Brian was in high spirits, Sunday morning, as he spoke with Helen over Skype and made coffee. The fresh smell of the ocean breeze carried through the open window.
“Well, there’s this beautiful woman next door …” Brian pursed his lips to keep from laughing. And she dances naked to this weird song almost every night.
“Ask her out,” Helen said whilst trying to feed Gracie. Each time Helen brought the spoon closer to Gracie’s mouth, she’d turn her head. Helen was patient, waited until Gracie looked at the image on the laptop, then slipped the pureed food in. Gracie grimaced and spat the food onto her bib. “Gracie, darling, you’ve got to eat.”
“What are you feeding her?”
“Peas. She normally likes them, but lately she’s been finicky. Anyway, have you asked your neighbour out yet or what?”
Brian turned the volume down on his laptop. He didn’t want Her to hear. “I’ve barely even seen her. She’s pretty. Works out a lot too.”
“A bodybuilder, then? Sure hope she’s not on steroids. Ugh, the acne they get, I’ve seen pictures. You certainly don’t want a woman with larger muscles than you.”
“No, not a bodybuilder. I think she’s a dancer.”
“Ooh, ballet?”
“No, no, nothing like that. I don’t know …”
“This is why you need to talk to her. She’d probably like the company.”
Brian shook his head. “I’m not very good at introducing myself like that.”
Gracie squealed at the camera, delighting in the Skype image. Helen shovelled another spoonful of green mush into her mouth. This time, Gracie accepted the spoon, holding down the peas. “She’s not going to do all the work for you. Women still like to be approached, as long as you’re not a creep about it.”
Thanks for reminding me. “I’ll think of something I need to borrow … I dunno, maybe some milk or eggs?”
“Hmm, not exactly original, but at least it’ll give you a chance to talk to her.”
“Well, it’s a lot better than just knocking on her door. ‘Hello, I’m Brian, would you like to go out?’”
“I didn’t mean like that, silly.” Helen sniggered. “Matter of fact, anything that involves you knocking on doors is best avoided. Remember that Valentine’s Day you did knock-a-door run at Georgina Crawford’s house and they called the bomb squad?”
Brian reddened. “I was twelve years old! And how was I supposed to know her father had been getting death threats?”
“Who leaves a brown cardboard box at someone’s front door as a Valentine’s gift? No bow or ribbon, no flowers.”
“I’d spent all my pocket money on the chocolates inside the box!”
“You didn’t even draw a heart.”
Gracie tried to pull the spoon from Helen’s hand. “Gracie, no.” Without warning, his niece erupted into tears, wailing long and loud.
“Well, you’ve done it now.” Brian scratched his beard. What if Her wasn’t into beards?
Helen frowned. “Oh dear, sounds like somebody’s ready for a nap. Oh, hey, when do you start your job?”
“Orientation’s in four weeks.”
“Why such a wait?”
Brian sipped his coffee, now lukewarm. “Well, it’s kind of complicated and I don’t want to bore you with the details, but with the new and old jobs being in different locations and departments, they have separate operating structures. Truth be told, the parent company’s about the only thing they do have in common. I actually had to resign from the old position. Normally it’s two weeks’ notice, but cos I was relocating, they said I didn’t have to work my notice. Advised against it, in fact. Said it’d give me a chance to settle into the new area.”
Gracie was sniffling, resting her head on Helen’s shoulder. “Such a shame you’re all alone out there. You know you can visit anytime. Might do you some good to get out of the apartment.”
Brian smiled. “Thanks, but I’ve got plenty to keep me occupied here.”
“Well then, get over your shyness and talk to the girl next door. You’ve got nothing to lose.”
“I’ll try.”
Helen looked stern, narrowing her eyes. “There is no try, only do.”
“All right. Yoda you are not.”
They laughed and said their goodbyes.
Brian reached for the remote and opened Netflix, knowing he’d spend almost as much time looking for something to watch as he would have spent watching if he’d picked something at random and pressed play straight away. But that was part of the allure, part of the times: Instagram, Snapchat, reality television, the want-it-now generation. Always looking for something better, never content.
We have everything at our fingertips, yet we’re all so lonely. Brian shuddered at the thought. Considered Helen’s parting advice. She was right, of course. When it came to women, the shyness that had crippled Brian when he was younger had only thickened with age. The strange thing was that most of his relationships were long. He’d dated Cynthia for three years and had genuinely believed he’d marry her. They were friends now, but when he’d suspected her of cheating, she hadn’t denied it. The most hurtful part, she’d been with another man for almost a year right under his nose. He’d believed her lies, and she’d broken his heart. Cheating was a symptom, not the cause of a broken relationship, he understood that now and harboured no ill will towards Cynthia.
Brian’s problem wasn’t just shyness. It was an unwillingness to open up to women. To have conversations with depth. He’d freeze, hands clammy, and start stuttering as if he was back in high school. Since Cynthia there’d been nothing but easy women looking for a good time. And he’d been an easy man. Quick moments of electric passion, brief glimpses of happiness and what could be. Helen would have said his standards were too high, that he was looking for perfection. The truth was, he didn’t know what he was looking for, doubted he’d know if it bumped right into him.
Brian was about to head to bed when he heard the music coming from next door.
Right on time.
He turned out all the lights and went to the wardrobe. Pushing the towels aside and detaching the bar. He closed the wardrobe, making it as dark as possible. Trapping himself in with Her. If he leant his shoulder against the wall, he could peer through the gap without pulling any muscles in his neck. Candlelight flickered through the opening.
Strange that she had never noticed the hole in her own apartment. Yet, sometimes he swore she could see him watching her, that she enjoyed it, but that was part of the fantasy. Or was it?
When he looked into her room, there was no one there. Brian’s heart beat faster, panicked. The candles were lit, but this time there was also a small lamp, illuminated in the corner, affording him a better view of the room. He was looking into her bedroom.
Her bedroom.
Her sanctuary.
He exhaled, taking it all in—a bed in the corner, a small nightstand to the left, next to it a wardrobe against the wall. Boxes lay on the floor, beside the wardrobe. She hasn’t even finished unpacking. Movement to the left caught Brian’s eye and he watched Her enter the room, wearing a silk robe. It looked like a kimono, only shorter, and completely black with no designs or embroidering.
She turned to the side, and for the first time, Brian saw her face. The light wasn’t strong enough to make out much detail, but from what he could see, she appeared to be of Asian descent. She picked up a small remote from the edge of the bed and suddenly the music was much louder. Trance-like rhythm, almost tribal. Turning to face him, staring straight ahead as though looking into his eyes, she untied the robe and let it fall to the floor. The candlelight flickered shadows across her body like tongues, licking and teasing her.
Her.
Brian watched, but he did not touch.