The Day She Kissed Me

The Times I Wished

You must know of my annoying neighbor that decided to bless me with discomfort on the first day she made herself home and you know how I sent her out with her promise to disturb me even further.

The woman was currently banging on my door after a week  on a cool Saturday morning unlike the weekend she arrived into my neighborhood.

"Mr. Homer, " she called from the place that she stood. "I know you're in there. I want to speak to you." she asked.

I tried to ignore her voice and the works of her little arm by using ear plugs but it wasn't enough to block out everything. It was uncomfortable, squeaky and I needed order a new one online from a service who could deliver within two hours.

I heard my name and wished for a moment, I knew any home shopper to shop on my behalf but they were too jolly like Santa Claus was their uncle or worse, their father. Acting in three-ways, Christmas past, present or future high on Easter eggs.

"Mr. Homer." I heard faintly and somehow, that unraveled me to the point of no returning point of irritation.

I got out of my best past the bottles of beer that accompanied me through the night and moved to my front window where I saw the she devil looked up at my building before she walked back up the short steps to porch.

Frustrated by her effort to wear me out, I looked at any sign of my gun, only to remember it was  in the shed at the back and my eardrums would burst at the age of forty-six before I reach the back.

I grabbed my cane at corner of the steps before I head down with its support after a fall of two years back from a ladder on my DIY moment of fixing the roof and fucking it up like every five minutes craft video known to man. On bad days, the leg throbbed and strained, and Miss Marlene chose the same time to visit me.

As soon as I stood in front of the house, I opened the same as last, no know if she would try to get in like those miss independent nobody asked for but decide to change some poor man's life. Not this man, hobo lady.

"What do you want for the love of go—pete?" I asked, almost saying a name I swore never to call again. Even if I was on my dying bed.

"Good day, Mr. Homer. A lovely afternoon for a cup of tea and a pie to go along with." she said, holding a white bowl, where the pie laid.

I was lucky to be unable to smell the rotten sweet dessert, and pissed for her telling me the morning I thought it was, was actually afternoon. Way to tell me I was a drunk, and not someone who threw his clock.

"Care for a slice?" she asked. "I can join you if you want." she added, quickly.

"Some of us sleep in the day," I told her and couldn't help but notice she looked well . . . put together than the last time with her awful first impression. Impress me with bangs and shouts for an apple pie.

"You're make an eye-catching vampire hunter, Mr. Homer." she said, giggling softly at her words.

That was it. She has managed to infuriate me, disturb my sleep, make open the goddamn door for her to leave. What on earth did I do to receive this woman? Make children cry on Halloween? Burst a ball that broke my window? Can't recall.

When she saw my bored face, she straightened up. "Sorry, Mr. Homer. It was a bad joke, I didn't know you worked night shifts. It's honest work."

Why don't she try buying a big house with a pay from a night shift and tell me the secret to happy living.

"Is that your kid?" I asked, shifting my eyes to her back and she turned to confirm my words, and used the opportunity to lock her out, again. The woman didn't know when to give up, I wished I could go back in time and buy her house myself when that backstabbing mutt, Gael asked.

"Mr. Homer, Mr. Homer," she knocked out my door, after sensing and seeing my foul play. A foul play for a foul mood, deserved her right.

I walked to my kitchen, whistling lowly to get her to leave her in peace, and not in pieces.

"I'll be back, Mr. Homer. You look the next batch, see you!" she yelled, I held my breath and heard her footsteps fading with each one.

That was how Miss Marlene left to spend and enter the new week and the next without any sight of her.

Just when I was relaxed, comfortable with myself on my recliner with a bottle of wine to numb my sense, someone knocked on my door. Not, the neighbour's loud knock but the polite salesman kind of knock that pull you to the door.

I stood up, knowing who it was and opened the door. After I left the house wide open, I turned around and laid back on my seat.

"Good afternoon, Jerrod." The tall brunet man in jeans and a fitted tropical shirt showing his muscular physique, greeted me as he carried a brown carton inside.

I didn't answer my brother. "Where's my crates of beer?" As my share of liquor had finished, I had to make due with wine until he came.

"Way to go, bro. In the back of my car." Phillips said, and jabbed his thumb back at his car.

"Go, get it." I told him with a sigh as I closed my eyes.

A few minutes after my brother made his last trip with the final crate. He dusted his hands in front of me.

"Done, big brother."

I opened my eyes to give him a nasty glare. "You can leave."

"Pass your company shares to me, will you?"

I eyed him. "When I'm dumb, old and toothless. Start your own company."

"Whatever you say, boss. How about a raise for this delivery man?" Phillips' eyes twinkled on the prospect of money.

"Poor customer experience. Forget it, I have done enough for you."

"You know as the better looking brother, mom said I should tell you this: nobody lives without a phone." Phillips mimicked their mom. "Dad said you should get a life before they drove out here to see you, take you home and treat ya like a baby?"

I flipped him a bird, "Buzz off."

"Saw a lady offer to give apple pie the time she came here." my brother noticed the frown on my face. "What have you been up to?" he wiggled his brow as he stole my glass and drank my crimson drink.

"Tell her I'm dead." I snorted as if she would actually buy it.

Phillips arched his eyebrow before he loosened up. "You know, she reminds me of—"

"Out." I ordered.

"I haven't putting everything in the fridge." My brother exclaimed.

I don't care if he was twelve years my junior. "Get out, now!"

He resigned to his fate, dropped the wine glass and make his way for the exit to let me be.

When he stopped and tilted his head to my direction. "You can't keep living like this. She wouldn't want that."

With that said, he left me in the wake of a closed door and opened feelings. I buried my head in my hand and control myself from breaking anything in the house, again. She wouldn't want that.

There were things I wished I had the power to change. I could hardly count the times I wished I could bring her back and act like never she left. Oh, the times I wished.

No matter how much I begged and pleaded, I was still being punished for my sins.