Fiction Friday - Delayed

When Astrid's aging Honda Civic pulled into her driveway, she noticed a package on the front stoop. That was nothing new, but the hot pink post-it attached to it stuck out like a sore thumb. She pulled in under the tin-plated carport - the one ugly mark of this otherwise cute little bungalow she'd got for a song a month ago. Once the necessary interior renovations were finished, she'd have time to attend to this tin-roofed eyesore.

The pink post-it said, in meticulous, tiny script: "These arrived at my door by mistake. Happy tiling! 148b." Her tiles had arrived! She'd start on the broken down shower wall this weekend. 

The town planners didn't bother to give each house its own number on the outskirts of town. 148b sat across a narrow gravel alley from her cracker-box at 148a. An identical cracker-box house, 148c, was on the other side of 148b. After setting down the tiles inside, she leaned into the bay window, looking over at 148b. She had never met or even seen her neighbors. 

On the weekend, the doorbell rang while she was working in the bathroom. A man with a small "Chewy.com" box under his arm held out a clipboard to her. "Your neighbor's not home, but I need a signature. Can you handle it?"

"Um..." She didn't know the woman, but then again, 148b had delivered her package. She was probably safe. "Sure, I guess." Maybe now she'd meet Pink Post-it Girl. A teacher, if handwriting was any indication. 

The package was addressed to "E. McNulty" E. Elizabeth? Elinor?

After two attempts to deliver the neighbor's box on Saturday and one more try on Sunday, Astrid decided the woman was probably taking a weekend away. Later Sunday night, gritty after working and sweating in a tiny room, she decided to give it one more try. When there was still no answer she tore a sheet off the little notepad full of measurements in her pocket and scrawled. "Sorry I couldn't hand this to you in person. Hope you enjoyed your weekend away! - 148a". 

Just before tucking the note into an edge of the box, she impulsively added "Coffee sometime?" at the bottom. It was just good manners to know your neighbors in a small town like this. She listened for animal noises inside. Nothing. Of course, a cat or dog might be traveling with their owner. Or maybe the Chewy box was something for a classroom hamster. Teachers did stuff like that, right?

Astrid was out of town at a conference for most of the next week. She was greeted at her carport on Friday night by a tall, narrow box leaning against the house under the shelter of the carport roof - her shower fixtures! No pink post-it this time. She felt a tiny drop of disappointment, but at least it meant they got her address right. Carefully pulling past the box, she saw two large potted plants sheltering beyond it. That meant the nursery dropped by without calling first to be sure she was home.

Moving it all inside, she noticed an index card on a stake in the largest planter. In her neighbor's precise cursive was: "I'm not spying, but didn't see your car for three days, so I took the liberty of watering these beauties. Hope that's okay. - 148b". Then a line below that: "I don't drink coffee, but could meet for a cup of tea."

Astrid smiled. The pink post-it had conjured up a young, 20-something teacher. Tea seemed more mature - maybe 40-ish? Possibly a high school Lit teacher. Tea and a good book seemed like a fair pairing. She was looking forward to meeting this stranger even more now. At 36, she'd have more in common with someone in their 40s. 

Saturday was bright and sunny, so Astrid rented a paint stripper from the big DIY store and got to work on the back of the house. She hadn't noticed the colorful van pull up into the alley, but when a woman in her peripheral vision waved frantically at her through the carport Astrid turned off the machine and moved one of her ear protectors. 

"Hi, I'm Sally from the library. Sorry to interrupt your work, but I'm delivering books for Emil and not getting an answer. Can I leave them with you?"

Astrid's ears were ringing, even though she'd had protection. "Sure," she shouted back. "Can you just set them on that bench?" So her neighbor's name was Amy. How was that spelled with an initial E? Sally set the books on the workbench and looked warily at Astrid, as if not trusting someone using power tools with such a precious commodity. They smiled and nodded at each other and Astrid restarted the stripper.

When there wasn't enough daylight to keep working outside, she packed up the gear and cleaned up her mess. She had planned to go inside, but clearing the work bench uncovered the books. Thank God libraries cover their books in those plastic slip-covers! Astrid hesitated over the option to shower before trying Amy's door. "She's probably not gonna be there anyway." With that thought in mind, Astrid left on her paint-chip-encrusted work clothes and walked across the alley.

To her great surprise, the door was opened after a moment's delay. By a man leaning on a wooden cane. "Yes?"

"Oh! Hi! Uh...the library dropped off some books for Amy. Is she home?" Maybe Amy's father was visiting.

The man's face broke into a wide smile. "Emil, not Amy." He held out his free hand. "Emil McNulty, nice to finally meet you, Ms. Easterbrook."

A brief laugh escaped her open mouth. "You're not a woman!"

His smile turned into a chuckle. "Was it the pink post-its?"

She relaxed. "That, and your handwriting. It's so - perfect!" 

"Occupational hazard. I was an engineer. Would you care to come in for some tea, Astrid?"

"Oh!" She looked down at her clothes. "I'd love to, but I'd leave paint chips all over your immaculate living room." The house was indeed neat as a pin. A moving shadow caught her eye as she looked down at it. He noticed and followed her gaze to a large tortoise lumbering toward the open door.

"That's Clarence. We've survived worse than paint chips, but I'd better step outside and close the door or he'll run away." He said that with a wink and they both laughed. 

She looked from Emil to Clarence and the pristine room beyond and said, "I have to admit, you're not at all what I expected."

"I could say the same for you," he said as he stepped out to join her, ushering them to a pair of chairs on the little patio next to his steps.

"Me? What did you expect?"

He gave a shrug and said, "Based on the deliveries? Frankly, I thought you were a man." 

I called this one "Delayed" mostly because I'm a day late finishing it. Life got in the way. But I thought it also fit the way the neighbors' meeting kept being delayed. What title would you give it? Have you ever assumed something about someone and later found out you were completely wrong?