The fiction story

Every Monday: The Diary of the Espresso Woman. Part 9.

I had a fight with my boyfriend. Not a pillow fight, not a cat fight. One of those standard fights between a man and a woman where I feel bad after it’s over (after I hung up the phone) and I have no idea what he is feeling.

I could call him back or send him a message but I just wish he’d do that. I’ve been waiting for five minutes now… I guess he’s already doing something else. I can’t imagine him sitting furiously at the window and waiting for me to call.

I mean, what’s wrong with me? What is happening to me? I get sad and lonely and I turned my back-up husband into gay…. No, not that. He turned out to be gay. Not my fault. But either way it was not a very successful marriage proposal and what was I thinking after all?!

And don’t even get me started on the job hunt! It has led me nowhere. Absolutely nowhere.

Half a year ago I had a normal job and I was not planning to get married. (Of course I was not planning on being unemployed either.) And then I just fell in love and the rest of it came out…. I’m wanting to say “all wrong”… Maybe it’s not so bad. I am in love. That’s good. Although it seems to me that being in love has made me stupid, vulnerable and uncool.

I wish I could do something that instantly made me feel better. Instead I stare out of the window. As if the answer to my questions could just fly in through it.

Suddenly the downstairs neighbour comes out to his balcony. I want to withdraw from the window but he has already noticed me. He smiles a big friendly smile and makes a gesture with his hand which I think means that he wants me to open my window. Oh well, I might just as well.

“Are you looking for something?” he asks.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Did you drop something on my balcony?”

Aah – he’s being funny! I told you this being in love has made me a little thick in the head.

“Yep, a hundred dollar bill.” See – I can still joke.

That friendly smile again. “Have you lived here for a long time?”

“A while.”

“I moved in a month ago. It’s a nice building. Good-looking neighbours.”

Was that a joke or something else? I totally blush and don’t know what to say. But he doesn’t seem to expect an answer and he goes on telling about himself like he hadn’t said anything unusual. Maybe I heard wrong…

So it turns out that he had taken a year off to travel the world a bit. That explains the beard, I guess. He had thought that it would help him figure out what to do with his life. But he didn’t say if he had in fact figured it out. He said that he had travelled alone so I assume he lives alone. I could be wrong of course.

He didn’t ask me downstairs for coffee. He talked to me like I was an old friend. He seemed really cool and relaxed. Maybe that’s who he is or maybe that’s something a year of travelling alone does to you. He’s much more talkative than my boyfriend.

Hmm… I don’t even know why I’m comparing him to my boyfriend! Anyway. And his name is Tom. A very normal, unpretentious name. Just like he is.

I wish I had lived his life instead. I wouldn’t have the courage to travel the world alone. But talking to him does not make me regret my life. It makes my heart warm. At least now I know that there is another human being down there and I am not alone.

And I have nothing to be ashamed of, I have done things in my life. I was pretty brave, too – I left my job. For love. How romantic and cool is that? (OK, technically I didn’t leave my job for love but it’s my story and it’s mine to tell.)

The downstairs neighbour didn’t even ask me anything about myself. I could have told him a couple of things but the damn phone rang at the wrong moment again and he didn’t wait me up.

Well, at least it was a good call! One company asked me for a second interview! I have almost forgotten the fight with my boyfriend. I once again think about calling him but I decide that I can do it tomorrow.

The world seems a friendlier place already.

To be continued next Monday.

 

 

 

 

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