“Hello,” I said, because what else?
The man furrowed his brows, seemingly more confused than I was.
“Um, hello,” he said.
I stared at him without another word, and so did he. I wasn’t going to ask how he was—we are not cashier and customer. His eyes blended with the night, as did his hair, which even matched the night sky. The shock might’ve made me imagine things, but I could almost see a tint of blue. The darkest shade of midnight blue.
“I’m here for the room,” he said calmly.
It was then that I noticed the pine green suitcase beside him and an intricate tattoo of an anatomical heart on the back of his hand.
“What room?” I am renting rooms, but the agency hadn’t reached out yet. It’s a bit of a coincidence that someone in the same neighbourhood was renting a room, I thought. “You must have the wrong house. Maybe it’s the one next door?” I said.
He took a deep inhale but cut it short from turning into a sigh. The breath was effortlessly regular again. He shoved a hand in his pocket, brought out a phone and soon showed me on a dimly lit screen the confirmation email from the same agency I’d been using. And the address was identical. From house number to postal code.
“I was at the wrong house once before. Is this still not it?” he said, no edge in his voice. This man seemed more patient than he looked. His tone held no sarcasm—he genuinely questioned his sense of direction.
“Is there a problem?” I heard from behind. All this time, I forgot Hael was standing in the back. He, too, was calm.
“I’m not sure,” I replied. “I need to go check something.” With Hael at the door, I could safely go. Maybe the universe sent him early for that very purpose.
“Look, I have to wake up early tomorrow and I’d really like a few hours before that,” the man outside said, massaging his temples. He did look pretty tired. His eyes sank while his eyelids lifted by sheer will. Still, who could blame me for being wary of a stranger?
“I have to check my emails first,” I said, without a care for his irritation. There are times when you can afford sympathy, and times when your safety comes first.
“Please do,” he replied, eyes closed.
I turned to Hael and could only offer him a sheepish smile. I’m sure he didn’t want to deal with this or me in particular. He, too, had a new responsibility. One he wasn’t bound to by technicalities, but rather by emotions. I’m not sure what my mom told him—whatever it was, I wish he could ignore it. We’re both too old to play family.
My phone was on the couch; a paused Initiation displayed on the screen when I unlocked it. And on the coffee table, the ice cream tub I forgot to put back in the freezer. I wouldn’t call it an ice cream tub anymore. It’s a milkshake tub, at best. I was already nostalgic for my freedom, looking at my night’s footprints.
I scrolled past the emails I had received from the agency, and oddly enough, there were none on the first page. That was strange because I was spammed with their advertisements; with a minimum of one a day and a maximum of infinite.
The void they left in my inbox made it click. I might not have marked their emails as spam—though I was tempted—but the email provider must have automatically. My spam folder was full of their recent ads. And within pestering non-deals for their premium features, one mail caught my eye.
It read: A tenant is on the way! They treated the man like a package. The email read no different from the shipment notification I received for my laptop stand.
I had more say in the laptop stand than this new tenant. With no confirmation of my part, they went ahead with their selection. Don’t we have to sign a lease? Shouldn’t I have reviewed his file? I remember signing some documents, which were too long to spend the time reading, and the line spacing was so short it strained my eyes. But it was still an odd way to go about things as an agency.
I was caught in a terrible situation. A man stood outside in the cold, convinced that there’s a warm room and bed waiting for him. Then there’s me, already disturbed by the early arrival of my soon-to-be stepbrother, and on top of that, a new tenant, who I’d heard nothing about until he showed up at my doorstep.
Why did he have to be a man? Both of them. Aside from my dad, I’ve never lived with a man. I thought living with strangers would be uncomfortable, but I never considered they’d be men as well. All hope relied on the last tenant. I’d complain less if there were another woman. Less, but I wouldn’t stop. That woman is still a stranger—assuming there is another woman.
I marched back to the front door, my mind somehow made up. The dilemma loomed above my head, but a quick glance at the door and I knew there was no time to think. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they sure were talking. Correction, Hael was talking. The man with the blank—which turned out to be tired—eyes appeared to be tolerating him.
I reached the door, and the spotlight returned to me, uncomfortably so. The man looked at me, expectant, helpless like a stray cat.
