"Umm…Hello…I'm…I'm…" What the fuck am I even doing here?
Fucking making an idiot of yourself. At least try to close your mouth and look composed, Putin's advice was as helpful as usual. This didn't help me much right now. My heart was pounding and my stomach clenched in an uneasy fashion. I craved a smoke right now.
Now, as to my current whereabouts, in case you already started to wonder (knowing you, I'm sure you did…you're quite nosy, in case you weren't aware). About five minutes ago, I had parked myself in front of Frieda's apartment door, contemplating whether I should be knocking or not.
Yes, yes, yes…I know what you think. What is this idiot doing back there? No, I hadn't forgotten what happened here a week ago. And yet, I was back at my old apartment block, back at the place where memories came crashing down on me to the point that I tried ending my own life a second time. But before you get your knickers in a twist on my behalf I would like to point out two things which are significantly different this time round. Number one: I had brought along plenty of cigarettes, and number two, I had not come here alone.
While my companions had started a cleaning mission inside my place (for reasons that I will elaborate on later in this chapter), I had been sent on a coffee run. According to my therapist, who had given approval for this visit, I wasn't supposed to see my bathroom, because apparently, the place looked … real fucking bad…think butcher's workshop kind of bad. And although I felt bad about not helping, I hadn't muttered a single word of complain. The truth was, I wasn't sure whether I could handle seeing this shit and I rather not have a repeat experience. Mainly, because I didn't feel the need to suffer through a twenty-four-hour observation again. The first twenty-four hours of this were an unbearable nightmare, and when they extended this by three days, I thought I actually had died and entered hell.
Let me tell you, this would have turned into the ordeal of a lifetime, hadn't it been for my new best friend who had the skills and mindset of a professional drug smuggler and made sure I had an unlimited supply of cigarettes, lighters, an unlocked window, and a dismantled smoke detector in my room.
But I'm getting distracted again. And I really don't want to think about SHU-like confinements right now.
I thought it would be nice to say thank you to Frieda who had helped me on that peculiar day. Perhaps, it would be even nicer to get her a coffee too. It was just after nine-thirty am, which was a perfect coffee-drinking time, and not too early to knock on someone's door. Yet, now that I stood outside with my fist raised for a knock, my courage had decided to pack its bags and fly on holiday without me. (Please don't tell anyone, but I'm actually a little shy…especially when sober).
So here I stood, holding my breath with my hand still dangling mid-air because, apparently, I had forgotten how to move a single muscle, and wondered why I had considered this a good idea.
Why would anyone want to be confronted with the idiot who not only ruined a perfectly fine Friday night, but potentially the entire weekend? Because most people wouldn't simply call an ambulance, deliver first aid, and then switch on the telly to watch House of Army while chewing popcorn, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. (House of Army is an amazing show, in my opinion, don't get me wrong. The clock is my favourite character albeit the most under-appreciated one. On the other hand, they should have let go of this awful uncle-character right after the first episode of season one. Cutie should have munched him to death then and there.)
I shook my head and sharpened my ears. My attention span seemed to be getting shorter with every single breath. Maybe I should get my own head checked for Alzheimer's? Although, in my case, this potentially would be considered a blessing.
There were no footsteps. Frieda either was pretending not to be home, or she really wasn't there. Maybe she had already left for work.
"Right," I told myself, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. "Time to get this coffee run on the road." I turned around and came face to face with a powdery-pink uniform that was cramped into a too-small winter coat which had seen better years…or rather decades.
Frieda had a standard-issued face mask dangling from one ear which she swiftly moved back into position, and in turn, almost knocked her earmuffs off her head.
"Pierre?" She asked and it took me a moment to realise she meant me. Perhaps it was about time I chose one alias and stuck with it. I seemed to be losing track of which name I used to introduce myself to which person. On the other hand…my personality was way too complex for just a single label.
"Umm, Hi," I answered. (Did I mention that I was rather shy around strangers when sober?)
"You look…good," she told me, then shook her head, as if she changed her mind about my appearance on closer inspection. "I mean..you look good, as in you look much better than when I saw you last. Healthier, you know…" her cheeks changed colour and her gaze drifted to the floor. She wore the same sensible shoes, and it was the ugliest footwear ever invented. I mean…it was hard to make green Crocs with fake-fur insoles and heels look stylish…but these shoes certainly managed.
"Is that your way of telling me I'm ugly?" I could hear Hermione sigh inside my head. Putin, instead, chuckled. I didn't know what was wrong with either of them. It had been a genuine question. Personally, I didn't think I was ugly, I didn't have the genes for it. But perhaps potato-shaped people had a potato-shaped view of what was considered beautiful and what not.
