“I’m going for a quick walk right now, if you want to join?” I say to Gladys, hoping maybe I can kill two birds with one stone.
“Oh, you’re so sweet,” she says. “But I don’t want to impose. You’re so busy, and I’d just slow you down.”
I feel a bit guilty for only really offering out of a desire to get something in return. I know New Yorkers don’t necessarily befriend every neighbor (and how could they?), but I don’t want to be using an old lady’s sadness over her departed friend as a way to simply make a point.
“Maybe I need to slow down,” I say truthfully. “Come on, show me the route you used to take with Esther. My first client isn’t until nine; I have plenty of time.”
Her eyes light up in assent, and I’m genuinely glad. Maybe pettiness can have some positive side effects after all. I loop my arm in hers and resist the urge to look back at Eli to see what he thinks of this development as we set off.
Half an hour later, I’m buzzing with the kind of joy you only get from those serendipitous New York moments. A stroll with Gladys was actually a pure delight. We spent our walk talking about music mostly. I never realized that Gladys had worked for a big record label when she was younger. We talked about streaming versus physical music, and she gave me some great tips for deep cuts of artists I enjoy that are actually digitized now.
When I get back to my apartment, I take George’s leash off but pause in the doorway. I have to admit, after that walk, I don’t want to keep going like this with Eli. I don’t want to be the kind of person who invites my neighbor along in order to poke at someone else. This isn’t me. I can respectfully question what’s happening to my roof without turning it into a war.
I walk down the stairs and knock on Eli’s door. It swings open, and I can see his surprise at me standing in front of him. But his surprise is nothing on mine, because he’s only wearing a towel and his hair is wet and slicked back, beads of water dripping down like he’s in one of those elaborate shampoo commercials (that are really only one step above porn, if we’re being honest). I wouldn’t have pegged him for looking sogoodhalf-naked.
I want to be an adult and not look ... but I can’t not look.
“Ah lovely, if it isn’t the saboteur,” he says, schooling his face into his typical smirk.
I wonder if he senses that he’s thrown me off. Because yeah, I’m thrown off.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” I blurt out.
“I’m in my own apartment,” he says, as though I’m the one misunderstanding things.
“Yeah, but why wouldn’t you at least ask who’s at your door before you answer it without clothes on?” I throw back.
Just then the elevator dings, and a delivery guy gets out and hands over a paper bag withTompkins Square Bagelswritten on the side. Eli pulls out the single bagel, laden with cream cheese, and holds it up to my face as though it’s evidence.
But all it does is make me more exasperated. “You paid for delivery for a single bagel?”
“Welcome to New York,” he says, feigning the worst New York accent I’ve ever heard. Brits really do make the worst American imitators.
“You werejustoutside,” I point out.
“Good of you to keep tabs on me, but I didn’t feel like walking over there and waiting in the line. I happen to believe my time is valuable. So I enjoyed one of the perks of living in a thriving American metropolis consumed with capitalism and ordered myself a single bagel.”
It’s hard for someone to look so pleased with himself when he’s holding up a towel around his waist, but he’s managing.
I remember why I’m there, though, and try to snap back into my desired professionalism/neighborliness that I want to redirect us to. “Well, great for you, or ... something,” I say, leading with ineloquence, apparently. That smirk along with ... everything else ... is really disrupting my focus. I can pull myself together, though—I deal with people’s emotional states on a daily basis. I can handle this guy. “But I just wanted to say, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Taking the walk with Gladys was actually really great, and I truly don’t want to have anyacrimony in the building. I obviously care about what happens here, but it doesn’t have to be antagonistic. I don’twantit to be antagonistic.”
I might have spit a lot of words out, but I’m happy with the sentiment. I’m expecting his response to be equally contrite. But based on the deepening of his smirk, I can immediately tell that my hope was way off base. He’s eyeing me, the look so heated it almost shimmers, and I hate that when he stares at me, it’s as though he can see right through me.
“So you’re going to tell your landscaper friend to not comb through my proposal anymore?”
“Well ...” I pause, surprised, not knowing how to respond to that. “No, I’m not saying I’m not going to do basic diligence—”
“Which the building is already doing. Soextradiligence,” he points out.
“Yeah, but—”
“And, am I right in assuming you actuallyhavelooked into every possible building rule and government entity that could delay me?”
“I’m not saying I’m going to use any of that—”
“Andthis is all after you realize I actually know a lot of people in the building quite well?”
“Okay, but—”
