Stranger to Me

~One~

Gilda's P.O.V.

It was three o'clock on a lovely Saturday afternoon when she arrived. I was sitting in my chair in the living room situated next to Albin's chair, enjoying Jane Eyre, accompanied by a cup of hot tea. It was a most quiet and peaceful afternoon. That was when the knock on the door came. A short and smart one it was, and it came just once.

I started. I don't like doors very much. I don't like phones either. I love communicating, mind you, but those two just aren't agreeable in my view. Carefully I placed my tea cup on the little table that Albin built, the one sitting in between his chair and mine. I turned my book over and put it beside the cup.

Standing up, I attempted to peer out the window to see who could be at the door. I could not really see, but I dared not go any closer to the window lest the person I was trying to see saw me instead.

Seeing no real way out of the dilemma, I walked towards the door and placed my hand on the door knob. Then I grabbed it back. With it, I smoothed my hair and brushed down my skirt. Finally, I took a breath and opened the door.

There stood a young girl - well, compared to me, at least - wearing a t-shirt, capris, and sneakers. Her dark hair, tied in a ponytail, was covered by a blue coloured Blue Jays hat. But there was something about her that caught my eye immediately - her skin colour.

Unlike the rest of this white community, she was a light shade of brown. I guessed she hailed from somewhere in south Asia. I stood up a little straighter, shaken by the appearance of this foreign person.

"Yes?" I asked, in an earnest effort to be polite.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," the girl said. Her manners are formidable, I thought to myself, and she also doesn't seem to have any sort of accent.

"My name is Sajana, and I'm here on behalf of my church charity," she continued. Church? I asked inwardly. Since when do Asians go to church?

"Are you looking for a donation?" I spoke clearly to hide my inward bafflement.

"No, ma'am," she answered. "We were encouraged to go into our neighbourhood and find someone who requires assistance. I've come to ask you if there is anything I can do for you around your house or yard."

My mind immediately raced upstairs to the spare room filled with junk. It needed cleaning out, and it needed it desperately. But questions also jumped into my mind. Doris had told me the other day that she had seen an Indian man trying to shoplift in the corner store near the gas station. He had gotten caught, of course, but Doris told me she knew he hadn't meant to pay, even though the man insisted he had simply forgotten. The main question was - could these people be trusted?

I turned to the girl and smiled.

"I'm sorry, dear, there's nothing I really need help with around here. Thank you."

She nodded.

"Thank you for your time, ma'am. Have a nice day."

As I went back to sit down comfortably in my chair, with my book, my tea, and Albin's chair right there next to me, a thought hit me:

Am I a racist?