"What? No! Of course not. I just… I mean… I just…I'm sorry I didn't mean to overstep boundaries. I only wanted to…" Frieda stammered with bright red cheeks and without looking at me. "I only wanted to say you look rejuvenated."
"Rejuvenated." I parroted. "Sounds like a phrase from a travel catalogue." I'm serious… just look up any travel location if this world…rejuvenated is a universal favourite to describe 'boring view and overpriced hotel with nothing to do but lounging around and staring into the sunset'.
Frieda nodded but didn't say a word otherwise. I got the slight impression that she didn't feel like continuing this conversation with me, as her eyes kept on drifting to the keypad on her door.
"I was in twenty-four-hour observation," you know…"for about three or four days—"
—(I mean… you can't blame me for having lost count. I wasn't allowed my mobile phone in there.)—
"— After…" I gulped, "I…I'm in therapy…to help me with…shit, you know." I swallowed down a clot so massive that I wondered how it had managed to get stuck in my throat in the first place, I guess I had forgotten how to use proper words too and butchered through my sentences. "Last weekend wasn't great…" This was probably the most awkward conversation I ever endured with anyone, and I should have put an end to it right then and there. Naturally, I didn't and my mouth just kept on running on its own accord, "umm…I got friends over to help… tidy up the place and shit…and I was sent on a coffee run. Can I get you something… you know, to say thank you?"
"I…that's nice," Frieda replied and looked just as awkward as I felt. "You'll have to drive a little to get a coffee here. But I guess you know that already... you have one of these fancy phones and you probably looked that up already and… sorry I'm rambling. I… umm... It's fine…you don't need to get me anything."
I actually hadn't looked up anything because I simply assumed coffee shops popped up like mushrooms these days. There had always been one around when I needed it. "Where would you recommend I go for coffee?"
Frieda seemed to think. "There is a convenience store with a cute little cafe about a ten-minute drive away from here. If you follow the main road all the way up north, until you reach the intersection at the…"
I started to laugh. "You're talking about Mr Chip's place. Borahae shop & cafe." I absolutely adored the rebranding. ChimChim had been upset by it. The shop now had a bright purple sign instead of the old, green one, and apparently convenience stores with green lights are the bestestest. I was sure he would get around though.
"You know it?" Frieda flashed me a smile, "It's a little out of my price range, but I occasionally treat myself. They do support a special needs charity, you know, and the barista is…"
"I know, I know…" I nodded… "I used to work there… actually… I recently started again…although only an hour a week. On Mondays. It's my art therapy, you see."
"Art Therapy," Frieda slowly repeated and looked at me as if she thought my needs were rather special too.
"It's a long story," I skipped any further explanations, "you know what. I text Mr Chip to come over with ChimChim and a few drinks. I miss seeing them. I wasn't allowed to attend my session last Monday, you see…because of the…incident…on Friday…"
Frieda made some odd noises, and I wasn't sure what to make of them.
"I guess…I'll stop bothering you then…I … Are you sure I can't get you a coffee? I'll make sure to tell ChimChim not to spit in it."
"Spit in it?"
"He does this occasionally. But only when he doesn't like the person. Really, I don't think you have anything to worry about. You seem kinda…nice. And don't worry, ChimChim isn't bothered by strange fashion, such as sensible and grey shoes."
"Strange fashion, I see," Frieda mumbled, looking down at her footwear, and then at my Yeezy Foam runners, as if she tried to tell me something with her gaze. Granted, my four hundred thousand won sneakers were a little on the cheap side, but in my defence, I had to withdraw four day's worth of credit limit—and basically live on only a hundred thousand won a day, before I could actually buy them. And then I had to wait for an additional day, to have enough liquidity again to get myself an Uber into town. I sighed. "So…about the coffee…?"
"Thank you so much, but I just finished a night shift and really need to get to sleep now," Frieda said.
Oh! "Oh!"
"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to… I just…" I made an awkward step out of the way, after having realised that I was still blocking Frieda's way into her own place.
My neighbour smiled. "You wanted to be nice. And I appreciate it. Thank you." She blushed again, "and I'm glad you feel better and have friends to help with the place. I thought it was abandoned, you know. I actually raised a complaint with the council. The smell was a little…" Frida stopped and blushed some more. Although this was a little embarrassing to hear, I couldn't blame her for it.
