After a night run, I listened to the worried words of my mother over the phone receiver. She’d left 10 messages and I’d answered none of them. If I was so lonely, why was I ignoring the outreach of my family, even if my ‘family’ was just my mother?
A cold feeling settled in my chest from the cool air outside and I started a pot of water on the stove and opened the windows, since I knew I’d grow too warm later in the night. As I waited for the water to boil, I played the messages on speaker, and heard heart break with each that came after the other. I felt heavy. I rifled through my purse for the bottle the doctor had given me.
‘Take two’, he said.
I felt myself unscrew the bottle, and then the doorbell rang. I looked through the peep hole and a man about my age, average height peered back at me. I unlocked the door, “Hello”, I said.
“Hello”, he grinned. I grinned back forcefully, and then realized who he was.
“You’re from the market,” I said, more of an accusation than a revelation.
“Yes, I brought this. I didn’t realize you lived in this building until tonight. You hadn’t come and. . .”
“You must of thought there was a shortage of pie?” I mused, jokingly.
He handed me the bag in his hand and I thanked him, “You didn’t have to do this, I would’ve came for it eventually. And I still have so much left from the other night.”
He shook his head, “It’s no trouble, just a friendly gesture.”
“Well, thank you,” I smiled and he seemed to beam back with a new found curiosity gleaming in his iris.
“Would you like to eat some with me? I don’t sleep much and two people eating pie is better than one?” I felt my self utter before I could stop.
His smile flourished, “I don’t sleep much either, I’d love to.”