Friday, October 9, 2015

Something special for you! Chapter 8


It was already dark when I was on my way back home from grocery shopping. I was walking down the street when I thought I noticed the surfer I have been observing the last days. He was walking towards me. Flip flops, shorts and a plaid shirt, and I again stared at him too long.

In that moment when I changed my view something hit me from behind and I fell. The pain shot through my whole body and then slowly dissolved. My groceries were all over the place. I couldn`t tell what just happened when somebody asked me if everything was okay. When I looked up I looked into the man`s eyes. That surfer`s eyes, that I have been watching since three weeks. I wasn`t able to give him a better respond than a smile. This was so embarrassing. I tried to pack all my groceries back into the bags as fast as I could. I took everything I could grab, stood up and made my way home. I walked as fast as I could so embarrassed was I. When I walked into my garden I noticed that the man came after me carrying my second bag. O my god, I completely forgot that second bag and now he brought me that bag. I opened the back door and put the bag on the kitchen counter. I left the door open, shortly after he came in. I smiled at him embarrassed. I am sure that I blushed. Balu came into the kitchen and I couldn`t leave it. I had to greet him. He had probably missed me, at least I hope he did. It was strange. I was so proud that he had learned to stay home alone, but at the same time I was hoping that he had missed me.

“Your doorlock is broken, that can be pretty dangerous in this area of the city,” he notices. He had both of his hands in his pockets, his shoulders raised. He looked at me as if he was expecting something. Balu ran around me one more time before he went over to our guest. I was nervous, the woman in the shelter had mentioned that he had a problem with man, but this one here he seemed to like. Maybe I should ask him if he would like to have something to drink. I mean he helped me and Balu liked him so he was probably a good guy. Or how was that? Dogs are having the sixth sense? And right before I thought it really through it came out of my mouth. I asked him if he wanted to have something to drink. And right in the moment of asking I remembered that the only thing I had to offer was water and tea. When that came to my mind I started to stutter again. I was lucky as he smiled at me and thanked yes to a glass of water. When I handed him the glass of water I noticed his well kept hands. His clothes also made me think that he wasn`t from here. When I noticed that I had stared at him too long again I blushed and smiled at him.

“If you have any tools around, I could fix that right away”, he offered shortly after. I wasn`t confident enough to look at him again and to say something. It was so unusual and I was so insecure. It is outside the world I am used to.

I turned around and left the kitchen. I walked through the living room and went up the stairs. I wasn`t sure but I thought I had seen a tool box in one of the closets upstairs. And when I opened the first, I noticed that I wasn`t mistaken. But I haven`t imagined the box as so heavy. I wasn`t able to lift it with one hand, barely with too. With slow and heavy steps I made my way back to the kitchen. When he saw me coming he nearly rushed towards me. He probably saw that I had trouble carrying it and so I put it down in the moment he wanted to take it from me. He was standing right in front of me. I noticed him staring at me. But he wasn`t staring at me directly. His gaze was on my scar. The scar between my breasts. The scar that I have had since the accident. The scar that I will have for the rest of my life and that will remind me of the accident for the rest of my life. That will remind me of how my parents died, and how I nearly died. I tried to pull up my shirt fast, to cover that scar. He probably noticed that it made me feel uncomfortable as he turned around to fix the door.

“Balu, let`s go into the living room”, I said, so that Balu would come with me and that the Surfer who`s name I still don`t know would know where to find me. In case that he needed me.

In the living room I started to paint the little table white, while Balu was sleeping in his bed. Rolled in like a puppy, but I knew exactly that he was watching out for me. I got lost in my thoughts. 

Thoughts about how my life went so far. These thoughts were disturbed by the thoughts I had on the surfer. He had something that made me nervous. But in a good way. Having him in the house calmed me down. Althoug it was strange. I mean there was a foreign man in my house. But somehow he seemed to understood because he hasn`t ask about the scar. He had let me be. And somehow he seems to get along with me not talking much. And he was really good looking. Not mentioning his surferbody. It isn`t a secret that surfers are well trained. No he had amazing blue eyes, wonderful wrinkles from laughing, an unbelievable smile and really great hair, and…

Right before I could finish my thoughts exactly this surfer was standing in my living room and asked me if he could help me with anything else.

I got so ripped out of my thoughts that my brain couldn`t function fast enough. I didn`t know if I stared at him. All I know was I couldn`t say a word, so I just pretended being busy with painting the table.

Again he said nothing. He turned around and went back into the kitchen. After a little while I heared the back door and through the window of the hall I could see him leaving.

Now I was alone again. I was glad he didn`t say something because I really forgot how to communicate with people, or I never was good at it. I really doubt that I was ever good at it. Not counting the smalltalk that I had learned through my childhood. But somehow I was sad too that he was gone. I stood up and went into the kitchen where I found a little note.

If you ever need any help or just someone to talk with, you can find me at the kiosk down the beach or four houses further down the road.
Scott.

So Scott was his name.

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