"I guess it was. But now, a friend of mine might be moving in here…Although he's not that close of a friend…Actually, he's my very best friend in the world…. He's kinda okay, I suppose…Once you got used to him. He's a bit grumpy, you see. It's a personality trait. But his brother is the opposite with a personality like a Christmas tree. They are losing their current place, because the complex is owned by Min Grumpy's—that's my friend's name—company, but he lost his job with them. ChimChim, that's his brother—the barista at Borahae, you know—thinks it's his fault, but Min Grumpy actually lost his job because he gave the big boss the two-finger salute. We're still dying to extract the full story out of him. Min Grumpy isn't the world's most forthcoming storyteller, but this one's going to be a bomb, for sure."
"That's nice."
I bit my lip. I guess I had been rambling a little and on closer inspection, Frieda really did look dead on her feet. "Well," I turned around and managed two steps forward. "I guess I get going. You don't want to see my friend on a caffeine deficit. Things might get dangerous."
"Didn't you say you wanted to text your other friend—Mr Chim? To come over with the drinks?"
"Mr Chip, yes, but I'm going to have a cigarette while I text him."
Frieda nodded, then turned around and started punching in her number.
I should have known better than to pester her with further questions, but nevertheless, I turned around again and yelled, "for how long have you been my neighbour, by the way?"
"I've been living here for just over ten years," Frieda replied before she disappeared into her place, shutting off anymore potential questions.
I furrowed my brows. Had I seen her before last week? Have had any interactions with her? She seemed slightly scared of me…as if there was another, big, thing that I fucked up and I didn't remember.
Oh no…don't jump down memory lane. Think of other things. What are you going to order? You will have to be nice to Mr Chip if you want to ask him to deliver the coffee here. And be prepared that he might say no. He might not be able to leave his shop in the middle of the day. Hermione rambled, but I kinda agreed with her.
"I'm going to have a hot chocolate myself." I told my phone on the way down the stairs. "I think Mr Chip already ordered some winter-flavoured syrups. Last year, this had been my job. I kinda miss doing that. I wonder what he got…Mr Chip is not the most creative persona on the planet, so I guess my options are gingerbread or cinnamon flavour. Maybe I have a mix of both…Although I'm not really the biggest fan of gingerbread. Then an americano I guess, and an oat latte with plum juice." As soon as I had left the building and retrieved a cigarette, I lit it up with my new best friend's lighter.
Min Grumpy was currently my most favourite person in the world. While I was in hospital, he and ChimChim had come over for a visit. At the time I was sure it was ChimChim who had wanted to do the visiting, and Min Grumpy who had been assigned to do the driving, at least, this would have explained the raincloud-like expression on his face. But then the dude surprised me by clapping my back, and handing me a box of brand new Raison Blacks and a lighter. "Hospital regulations are fucking stupid. Do whatever keeps you sane in here." He said, nodded, then removed a screwdriver from his pockets and made adjustments to the fire detector in my room. Only to then pretend that the whole interaction had never happened.
While you were busy reading the above paragraph about the new friendship I had formed, I sent the recording of my order to ChimChim. I might as well go to the Barista directly, rather than bothering Mr Chip. ChimChim wouldn't say no to me. He would prepare the drinks and hand them to Mr Chip and tell him that they 'need taking to Tae's place', and that was that.
And my assumption turned out to be correct, because ChimChim answered only about a second later with a thumbs-up emoji.
Happy with myself, I went back upstairs, two steps at a time, then remembered that I probably should try to walk quietly as my neighbour was just preparing for bed.
Letting myself into my apartment, I advised, "coffees are on its way."
"I know," came a muffled response from the direction of my kitchen. "I got a text to pick them up in five." Min Grumpy appeared in my doorframe, looking like something that had lived under someone's bed for a number of years as a professional monster. "I'm done cleaning this fucking pantry, and mate, if I didn't get a month rent-free, I would lock you inside of it for an hour or two, just so you get to appreciate the flavours as much as I did."
"You have three months rent-free," my brother yelled from the bathroom that he had been scrubbing for the better part of two hours, "so shut up and get back to work."
"One month," Min Grumpy yelled back, "I'm not a fucking freeloader."
I shuffled to the living room, not bothered by the argument Jin and Yoongi had been having for hours now. Instead, I plonked down on the bedroom window sill, and looked across the road to the care home. It was now after ten am, but lights were still burning and I could easily glance inside. A nurse who was wearing an identical uniform to Frieda's busied herself by folding laundry in the living room. But what really drew my attention was the tiny little thing attached to her ankle. My heart suddenly felt like it was bungee-jumping.
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