Lines Between Worlds (Part 2)

I put the glass down on the table.

“No, no, no! Careful with that, any scratches and she will kill me”.

I had forgotten that some tables were so expensive and that anyone might be concerned with preserving impermanent belongings, to the point where they’d stress over it.

“I’m sorry. If it was mine, I wouldn’t be so anal about it, I just don’t want to deal with her, there was a scratch on the kitchen counter last month and she went ballistic. I had to take the blame so she didn’t fire our helper.”

I seemed to recall living in a household like this. Very friendly and decent, so long as everything was in perfect order and no mistakes were made.

After lunch, I instinctively went to the kitchen to was the dishes.

“No no no, you don’t do that, that’s why I’m here sir” the helper said.

I awkwardly passed her the dishes.

None of this would have felt awkward to me if I had any real choice about being here. I was inexpressibly appreciated for my friends kindness for letting me stay over her house. Her mother had gone on vacation for the week and so with the dictator gone, my friend was free to be the kind being she was meant to be, as introverted as she was. With enough living expenses for two weeks, the ten days I was spending here would help me get through the month, which would hopefully be enough time to get everything together.

As we spoke, I had to hold my tongue on multiple occasions. Some things we could talk about freely. Many things that are part of “western” society, I am not accustomed to, despite growing up with them. If I want to avoid constant debate, sometimes it’s better to just keep quiet. But we were friends for a reason, despite feeling that there is anything healthy about “not liking people”, there were plenty of ways in which we saw eye to eye.

I hadn’t spoken with anyone who was taking medication for depression in at least a year, here it seemed as if every other person was on them. My friends mother had my friend (unmarried and without children) take out a life insurance policy, presumably so that she could cash in if anything happened to her daughter. My friend knew I would laugh at that. We both felt it was insane, hedging your bets on your children’s life. That’s the culture though.

I went downstairs to buy some juice at the supermarket.

“How are you, sir?” the security guard said to me, with a smile.

Ah, yeah, sir.....they call you that. I tried my best to be polite. It was a nice change from what I had just come from, but I wasn’t sure I’d appreciate it much when it became part of a routine. What if she was having a bad day, shouldn’t she be allowed to frown for a change?

“I’m fine, how are you?”

nice