I’d been expecting a family—the building was big enough to house at least three children and maybe grandparents, as well—but she seemed to be alone. She was young and small, and her mousy brown-blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail. She’s awfully small to be living in the house. My watering can was empty, but I kept miming the tipping motion. And to be living there alone, too. I don’t know why it unsettled me as much as it did. Maybe it was because I wouldn’t have felt safe living there alone, and she seemed so much more vulnerable than I was. Maybe it was the feeling that she would need an ally, but so clearly didn’t have one. She unloaded the truck herself. It didn’t contain much.
One of my friend, Happy, had wandered out to see what I was doing.. “Whatcha think, Happy? Should I pay her a visit?” Happy gave my wrist a love bite then frisked into the bushes, probably to hunt for lizards or insects he could eat. I know it’s weird to hear but yes happy used to do all these things. He love catching dirty animal and kill them later. He wasn’t scared of anything. And this behaviour of happy was not normal. He started doing all these things right now.
I looked back at the house. The lights were coming on again for the first time in these days. I’d never actually seen inside, except to peek through the windows. Was the interior just as grim as the outside? I scanned the chipped grey stone front, its lichen and vines the only plants that seemed to survive, then set my watering can down. Like I said, I’m a curious person. Sometimes that’s a good thing.
I hurriedly prepared a batch of muffins. Because Happy is not happy htese days. I don’t what’s wrong with happy, Lucky and Ruby. They are not even talking to us. Cooking is my hobby, and I always have some kind of baked goods lying around the place, but I felt like a new neighbour deserved something fresh. Muffins were by far the fastest and easiest gift to cook. Combine sugar, flour, eggs, and milk, then mix through whatever sweet things are available. For that batch, it was bananas, so ripe they were threatening to spoil. Fifteen minutes in the oven, and the muffins were ready.Those fifteen minutes were some of the longest I’ve ever sat through. I wiped down my bench twice, fiddled with the kitchen’s curtains to give me a better view of the house, and fished a basket and tea towel out of the cupboards. Then I bent low and stared at the rising batter as though I could make the muffins cook faster through sheer force of will. As soon as they looked close enough to done, I pulled them out and threw them into the basket, earning a couple of burnt fingers for my impatience. I met Bell in the hallway. Happy carried a live lizard but dashed towards the living room before I could stop him. There was no time to chase him. I resigned myself to having a lizard living in home. Our street has generous gardens for a suburban area. It takes me fifteen paces to reach my front gate, then another twelve to follow the footpath to the Ruby’s room, and a further fifteen to her front porch. The porch had been painted white at one point, but the grey wood showed through clearly. Fissures ran up the grains, and the boards groaned, making me feel as if it were about to collapse out from under me. The front door stood open, but I stopped on the mat and knocked. Icaught a quick glance of dark wood, long red curtains, and a twisting staircase before my friend appeared in the doorway to block my view, looking shocked and frazzled. Her hair was coming out of its ponytail, and her T-shirt had slipped askew. My first impression was of large, round
eyes, like a deer shocked by the apparition of some predator. She stared at me, her mouth open a fraction, then said, “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you.” “No. You shouldn’t have. I mean, you didn’t have any reason to.” Has there ever been such a bad combination as chronic curiosity and social awkwardness? I thrust the basket out ahead of myself, hoping an offering of food would soften my abrupt greeting. “Muffins. For you.”