Just A Knock Away

06: I FOUND SALEM

NEIL

I had so many questions.

But I knew that it wasn't my place to ask. I had to keep reminding myself not to get involved with something that had nothing to do with me, and I knew for a fact that whatever had just gone down at her doorway was exactly that. Sure, a chance encounter took place because I wanted to apologize about the music and the mailbox and the elevator, but it could've been anyone at that door consoling her. Or no one. Either way, if she wanted me to know why she'd just broken down and cried in my arms then I'm sure she would come to me about it. And I had to respect that.

When we stood there for a moment, her body calming itself and her breaths returning to normal, I didn't let her go. Not because I couldn't, because it was a pretty straight forward procedure. But because I didn't want to. I was holding onto her because I wanted to protect her, just in that moment. I wanted her to feel safe and like she could rely on me, the same way I wish someone had done for me all those years ago.

But then she gently pushed me back with her hands on my chest, and I had to choice but to relax my grip and let her step back. Salem wiped her tear stained face, taking a death breath and pushing her hair back from her round face. As I let my eyes roam about her complexion, I couldn't help but wonder what had left her so defeated and empty. I knew that she was dealing with a loss, but who or what was still up in the air. And whatever or whoever it was had to have been extremely important to her.

She let me into her apartment afterward, which I felt was well deserved considering the amount of times I'd seen her cry already. It was nice, too. Somehow she'd made hers have more space and the minimalist aesthetic made me feel like I was in a NYC brownstone. I took my shoes off and walked around, gazing at her large plants, her silhouette art pieces, and the pictures of her and strangers in frames around her living and TV space. "This is nice." I commented after I'd made my way back to the kitchen where she was drinking a glass of water.

Salem croaked, "How do you know my name?"

I shrugged casually, glancing at her over my
shoulder, "People talk." When she didn't respond I turned around to face her giving me a look that told me she knew I was bluffing. "Name on the mailbox. Pretty standard."

Salem shook her head, her arms over crossed her chest as she loosely held her glass of water. "As if I don't have enough stalkers."

"What?"

"Forget it," She waved it off dismissively, setting her now empty glass in the sink and turning her back to me. "You can . . . you can go now."

I glanced around her apartment, her very empty apartment. Sure she'd arranged her furniture so that she had the optimal amount of space, but it was still empty. Her cushions didn't sink in like they do when they're used to people reclining on them. There wasn't a stain in sight, not even a blemish on the wall from furniture or artwork. Everything was in place and spotless. Untouched. "You seem like you need a friend right now."

"I have friends." She refuted flatly, her back still to me.

I stood up from the island and slowly made my way over to the sink that she was hovering over, her eyes in the faucet and her hands gripping both sides. "You sure about that?" I queried softly, being sure to keep my distance.

I seemed to have hit a nerve. She shook her head, a loose curl from her ponytail moving with her, "You don't know me. You don't know anything about me." Salem looked at me then, "You're a literal stranger, and you're trying to come into my life and tell me what I do and don't have. You literally don't know me."