blakspring

When it rains it pours, and all of a sudden I’m getting last minute tickets to Flogging Molly (thanks Jersey!), invites to movie screenings and off-Broadway plays and library conferences, friends who I’ve been meaning to call contacting me as if they got my telepathic hellos to arrange meet-ups, and working extra hours at the public libraries.  Which is probably why I woke up Friday morning with a sore throat, stuffed-up ears, and aches all over.

And in the midst of all this I am trying to avoid a stalker.  OK, I’m probably definitely being dramatic but let me describe two incidents and you tell me it ain’t creepy.

In the apartment above me live an older couple, their daughter, and her teenage son.  Though I don’t know them very well, they seem nice enough and we always exchange pleasantries.  The older couple also have a son who lived with them years back but no longer does and I’d never met him.  In the last two or three weeks I noticed a man coming and going from their apartment.  I assumed he was the son visiting his parents and we would say polite hellos to each other.

Tuesday night, while I was at the Flogging Molly show, padre was in my apartment with the carpenter putting some finishing touches on my closet, when the doorbell rang.  Padre went to the door and it was the son.  Padre was surprised and asked the son if he rang the doorbell.  The son said yes, so padre asked if he meant to ring it, thinking he pushed the wrong bell accidentally.  The son replied that he rang it on purpose because, “I’m lonely and wanted to meet your daughter.”  My dad was so taken aback that he only managed to say that I wasn’t home.  Later he was fuming to madre about the incident, and I heard it all third-hand from Little Sister.

The next night I was coming home about 11:00 PM when I thought I saw the son standing outside, a few houses down, talking on his cell phone.  Inside the house, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.  I had a few things I needed to do on my laptop before going to bed, so I settled in on the couch and enjoyed the silence.  Twenty minutes later I heard a light knocking on my door.  My first reaction was to answer it, thinking it was Little Sister, but then I realized that she always knocks loudly and calls my name.  So instead I just froze and thought of Alfred Hitchcock films.  There was complete silence and after about 30 seconds there was another light knock on the door.  I started to text “Please tell me you’re knocking on my apartment door” to Little Sister.  Since I am the world’s slowest texter, I only got about half-way through when I heard footsteps walking away, going up the stairs, and then walking directly above me.  Hmmmm, I wonder who it could have been?

I called Little Sister and told her the story.  She was totally creeped out too, “especially since he’s married and has a kid.”  WHAT?  Apparently he has a kid with an ex-wife, and is now married with a new child in the Southwest.  He can’t find work there so came to NYC to look for work while his family stayed behind.  Yeah dude, I really want to get to know you.  The kicker is that when Madre called to complain, he denied that it was him.  Really dude?  Because your elderly parents who are probably asleep by 10:00 decided to knock on my door?  Or maybe your sister came home early from her night shift and wanted to hang out with me?  Or maybe your 14-year-old nephew needed homework help?

I haven’t seen him since but I’m not looking forward to what will surely be an awkward moment.

This entry was posted on Sunday, March 7th, 2010 at 3:07 pm and is filed under mi vida estupida. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.