chicken from them today. it’s in the oven right now… are you hungry?”
now mind you, he invited me in for pizza two weeks ago, when i was moving in… and he invited me again last week as i was returning from the grocrey store. i don’t really know why i have turned him down. gun shy, i suppose. i’ve been walking wounded for a while now… i’m pondering this and i guess i have a distant look on my face, he stutters slightly and then…
“oh hey, i need to check on that chicken anyway… wanna see? i’m telling ya, this guy, he’s got a good business. come on…lemme show ya” and he trundles off into his place, leaving the door open.
so ok… there i am, in his kitchen. he grins as he flourishes mittens and makes a small production of extracting the roasting pan from the oven. lifting the lid, turning to me with a boyish grin, “Tah-daaah!”
he’s right. it’s a huge chicken. and it smelled wonderful. i laughed. he blushed, “you’re welcome to have dinner if you wanna…” a pause and then, looking at the counter, “of course, i don’t want to impose or nothin’…” trailing off and refusing to look at me….
“sure, Tom. i’d enjoy it. let me feed my cats and take care of something online and…” checking my watch, “… say an hour?”
“sure… sure!” He’s putting the roasting pan back in the oven and stays hunkered down looking into the oven. it’s cute, because i know he’s doing it so i don’t see the huge grin on his face. problem is, i hear it. the little noises made by his mouth give it away.
i pretend i don’t, and instead change the subject, “i appreciate the invitations, Tom. and i’m sorry for being so distant. i guess i’m not really used to actually interacting with my neighbors.”
he laughs, “you kiddin’ me? i’m from Longk Ay-lan.” he makes it sound like another country, that accent. heh. “we don’t lock our doors, people are in and out, it’s a real neighborhood, ya know?” he shakes his head as he walks me to the door, “people ’round here… they can be strange birds.”
i turn to say goodbye for the moment before going upstairs, “thank you, Tom. i’ll see you in about an hour…”
as i’m walking away, he’s heading back inside… and i don’t think he knows i can hear him muttering to himself, “and she’s thanking ME…”
i have to admit, it was hard not to giggle at that.
so… dinner in about oh… 45 minutes. roast chicken and a Longk Ay-lan-dah. i’ll be packing up the clothes i’ve lost weight out of and donating them to the woman he spoke of… and when i get paid, i think i’ll be visiting that market, too.