"Good Things" by AL

Competition 4 Honourable Mention

It’s a stormy day today. Suits this neighbourhood perfectly, being a place where nothing good ever happens. Every day, there’s someone who wakes up or comes home to find that something or other went missing or someone who gets hurt while out on the streets later than they should. Even the wail of the police sirens is more familiar to me than the sound of my own voice. Of course, if I could have afforded it, I wouldn’t have chosen to live here. But I was desperate to leave the other town and as they say, desperate times call for desperate measures.

So here I am now.

I fish for the keys that I keep in my left coat pocket and insert it into the lock. A quick turn of my wrist and a click! opens the door to my house. I cast a quick glance over my shoulder. In a place like this, I’d have to be careful. I’d have to make sure no one knows I live here alone. No one’s there to hear me, but as I step into the mess I call home, I say, just in case, “Honey, I’m home!”

I close the door and let out a relieved—

Something clatters onto the floor in the kitchen and the sound of rushed footsteps grows near as someone replies, “Oh good, I did the groceries today.”

Startled, I drop my keys and grab the object closest to me—my umbrella—and point it towards the person who just stumbled in front of me. The man—chestnut brown hair, pantos tortoiseshell glasses askew, beige sweater vest, maybe a year or two younger than me—puts his hands up upon seeing my raised umbrella. He backs up a few steps and trips over a box of tissues I’d forgotten to put back on my coffee table, falling with a thump to the wooden floor.

I hold my umbrella steady, slowly making my way closer, give him a stern look and ask, “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?”

He fumbles a bit, gets up, and dusts off his shirt. He clears his throat. “Um, hi. I live across the street and um, well, we’ve uh, never formally met before—oh! I’m Carson, by the way. Carson Stewart. Well, uh, back to what I was saying, I see you from across the street sometimes and I just thought, well, you seemed a bit, um, I might just be too nosy, but I just thought you might need some help sometimes. That is, what I mean is... Well, you always call out ‘Honey, I’m home’, but no one ever replies, and well, as far as I can tell, there’s no one else who lives here, so...” He takes a deep breath, scratches his head, gives me an apprehensive look, and continues. “So I just wondered if you wanted some company.”

I stare at him.

“Oh! Um, I noticed that you keep a spare key in the bush next to your doorway, so I just used that to get in. Sorry, that was rude. I didn’t think much of it earlier, but this counts as breaking and entering, doesn’t it?”

I start to loosen my grip on the umbrella, but continue staring.

He looks away and shuffles his feet. “Um, if you were wondering why I responded when you called out, it’s like I said earlier. I thought you might be lonely and, well, maybe hearing someone finally respond would be good for a change.” He cringes. “Sorry, I probably should’ve thought about how weird it was before I came in. But I swear—honest to God—I didn’t come in to take anything, I just—”

“I believe you.”

Carson looks up. “What?”

There's something about him. Maybe it’s the way he stumbles over his words. Maybe it’s the fact he might’ve brought groceries. Maybe it's even how neat his pantos tortoiseshell glasses look. Or maybe it's what he said. The way he asked whether or not I want company. Despite us being strangers. Something about Carson brings me back to the first day I met him, my only light in the darkness. Friendly, caring, maybe a little reckless, but now, gone. He is the reason why I’d left the other town. I didn't want to be stuck in a place brimming with memories of us together. Not when he was gone. So I up and left, just like that, leaving everything behind. I didn’t leave to search for another person to be my light. Not that I thought I’d be able to find someone like him. Really, I didn’t think I needed anyone else anymore. I didn't want to lose another person I cared for anyways. But perhaps it’d be nice to have someone around sometimes. Perhaps this is a chance at a new beginning.

Without looking at Carson, I speak again. “I said, I believe you.”

He studies me as I put the umbrella back on its hook beside the door. I remove my shoes, carefully placing them on a small mat near the tissue box. He continues watching as I pick up my keys from where I dropped them, put them back in my left coat pocket, and hang my coat next to the umbrella’s hook.

I turn to him and raise an eyebrow. “Well? Am I going to get to take a look at the groceries?”

“Oh, um…” Carson scratches his head and looks down. “Truth is, I didn’t bring any. Sorry. I just said that I did ‘cause—well, honestly, I don’t know why I said that—but I’ll bring some next time! I promise! I mean… if there is a next time, that is?” He gives me a sheepish smile.

I laugh. “Alright, next time. Do you want to stay for dinner today then?”

Carson beams. “It’d be a pleasure.”

I smile. Maybe good things do happen here sometimes.