“I did receive an email,” I bit my lip. “It was in my spam folder with the rest of the marketing mail they kept sending me. That doesn’t change the fact they sent you without my confirmation.” I took a deep breath. “But it’s late and cold, so you should come in. We’ll talk more tomorrow and see what happened.”
According to the news, it was the coldest summer night to have occurred here since 1987. I don’t typically believe in the weather forecast, knowing how fickle the weather is in Canada, but that claim seems pretty credible. And despite the agency’s rashness, they were known for their thorough background checks. I wasn’t welcoming a criminal, at least.
He exhaled in relief, bringing his head down. I turned to Hael, and he shrugged.
The man looked back up, his gaze softer, “Thank you. I’m Egon, by the way.” His voice softened, too. If voices were scents, his would be an earthy cologne.
***
We parted in front of his bedroom door after a few words such as “Good night” and “Yep, we’ll talk tomorrow.” For that time, Hael followed me like a shadow.
“You can knock on my door at any time. Due to jet lag, it’s unlikely I’ll sleep easy tonight anyway,” he said.
It was reassuring, and I appreciated the thought, but it wasn’t necessary. There would be no knocking in the middle of the night. Yes, Egon’s room is right next to mine, but I have a lock on my door. The sole bright idea of my father.
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine,” I needed to be clear with him from the get go. I won’t be relying on him. I have no interest in getting close to anyone in this house. Not in these circumstances. These are people I can only tolerate at best, for the sake of paying bills.
“Even if you think you’re fine, don’t hesitate. Whatever it is. A suspicion, or even nerves. Something doesn’t have to happen for you to knock at my door,” he said, softly at first until he turned solemn. He meant it.
I almost allowed myself to feel the warmth of his words. I guess that when my mom said he was understanding and kind, she wasn’t making a generic claim from a biased perspective. His kindness makes it hard to push away or put a wall against. But I, of all people, can. It’s harder to resist something you’ve already experienced and easier when curiosity’s all you’ve ever had for it.
I nod out of courtesy.
“Good night,” I then say before heading to my room.
I heard him reply, “Good night,” and I closed my door. The last I saw of him, he looked content, as if I’d agreed to rely on him. But I fear that even my good night wish was bogus.
***
The brief shadow from a passing cloud allowed me to make out the time on my phone. 11 AM. The odd time you aren’t sure can still be called morning. Would you call a pre-chorus a verse? Maybe, maybe not.
I sat on a patch of grass like a coward. A coward with a glass of iced coffee from her favourite coffee truck. Also, the only one she knows.
On a fine day, two summers ago, the burnt orange truck parked itself near the park; surrounded by a few neighbourhoods. Since then, foot traffic increased and bench availability decreased. Hence why I’m on the grass with a colony of ants. I’m lucky they’re no fans of black coffee.
The truck operates solely in the summer and leaves as soon as the ground is full of…leaves. The owner, like me, despises the cold, not to mention he has another job. He’s a teacher. Need I say more?
While I have a coffee machine at home, I’ll mention that so do all these people around me. The world has yet to find a cure for laziness.
At least there’s greenery. And isn’t it nice to work in greenery? Except I didn’t bring my laptop or a manuscript. Just a tall glass from the house. There’s no rule against bringing house cups outside, and it sure minimizes waste too.
I’d bathed in sunlight for long enough, borderline too much. But again, I’m a coward. A coward who was about to burn if she didn’t give up soon. I was resisting going back home. Home to people I didn’t know.
Egon wasn’t home. He left a note on the table saying he’ll be back by 3 PM after he’s done with work. As for Hael, I haven’t seen him or heard from him. There’s no knowing if he was asleep or out. Still, I walked on eggshells the minute I left my room. In my own house. I crossed the hallway so carefully, yet with such a hurry. All that not to bump into him. He doesn’t make me uncomfortable as a person, but I am uncomfortable with the fact he’s a stranger living in my house.
My house… The word scatters in my head through grey clouds, rumbles of thunder, and ceaseless rain. There’s a taut silence, for thoughts gave up trying to make sense of the situation. It simply is what it is. With that, I chose to go home. There was no escaping my reality.
The moment I opened the front door, a blast of deliciously sweet air rushed at me like a rogue wave. The scent was a stark change from the earthy scent of grass. My sense of smell was compromised. It was an invasion.