She offered me tea and toast when I arrived. But as I sipped the tea, I had to stop myself from grimacing. The bitterness of it caught me in the back of my jaw. I shuddered, but she looked on at me, still smiling. She didn’t notice. Old people were always like that, weren’t they? Ignoring social discomforts in order to keep things smooth and easy. The young didn’t feel the need to do that so much anymore. We all knew our faults.
It was awkward as I sat in her living room, my knees together, and teacup in hand. She stared at me, unblinkingly as if she was afraid I’d disappear. I’d accepted her invitation as any good neighbor should. I was always doing things that were the right thing even though I gritted my teeth and resented the other person for it.
And so here I was, sitting on the faded couch of my much older and much-disliked neighbor, due to her incessant invitations. Our neighbors must have been fed up with her antics. If they would ever speak to me at all.
Sandy gushed into her long-awaited speech, the words tumbling out of her mouth without reprieve. “I’m so glad you’re here. There aren’t many people to talk to. And many people do not wish to hear things.” She returned to her wide smile.
Even though I had moved in only recently, I had seen her often, watching me as she knelt in the garden pulling up weeds. She would wave heartily, and I would wave back hesitatingly.
People our age don’t wave like that anymore. It looks too desperate, and we can’t appear desperate if we want to have anyone.
She was talking, but I couldn’t seem to focus. I was here as a favor. I had been requested to come. She had sent me an invitation, and because she was such a pitiable creature in her soft slippers and thick eyeglasses, I accepted her. I commended myself on my neighborly compassion.
I nodded along to her words, rubbing the sides of the teacup with my thumb, thinking about a time when I could leave. When it would be polite to leave.
Why would she wish to speak to me anyway? Did she think I had nothing to occupy my time? Did she think I would appreciate being asked to her home as if she was anything special?
“…You seem always alone, dear, and I thought we might have tea and discuss why that might be.”
My focus suddenly snapped back to her face. She was smiling now, but the slight tilt of her head indicated that it was she who pitied me. Ha! But I was the one who was on the other side, not vilified by those who surrounded me, not thought to be going mad or left to live alone in silent disgrace. I had things to do. I was going places.
I thought about the apartment where I lived next door, mostly bare of furniture and photographs and that I hadn’t heard from David for over six months.
I bit my lip, attempting to stem the flow of sudden anger. “Why would you wish to discuss what is my business? I came here as a favor to you!”
Sandy chuckled, placing a knobby, beringed hand on her chest. “But, I have everything I need. The neighbors were concerned for you. I extended my invitation. I thought you might like to talk.”
I stood, red-faced and moved the teacup to the table, even though I’d have rather smashed it to the floor and spilled tea over her old, white carpet. “I am the one giving you the compassion,” I yelled, “As I do not need an old, faded lady with bad tea to give me a sense of belonging!”
Sandy jolted as I moved around the sofa and accidentally banged into her glass coffee table. I winced, and a scream brewed in my throat, but I walked determinedly towards the door. I placed a hand on the doorknob but turned around again to spew another long list of retorts.
But Sandy simply said, “People do not want to hear things, do they, love?” She tilted her head to the side even further. I wanted to vomit.
With a huff, I opened the door and swung it shut behind me, hard. I walked to my apartment and shut that door hard too, hoping she could feel its reverberations. I nearly slipped upon a letter on the floor, its white envelope now stained with the dirt of my worn shoe. I fumbled to open it and was disappointed to see only a few words.
“You weren’t worth it, Ari. You don’t even think you’re worth it, do you? Get a life.”
-David
I let the paper fall to the countertop and laid open neatly beside Sandy’s invitation. I sat with my head in my fists and read them side by side. One was harsh and cold, and one was bubbling over with warmth and kindness. Get a life.
“Come and call anytime for tea, my dear. You would be most welcome.”
I laid my hands on them both and cried. Both of them were truth-tellers, in a way. I had pushed away the hand that came in to save me, thinking that the author of the cold message knew all. I didn’t need anyone. I didn’t need her, especially not with her head tilt and her large, disconcerting, all-knowing smile.
I heard Sandy shuffle on the other side of my wall and felt a sudden clench in my chest. She was there. And even though I’d screamed and yelled and left her house in a rush, knowing for certain that I would not receive another invitation, I moved to the wall and laid my back against it. Even though she tried to embarrass me, at least she was simply there.
