Chapter 4: Cindy
The following is a work of fiction, and a continuation from the previous posts, Chapter 1-3:
The next few days looked exactly like the past few months – sleeping in, runs and walks on the beach, gluing my eyes to a book, intricate dinner feasts made and prepped for one person, lots of wine, and vodka sodas. I had turned my life into somewhat of an auto pilot with these activities being my daily rituals. It was almost as if I was living a gray daze. I was in denial about my future, and even more petrified to look at my past.
One evening after I had been on a walk for a couple hours, I stopped at the end of my driveway, and checked the mailbox. There had hardly been any worthwhile mail thus far my stay there. Most of it had been spam, anything from oil changes, grocery coupons, or advertisements intended for the owner of the house I was renting from. I continued to have my mail sent to my current address in Los Angeles, and had my assistant, Mary, who I wildly overpaid collect and organize it. Mary kept my life together – she paid my bills, did my taxes, helped me book my travel, amongst other things. She basically kept me from getting into any trouble and did all of the things I had never learned to do from a young age. She was the one who found this house and paid the rent each month.
When I opened the mailbox, I browsed through the usual spam mail, until I saw a mint green envelope addressed to, "Our Neighbor" in hand written black cursive. There was no stamp on the envelope or return address, so I quickly tour it open and found in my hands an invitation to a dinner party for the following Friday, thrown by none other than the new neighbors I had waved to on their dock the other day. It was themed, "a dinner by the sea." It probably would entail lots of champagne and sea food. Typical for any out-of-towners who ventured here – they all had to embrace the fresh and local caught sea food.
I immediately thought of two things after I opened that letter from who I now knew were The Chambers living next door to me. Immediately, and a large part of me regretted acknowledging them in anyway that day. I no longer felt invincible, even if they had put these invites in every mail box on our street, and I just happen to live right door to them. Or was I the only person invited who they didn't know by name, so they had to write, "Our Neighbor" on just my envelope?
Although, a small part of me was intrigued by this invitation. I hadn't spoken in-depth with anyone in months, outside of the staff at the grocery store and local liquor store in town.
I was walking towards my house when I heard a bike wheels come to a stop and a girl say, "You coming to our party?"
I turned around, still holding the opened mint green envelope, and looked into the eyes of that girl I had seen the other day on the pier. Her long dark hair was pulled back again into a pony tail, while she wore white jean shorts and a navy blue tank top. She had some red skin around her shoulders and cheeks – most likely some sunburn from the scorching hot Florida sun on her pale skin. She had a smile on her face that was almost contagious to look at.
"I'm not sure," was all I could muster as a reply.
"You should come – it should be a great turn out. And lots of food and wine," this girl replied back. She still didn't look over the age of 15, and yet her eyes light up when she mentioned wine.
I sat there in silence unsure of what to say to this girl. Instead I tried to change the subject and quizzed her, "Aren't you quite young for wine?"
"You're never too young to drink wine in small portions," she quickly and slowly retaliated. There was poise and sophistication in her voice. The kind you most likely get from years of a prep school, but it was even more than that. I thought she must be that kind of girl that was born a grown up – ahead of her time in maturity.
"I couldn't agree more," I replied.
I glanced up towards my house, signally to this girl that our time was at an end. I was always a polite woman. I was just less and less chatty these days.
"Promise you'll think about it?" the girl asked as she put one foot on her bike pedal, signaling back to me she would soon leave.
"Sure."
I was about to walk back inside when she said, "I'm Cindy by the way." And with that, she smiled and slowly pedaled away. Now the girl who laughed and smiled a lot next door had a name.
The next few days looked exactly like the past few months – sleeping in, runs and walks on the beach, gluing my eyes to a book, intricate dinner feasts made and prepped for one person, lots of wine, and vodka sodas. I had turned my life into somewhat of an auto pilot with these activities being my daily rituals. It was almost as if I was living a gray daze. I was in denial about my future, and even more petrified to look at my past.
One evening after I had been on a walk for a couple hours, I stopped at the end of my driveway, and checked the mailbox. There had hardly been any worthwhile mail thus far my stay there. Most of it had been spam, anything from oil changes, grocery coupons, or advertisements intended for the owner of the house I was renting from. I continued to have my mail sent to my current address in Los Angeles, and had my assistant, Mary, who I wildly overpaid collect and organize it. Mary kept my life together – she paid my bills, did my taxes, helped me book my travel, amongst other things. She basically kept me from getting into any trouble and did all of the things I had never learned to do from a young age. She was the one who found this house and paid the rent each month.
When I opened the mailbox, I browsed through the usual spam mail, until I saw a mint green envelope addressed to, "Our Neighbor" in hand written black cursive. There was no stamp on the envelope or return address, so I quickly tour it open and found in my hands an invitation to a dinner party for the following Friday, thrown by none other than the new neighbors I had waved to on their dock the other day. It was themed, "a dinner by the sea." It probably would entail lots of champagne and sea food. Typical for any out-of-towners who ventured here – they all had to embrace the fresh and local caught sea food.
I immediately thought of two things after I opened that letter from who I now knew were The Chambers living next door to me. Immediately, and a large part of me regretted acknowledging them in anyway that day. I no longer felt invincible, even if they had put these invites in every mail box on our street, and I just happen to live right door to them. Or was I the only person invited who they didn't know by name, so they had to write, "Our Neighbor" on just my envelope?
Although, a small part of me was intrigued by this invitation. I hadn't spoken in-depth with anyone in months, outside of the staff at the grocery store and local liquor store in town.
I was walking towards my house when I heard a bike wheels come to a stop and a girl say, "You coming to our party?"
I turned around, still holding the opened mint green envelope, and looked into the eyes of that girl I had seen the other day on the pier. Her long dark hair was pulled back again into a pony tail, while she wore white jean shorts and a navy blue tank top. She had some red skin around her shoulders and cheeks – most likely some sunburn from the scorching hot Florida sun on her pale skin. She had a smile on her face that was almost contagious to look at.
"I'm not sure," was all I could muster as a reply.
"You should come – it should be a great turn out. And lots of food and wine," this girl replied back. She still didn't look over the age of 15, and yet her eyes light up when she mentioned wine.
I sat there in silence unsure of what to say to this girl. Instead I tried to change the subject and quizzed her, "Aren't you quite young for wine?"
"You're never too young to drink wine in small portions," she quickly and slowly retaliated. There was poise and sophistication in her voice. The kind you most likely get from years of a prep school, but it was even more than that. I thought she must be that kind of girl that was born a grown up – ahead of her time in maturity.
"I couldn't agree more," I replied.
I glanced up towards my house, signally to this girl that our time was at an end. I was always a polite woman. I was just less and less chatty these days.
"Promise you'll think about it?" the girl asked as she put one foot on her bike pedal, signaling back to me she would soon leave.
"Sure."
I was about to walk back inside when she said, "I'm Cindy by the way." And with that, she smiled and slowly pedaled away. Now the girl who laughed and smiled a lot next door had a name.
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