When my time comes around
Lay me gently in the cold dark earth
No grave can hold my body down
I'll crawl home to her
A huge crash wakes you. It's followed by a scream, which send you up and running down the steps of your building. Because this was not just any scream, but a familiar one you remember from nights snuggled on the couch watching horror movies. You franticly knock on the door and shout, "Are you okay?" before looking down and realizing that you are only in a white vest top and boxers. You consider running back upstairs, but you hear a couple hops and the click of the lock before you can. The door slowly opens as Emily tries to brace herself on one leg between the door and the frame. Seeing her again, although now completely expected, feels just as surreal.
She looks sheepishly up at you as she sputters, "I'm so sorry! I really hope I didn't wake you! It's just that I went to carry my box of pans into the kitchen to make an omelet, and the bottom gave out…" Her explanation trails off due to her attention now directed at your current state of undress. You know this by the way she's trying (and failing) to keep her eyes from roaming across your body. She purses her lips together and you can see the red spreading from her neck and chest.
You try to shift her attention by asking, "What happened to your foot?"
She looks down in embarrassment and mumbles, "It helped cushion the fall?"
"Jesus. Are you alright?" You don't bother waiting for an answer before you've invited yourself in and escorted her to the couch by the arm. You're fetching a bag of peas from the freezer, not yet processing the fact that you've touched her for the first time in years.
You'd like to believe that this friendliness is part your neighborly duty, or, at the very least, a cognitive impairment resulting from a rush of adrenaline and caffeine deficiency. But you also know that this—caring for Emily—always came naturally to you. Whether she cut her finger while cooking dinner or stubbed her toe on the corner table, you were the one who patched her up. So it shouldn't surprise you that, after 5 years without her, the familiar wails elicit the same knee-jerk reaction. But it does surprise you, and you can tell from her expression that it has surprised her too. Which leaves you both in her sitting room in an uncomfortable silence.
"Thanks… you know, for checking on me." She looks small and embarrassed, hunched over with peas on her foot. You anxiously chew at your bottom lip trying to figure out a way to simultaneously reply and end the conversation.
You look at her, and you can tell she's just as nervous as you. "Yeah… well… it's nothing," you shrug.
"I'd offer to put the kettle on, but— "she nods towards her foot.
"Thanks, but I should get going anyway."
"Right." You see a ghost of disappointment behind her nod. "Well, thanks again. For…you know…stopping by."
"Figured that's what neighbors are for, yeah?" You say with a half-smile.
"Yeah. Right." It feels a bit shit regarding her simply as a neighbor, as if her only relation to you is someone who would pick up your mail while you're out on holiday. But to acknowledge anything else feels like the start of much larger conversation, one that you don't think you can manage without yet having a cup of coffee. You give her one last smile before walking back towards her door.
"Naomi—" You close your eyes, because the soft way she says your name feels all too reminiscent of mornings spent together in bed. You stop where you are and turn around, looking at her expectantly.
"It's nice seeing you again." She says with a shy smile.
"Emily—"your ears start ringing, and you can't quite pin down a single emotion, so you've naturally settle on annoyed. She looks hurt, which softens you immediately. "Sorry, it's all just too strange, isn't it?"
She gives you a challenging look. "Naomi. I haven't seen you in 5 years, and I now live in the apartment below you. I don't think strange even begins to cover it." You both laugh, and the air becomes a bit more relaxed.
"Yeah. " You stare at each other, and for a moment you want to give in. You want to kiss her forehead, offer to make a full English breakfast, and spend the afternoon tangled in sheets. But that's an old life. One that she left behind. And that realization is what stops you completely. "I really should get going, though."
"Yeah, of course. Sorry for keeping you." You walk back towards the door.
"By the way—" You stop as you are turning the door handle, wondering if you're ever going to leave this flat. "I'm having a housewarming party tomorrow night–8pm. You should stop by. Bring Effy, too." She looks at you expectantly with big doe eyes, and you wonder if she still knows that look is all you need to be swayed.
"Yeah, sure." Her smug grin confirms what you had suspected.
"Great. See you tomorrow." Her silky rasp makes anything sound like a proposition, and you struggle to not show just how much of an effect it has on you.
"Yeah. See you." You walk back to your flat, rest your head against your closed door and take a deep breath. Christ, what did I just agree to? You head to your room and grab the cell from your nightstand.
What are you doing tomorrow night? E invited us to her housewarming.
By your fucked up logic, refusing to call her by her name somehow makes the situation somewhat more manageable. Your phone chimes, and of course Effy is just as non-verbal via text as she is in person.
?
You start chewing on your bottom lip, trying to figure out how to adequately respond when you're trying to figure it out yourself. So you avoid answering her question altogether.
Are you coming or not?
You tap your fingers, waiting for her to either take the piss or further interrogate you. With her, it can go either way.
Get the wine. Wouldn't want to miss this.