Friday, April 28, 2017

#8- Ikea and Late Apologies

Dyeing my hair actually had taken three simple steps, but it had also reminded me of something else from a year ago.

I was standing in front of 308. After receiving no answer to my knocking, I glanced at the janitor, who was making his way down the hallway to the staircase.

“Who lives in this apartment?” I pointed to the door neighboring mine.

He squinted. “Banks Avery. I think.”

I smiled “Thanks.” I pounded on the door. “Miss Avery, I-”

The door jerked open, and the young woman who lived next door definitely looked different. The dark circles under her eyes and the puffy redness around them made me forget why I had knocked on her door.

“Are you okay?” I asked, slowly lowering my raised arm.

She glared at me. “I’m fine. What do you want?”

I blinked a few times. “Right. So I’ve been a bit distracted, but I realized I needed to apologize for being a jerk about the sock thing.” I laughed nervously. She didn’t look like someone who was okay. “That was like a year ago….”

“Thanks. Apology accepted. You’re still a jerk. Is that’s all?” She moved to close the door, and I put my hand out.

“Wait.” I racked my brain for something better. “I... propose a trip to Ikea. As a better apology. They’re having a sale. Anything you want, I’ll pay for.”

I was fairly certain she was going to strangle me. Ha. Wouldn’t that be a great way to die after my monotonous life?

“If I say no, will you leave me alone?” Annoyance overlapped with defeat.

Hearing those words, I realized how they sounded every time I had said them in high school. And I had said them enough times to know what they meant.

“Miss Avery, with respect, I would not. I would continue to knock on your door even if you slammed it in my face.”

She continued to glare at me, probably wondering if she could call the police about a weird neighbor banging on the door.

“One hour at Ikea.” She said. “I don’t want to hear anything from you unless I ask.”

“Of course.” I agreed.  “This is my apology for you, Miss Avery.”

She glared at me. “And stop, stop calling me that.”

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