The Mechanics of Us

Chapter 6

Usually, seeing a familiar face is welcoming, but under these circumstances, I would debate otherwise. Apart of me wants to open the door and go on my knees and beg for her forgiveness. I'm not too sure what about, but I have this compulsion to plead for mercy. However, there is another part of me that wants to run away and to not confront her. I don't want to be asked questions about her daughter's conditions because I wouldn't know how to respond. I need more time to think. Compulsively I tip-toed backward distancing myself from the door that divided us, my hands trembling, and a numbing sensation began to spread across my palms, my legs go limp, and I lose my footing and stumble back hitting the table with my hip. I wince in pain. What should I do? My head whips back and forth, up and down, seeking a place to escape or hide. The apartment is almost entirely bare, and I am pretty sure the girl's mother heard me crashing against the table. I am faced with two options: fight or flight. It is known that when an animal is confronted with something that has startled them, their sympathetic nervous systems go into overdrive. Hormone levels begin to rise, and our perception of time becomes altered. We are in a moment of fighting what is threatening us or fleeing.

I only have a few seconds to decide. Do I open the door and fight? Or do I pretend I am not home and hide in my room? If I choose not to open the door, will I have missed an opportunity to connect with the mother and then have the chance to monitor? Or when I open the door, will the interaction be too much, and she will know who I am and immediately decide to leave and all my efforts will be for not? I decided on the most logical plan to buy myself more time.

I swivel on my heels and begin to dive for my bed, but my body freezes on me. I can't take another step to get to my bed; my joints tense and become stiff, the muscles in my legs convulse and retract, making me move sporadically towards the door in puppet-like motions. My legs lift in high angled positions, my arms wave outward and hit the sides of the wall with a loud thud. Then without much thought, I hastily raise my arm, clumsily grasp the doorknob and throw myself against the wooden frame of the door then throw myself backward to open it. What just happened? Sometimes a moment is too bizarre to understand in the moment or too much to process, and so the brain does an extraordinary thing and pretends it didn't happen at all. As soon as I make eye contact with the woman, I instinctively extend a hand and greet her with a pleasurable smile and act as if everything was okay.

"Hello, I'm your next-door neighbor. Nice to meet you," I cheerfully express, my hand waiting for hers.

"Hello," she gleefully chimes and takes my hand in hers and gives it a firm shake and squeeze.

"I see you just moved in. I just wanted to stop by and welcome you. It's not much here, but I think you'll like this place" The melody of her voice is very soft and warm. I never heard such a comforting harmony of tones before.

"Thanks, uh... do-do you remember me?" I question in complete bewilderment. I understand that some people are better at remembering names rather than faces and vise versa, but the woman and I only saw each other a month or so ago. Additionally, I was a leading influencer in her life; the likelihood of her not knowing or recognizing me is slim to none. Yet, the way she greeted me, with no judgment or biases, means she doesn't recognize me. I am aware that my scar is very prominent, and that could affect how I appear to others, but it is only a few weeks ago that I just saw her. Surely she would remember who I was unless she decided to forget what happened and move on. I know I would if I was her.

There is a long silence as the woman purses her lips and examines me. I hold my arms out to the side, my legs spread shoulder-width apart, my face utterly expressionless as I wait for an answer.

"No, I don't believe we have met. But you do look similar to a friend I had in high school."

I give a half-hearted laugh and shrug.

"I guess I just have that face-" I dishearteningly respond.

The conversation is dragging on, and it is at the point where neither one of us knows exactly how to end it. I begin to wave goodbye and close my door, but a flash of red and a loud crash catches the mothers and my attention. I witness the mother lounging for the door leading to her apartment and then a series of crashes, high pitched giggles, followed by more crashes as swiftly as the mother left returns in an equal amount of time slightly flustered and this time with a young girl in tow.

The mother has her daughter perched on her hip with her arms cradling the girl's bottom.

"Who is this beautiful girl?" I gleefully ask. I watch as the mother's face light up, and soon I am bombarded with facts about her daughter.

I don't pay attention to what the mother is saying; it is more so to buy me some time so that I can inspect the girl. I start with her skin scanning for any scars or sutures that have remained or bandages still present. I didn't see anything. Surprisingly, not even a single scarlet lock of hair is out of place and the girls radiant sapphire eyes could still hold anyone's captivity. When I catch a glimpse of her hand, I can't even tell that it is machinery as it seems so realistic. There is slight discoloration as the side possesses a darker shade of sandy white, but again, if someone were passing by, they wouldn't even notice. I gingerly open my palm up towards the young girl for her to rest her hand in mine, but her mother shifts her position, so her body shields her daughter from me.

"She just got over a cold, so I don't want you to catch it" her tone is uneasy.

A plastic grin carves itself on the woman's face, and I step back at her disheartening comment.

"We should probably get going. We have some errands to run-"

As the woman turns away from me I lift my hand up one last time towards the young girl and to my surprise she takes it. It's brief, but the encounter leaves me with a faint, icy chill, which then diffuses throughout my body, enveloping me in a chilled hug. But when our eyes meet, and I see the toothy grin on the girl's face, the wintry aura is soon replaced with radiant warmth.