What Did You Say, Mate?

Chapter Two: My life, Sorry

Lisa

"I'm home!" I called to no one.

My work bag fell from my grip and onto the stained ugly taupe colored carpet. The bag contained nearly nothing but an extra work shirt, a couple of snacks and my locker keys. 

The keys resisted from leaving the doorknob, but with a good yank they were removed and thrown on the counter. 

The light was flicked on and the dull bulb always seemed to be on the verge of going out, but it never did. 

I moved forward, farther into the apartment, passing a tiny kitchen and into a living room that could barely hold the old, ripped, plaid couch and the desk and the little table with the TV. The walls were an off white color but I didn't mind much. The neighbors weren't loud and the rent wasn't much.

My own apartment. 

I'd just graduated, but I'd graduated early. At seventeen, I was happy with my life. I had a nice paying job from ten to five, Monday through Friday at the nearest Pet Daycare as an assistant manager. I'd gotten the position when I did a few good things and managed to stay longer than any of the other employees. However, I had to work holidays, no matter what day it was, and I was always the one called in to cover someone. I didn't mind. I liked my job. And I loved to help out. I had my own apartment and my parents were halfway across New York.

I was free, and no one could stop me. This was my life. No one gets a say in it. No way.

No parents, no boyfriend, and I had more of a friend than a boss. 

I was happy I was free, but a little lonely as well. Though, a night out with a couple of good friends made me feel better. Plus a couple of online friends on some games made me smile as well.

I would be fine on my own.

With a tired yawn, I flopped down on my itchy couch that I'd gotten used to. I'd gotten it from one of my mom's "friends" who smoked and had cats. It took weeks to get the smell out but the fibers were stiff and poked in places, but it wasn't anything an old towel or blanket couldn't fix. 

I flicked on the cable TV that was not too large, but I wasn't complaining. I'd gotten the two by one foot television for five dollars at the Salvation Army, and it worked wonderfully. The remote's channel up button didn't work, but the guide and arrow buttons worked just fine.

I felt my eyelids droop but I didn't fight sleep. 

Giving in to sleep, I leaned back against the couch and turned the channel to a cartoon. Hey, I liked my cartoons. 

I never put on the news. There was too much negative things, too much death and fear that came with the great big world. So, I stayed off the news. Plus, the cartoons made me feel happy and child- like. It made me feel as if there wasn't a care in the world and it made me feel as if my mind could be as imaginative and creative as a child's.

The remote fell onto the floor beside the couch, and eventually, my eyes couldn't stay open much longer without stinging. 

***********************************************************************

Thud. Thud. Thud. 

My eyes snapped open. 

Who in the world would be banging on a door at... Two in the morning!?

I stretched my shoulder and moved my neck trying to get the cramp out. The pressure in my muscles released, but not before more thudding made me jump.

Who ever it was, they were determined. 

I could tell it wasn't my door, but everyone on the third floor kinda knew each other, and no one seemed like they'd be getting into trouble. 

Thud. Thud. Thud.

It sounded like the police.

Curious, my feet took me forward and then my toes sunk into the carpet as my heels said hello to what ever was behind me.

The peaky hole welcomed my eye and it showed me a man at the other end of the hall. He was knocking on Ms. Lincourt's door. She was a sweet lady, and we'd become friends over the years. We were never super close, but I counted her as a friend. 

But... I didn't understand. Who was this man, and why was he banging on her door in the early hours of the morning?

He appeared to be around my age, and he was shaking. He held up a card that said 317, the same numbers on Ms. Lincourt's door. I could see fearful eyes as it waited for an answer to the door. He held his waist with one arm, the other held up the card. His dark hair, I wouldn't say they were black, but they were almost there. His eyes were a deep green and his skin reflected his time in the sun.

He removed his arm from his waist and went to knock again, but Ms. Lincourt opened the door at that moment and both their eyes widened. 

"Fourteen Wolf Street, Dolgeville, New York." He said in a thick French accent. (AN Found the address on Bing Maps, I don't know if it's really an apartment complex or whatever.)

Ms. Lincourt nodded and she embraced him. It seemed as if from there, he let his knees give out on him, and he collapsed into her arms.

She led him inside and the strange ordeal made me even more curious.

The two had looked similar, at least, their hair was alike along with the jawline shape. I knew that Ms. Lincourt came from Northern France. She cursed in French sometimes, but I never could understand it. I never cared enough to learn a new language in school, and I didn't see the need to. 

But... Ms. Lincourt never said she had a child, or any family for that matter.

I'd asked once, but she changed the subject. Was she ashamed of her family? If so, why'd she let this stranger in, and hug him? 

I shook my head. 

None of this was my business. I shouldn't be butting in. 

Though, I was a curious person, and I couldn't help but feel curious. The man seemed so sad, and I was a caring person. Maybe I could help him somehow. 

I'd made up my mind. I'd help him. I didn't know why, but I would help him. My determination was strong.