The Foreigner

Chapter 4

This morning, I wake up earlier than usual. It was the best night of sleep I had in the last few days, and this time I did not wake up leaning on the desk.

I decide to have breakfast indoors. I do not want to risk seeing her so soon. It would be a bit embarrassing.

But on the other hand I need to go out home. Do something different. Taking a walk might inspire me to write something down. First I go up to my bedroom and check, with my binoculars, if she's at home. No movement there.

Then I wore the sports shirt, shorts and tennis shoes. I'll run to the edge of the beach.

On the way, I meet Mrs. Kincaid. She lives in the house next to Thompson's. He's taking care of the garden.

-Good morning, Mr. Whitman! Taking a walk today?

-Yes, Mrs. Kincaid. I'm going to the beach. I cannot miss a morning as beautiful as this. Don't you agree?

-Sure! Good ride then. - She waves her hand, saying good-bye.

-Thank you. - I reciprocate.

I live only a block from the sea and so the path is not time consuming. I soon reach the beach.

I run for ten minutes and I'm tired. I'm really out of shape. I crouch with my hands on my knees.

I decide to go to the sand. It's lighter than I remembered. The sun is strong and it dazzles the eyes a little.

I sit on the sand. The sea is agitated, the waves a bit high. The idea of ​​coming here was good. Maybe the relaxing will help me to write. I close my eyes. I breathe deeply. And then the image of Lorraine comes to my mind. Not that of her last days, but that of the healthy, lively and active Lorraine. I loved her very much. I sigh. It is not being easy to live without her.

I get lost in the memories and I do not even feel the time pass. When I look at the watch, I realize that it's time to back home.

After lunch, I go to the porch to watch the house next door. I disguise reading a book. I keep expecting her to appear. But there is no sign. The house remains closed. There is no movement. I just fall asleep right there. When I wake up, it's already nightfall. I look at the house next door. It's all dark there. Everything is just like before I slept.

I give up for today. I walk into the house straight to the bedroom. I open the notebook to see if I can write something. So I look at the window. It draws me irresistibly. I get up and I'll take a peek. There's nothing different there.

It's so strange, I think. The same house from which come the sounds that shake my head now lie in a sepulchral silence. It seems like a truce after the previous days without peace.

I'm tired of looking. At least I could sleep well tonight. I yawn. I'm going to bed.

The next morning I get up cheerful.

The first thing I do is look at the mailbox. I have not checked the mail for days. There may even be late accounts there.

In fact the box is packed. I pick it up, close the box, and walk into the house. I put the envelopes and papers on the coffee table. I get the coffee that just got ready and the biscuits. I sit down and start checking each letter while I drink the coffee. Most are advertisements. Some accounts, letters from the bank. And... wait! There is an envelope that is not in my name. What's written in it? I look for my glasses.

Heidi Zegers. It is the name of the recipient. And the number is of the one next door. Yes, the letter is for her. Heidi.

Another envelope is also meant for her. Why did they come here? Is this a joke? Or was it just a mailman's mistake?

Whatever the reason, I need to deliver the mail to her. It can be something important.