The Foreigner

Chapter 3

It's already night. Here I am again trying to write something on my notebook. But nothing. No idea comes to mind. I'm just remembering the neighbor's scene with her boyfriend.

Why does she intrigue me so much? Was it her dark way?

I'm going to bed. It's late and I do not want to be forced to write.

I look at the picture of Lorraine on the bedside table. It seems that when she left she took my inspiration together.

I barely close my eyes and the sound of rock invades my ears. What the hell! 

Like the other night, I try to muffle the sound by putting the pillow on my head. It is impossible to sleep. Does not any other neighbor listen? I have to figure it out today.

I get out of bed and change my pajamas by shirt and pants. I walk down the stairs. I'm going to her house. I stand in front of the door. I take a deep breath to take courage. I ring the bell. I'm nervous. What will their reaction be?

The door opens. There is no turning back. A young man smoking a cigarette and having a bottle of beer in his hand is the one who picks me up.

-Good night. I'm the next door neighbor ... -He smokes on my face.

-Heidi, there's a guy at the door who wants to talk to you.- He shouts interrupting me and then leaves, leaving the door open.

She does not appear. I dare to enter the house. The mess is general. It looks like a branch of hell. Young drunks, clinging, smoking cigarettes and stuff.

As I walk through the confusion, a girl runs past me. Behind her a boy yelling his name with a beer bottle in his hand bumps into my shoulder.

I walk down a corridor. There I address a couple who are talking:

-Excuse me, where do I find the lady of the house?

-She is there.- He points in the direction I'm going.

-Thank you. I keep going and reach the kitchen. She's on her back. The hair, braided, is forward. He wears a dark denim shorts.

But what strikes me most is the tattoo that practically covers her back. It's a phoenix. I cannot see what she's doing, but she swings her hips in quick movements, seeming to follow the sound of heavy music.

-Excuse. I'm your new neighbor ... -I try to address her.

-What?- She turns to me in surprise.

-I'm your new neighbor. -I raise my voice and approach my head in the vain attempt to be heard.

-Speak louder! I cannot hear you. She points to his ear.

Then I scream. - I'm your new neighbor. I wanted to ask you to slow down the volume of the song. I'm trying to sleep and the sound is invading my room.

-Is the music bothering you?

-It is. It's too loud. It doesn't let me sleep.

She goes to the living room, turns off the sound and asks in a rather ironic way:

-Folks, come on. It's time. We're bothering the neighbors.

They try to resist for the party to continue. But she insists.

-Really. Let's end the party.- she says, forcing them out.

After the last participant leaves, staring at me sulkily, she turns to me:

-Ready! It's solved! The mess is over.

Did she really do that? Did she expose me to her friends in this way, making me look ridiculous? I cannot believe.

-I did not want to end your party.- I just want...

-Have a great night. - She interrupts as she holds the door practically kicking me out of her house.

-Good night,- I say, bewildered.

On the short drive home I feel bad for ending her joy. Nor the attempt to think that I am right and they were wrong moves me from the feeling of guilt. And there is also the remembrance of the shame that I experienced before those people, which begins to generate certain anger against her.

Why did she do that? Was it a form of revenge for I having spied her that night?

Whatever. At least I can get some sleep tonight. And to achieve this was easier than I imagined.