The Bottom of the Sea

Part 7: A Good Natter

What was a natter? I went to my bedroom to change, pulling on my most comfortable pyjama pants and a soft cotton t-shirt. Already, I was starting to feel better; in fact, I was suddenly starving. Maybe I'd have some of that soup after all. If I had to endure some girl talk with my cheerfully nosy neighbour-landlady, I suppose it was worth it. After all, she did bring me soup.

I gave my teeth a quick brush, washed my face and checked myself out in the mirror. My skin was flushed pink and I looked bone tired, but I had accomplished something. Maybe I wasn't a complete screwup after all.

I put my slippers on and went down the stairs to find Missy busying herself in the kitchen. "I suppose you know your way around the place," I offered, sitting down. "It being your house and all." I had been dreading chatting with her for days now, wanting to keep to myself. Shane isolated me from all my friends over the years, until I didn't have anyone left.

"It's no one's business what goes on in this house," he used to say. The less people who knew about us and "our business," the better. I was used to doing things his way, and that meant losing touch with all my friends over the years. I felt like I didn't speak the language anymore.

Maybe, if I was careful, I could have a friend.

"Not really," she said, pouring tea into two mugs. "Buying this place was Julian's idea. He was going to renovate and flip it at first, but he decided to rent it out instead," she said. "Sugar?"

"Just milk, please." I accepted the steaming mug from her. She joined me at the vintage Formica table. "I don't like the place, to be honest." She said, glancing around the kitchen. She rubbed her arms up and down and cupped her hands over the steaming mug.

"Really? Why not?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. It's just not my cup of tea." She smiled at her accidental joke, glancing down at her cup. "It's a bit...old fashioned. For my taste." She shrugged and took a sip, not meeting my eyes. "Most of the furniture is from the original owners, Julian didn't want to get rid of it. It just feels like I'm in someone else's house."

I knew what she meant. In a way, the house felt almost too lived in, like there was a family already here and you were just a guest, instead of all by yourself in the place. Rather than being put off by that, I liked it. It made me feel less lonely.

"Well, I like it here," I said. The tea was soothing and fragrant, it settled my stomach. "Even though it's big, I find it warm and cozy. Like, I can almost picture little kids sliding down the bannister, the mom doing dishes, looking out the window. It's got a nice vibe. You know? The house itself is so lived-in, it almost feels like company." I felt embarrassed; I'd said too much. But I meant it. I was getting used to the place; in fact, I was starting to love it.

She looked startled for a second before her demeanor changed and she smiled. "I'm glad," she said. "We're just happy that you rented it. We'd much rather have someone stay in it for months, rather than renting it to a bunch of strangers."

"I'm a stranger," I said, sipping my tea.

"You know what I mean," she said, touching me on the arm. "You are the ideal tenant — you paid up front, you're quiet." She looked around. "No wild parties. And you're keeping the place spotless! You should have seen the mess some people leave behind. Some people trash the place and I have to spend days cleaning up. And they have the nerve to deny it!" She shook her head. "If it was up to me, I'd get out of the Airbnb game altogether, but Julian wants to keep going with it. Of course, he's not the one who cleans it from top to bottom when people leave."

It was a small thing, but it warmed me to know that she and her husband considered me a good tenant. I wasn't used to compliments.

"I'll take good care of the house until I'm gone," I said. "Where's Simon?"