New To The Neighborhood

Rising back up, struggling to grip the heavy box of clothes, he faced the window next to the front door. Without a second to think, he watched someone zoom down the neighborhood hill. He could not process the occurrence. A bike? A girl? Holding the heavy box with thin arms, Don continued staring through the window, observing the now empty road, watching the mind’s replay of a girl cruising down on that very road seconds ago. Huh? The pain of gripping such a heavy box brought Don back. He suddenly felt an urge. Not excitement but anxiousness. Who is she? He surveyed the room: unorganized boxes everywhere, unpacked kitchen essentials, his high school yearbook. His fingers cried for him to drop the box. The silence and the surrounding messiness fed his tingling uneasiness. Turning back to face the window, Don viewed the sunny day, separated by glass. This rush was intense. Unfamiliar. Yet, something else was advising him to hold the heavy box, to contain the burst. To ignore it. He glanced again at the shaded, sloppy room. What the hell. He dropped the box and ran out the door.

Don was sprinting down the hill, committing to a motion his legs were not accustomed to, hustling like an injured, skinny gazelle. His body screamed discomfort: he sensed the heat; his sweat dripped; his breath tightened. Unkept hair continually plopped onto his eyes. Yet, he did not stop running. Don was experiencing a high–a very vivid excitement. As he felt balance was about to be lost, he saw her stop at the bottom of the hill. All his pent-up bitterness, fermenting while packing his things, were smoothened and forgotten. He was no longer annoyed about the three years he had wasted since moving to Orange County, California. He was no longer cursing the location for not having brought him anything lasting, memorable, or valuable. He forgot about the failed music projects he developed during this time. He forgot about finances. He stopped pondering his soon-to-be new life in Manhattan. He was going to move out. This awfully out of line experience surged and expelled all his thoughts. I need. More. Air! Don was terribly out of shape. 

Only a few steps away, Don halted. Finally able to stop and breathe, Don devoured air while exhaling instant noodle ramen whiffs. She too had fully stopped, wearing small running earphones, checking her apple watch. She seemed to be taking a phone call, but Don could only focus on not blacking out. She was completely occupied with her call, not noticing him grappling with death. She looked to be in a good mood. Catching his breath, Don’s mind settled down. As quickly as he had recollected himself, he began to spiral. Nervousness shocked him. What am I doing? What am I doing? This was all a strange, inconsistent act with his quiet and lone life. He had thought about jogging back up the hill, but the ridiculousness of it embarrassed him further. Though, it was a little less ridiculous than what he was about to do. Agh, God. SCREW IT. He tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hi!” Instant regret. She was not done with her call. He wanted to roll up in a ball back in his bed, which had the familiar scent of spicy chips. 

She turned around, facing him with alarmed eyes. “Sorry? Hold on, I’ll call you back.” She quickly hung up, alert and startled.

Pretty. No, she’s not. Yes, she is? “Oh no. Um, I was just. Wait, your call. You should get back to it. I just–I’m not sure. Yeah, sorry about that.” Don stuttered. Badly.

She hesitated, but she seemed to have relaxed, seeing Don projected innocence rather than danger. She smiled, but her eyes were full of confusion, creasing downwards as her lips went upwards. She tilted her head honestly. “What?”

Pretty. Very pretty. “Oh, I was just walking around the neighborhood, checking things out.” Don nodded his head, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, I’m just new to the neighborhood. I thought I’d make some friends today. I’m Don.”

Her eyebrows lifted lightly. She was astonished. Her mouth was open as she blinked twice. Her eyes were very gentle. She had the face of a soft, cheerful mother. She didn’t speak very fast, but her words were gracious yet playful. “Wow, that’s so… Awesome! Well, welcome to the neighborhood. I’m Ines.” 

Ines. Woah. Don knew why his instincts to run out the door flared up when seeing her. She looked different. Don grew a stinginess to the typical SoCal Asian. They were copy and paste. Don hated copy and paste–he made sure all the R&B music he engineered was defined by his style. These SoCal Asians took on each other’s attributes, learning how to safely blend in with one another. They lacked originality. They all dressed the same. They all had the same niches. To preserve their image, they sacrificed their individuality. As a result, Don had barely initiated conversations outside his house. He occasionally went to his Korean church, but, apart from that, Don only spoke with those he made music with. Sometimes they were connections that had reached out to him, for he was particularly good at fulfilling requests with his own creative touch, and sometimes they were people he had worked with before–Don loved good drummers, for they made his job of mixing significantly easier. He yearned for New York. The city of independents. Or rather, he yearned to simply leave California. 

“Yes, thank you. How long have you lived here?”

“I basically lived here my whole life, apart from being born in China.”

“China, nice. Do you like it here?”

Her eyes were hung like stars, edged but softened from a glow. She tapped her fingers to her chin. The attraction did not come from some universal metric of prettiness, but rather from her mannerisms, natural and subtly slow. “Hmm. I think that… I really like living here!” She threw up her arms as if she were trying to surprise him. Don could not believe she was real. She seemed so naive. Unaware. Yet, so comfortable. Even her smile was delicate, hinting with shine. She did not act like a pretty girl. He suddenly wanted to match her energy. He wanted to show her that he appreciated her.

“Really? That’s great to hear! What about the people? I heard they’re boring and tasteless. Nice but not kind.”

“Excuse me! That includes me, you know.” She giggled as she made a pouty, stern face, showing the offense that she had taken. 

Don chuckled back, fully ready to engage in playfulness. “Well, you’re definitely the exception. You got a plain shirt on. You got an apple watch. You don’t have that much–.” Don stopped. Idiot! What are you doing? 

She waited for him to finish. “Huh? Uh, what?” She seemed entranced by his random surge of energy. He suddenly seemed so passionate. Yet, her confusion was written all over her face. She was lost. 

“Never mind. So, where are you off to?” Don took advantage of her confusion to move away from the judgment that had just slipped from his mouth. It was true, though. She was so different from the females that lived here. She was ordinary. Not a SoCal Asian clone. Extraordinary in not following the standard. She had minimal makeup. Not highly concerned with her appearance. She wore a ponytail. She wore an apple watch! She clearly had no inclination to fit the stylish convention that the rest of the clones followed. She appeared to have a slow, airheaded quality to her. Who is this girl? He wished he had the words to describe to her how refreshing she was. 

“Well, not much planned for today. I was going to a cafe to meet with some friends. You should check this cafe out. You definitely have to become familiar with it if you’re going to live here.”

“What’s it called?”

“Stereoscope!”

Don knew of this cafe. He passed by it almost every day. He had been there maybe twice. He wasn’t shocked that she was a part of the cafe culture–which he despised–as he had heard her say that she liked living here, but he became heavily curious as to what her friends were like. Are they like her? Who would she even like?

“Sounds good, I’ll make sure to check it out. So, do you have a lot of friends around here? Is making friends around here easy?” What the hell is wrong with you? Don bit his lip in embarrassment. 

“Umm, yes? I would say it isn’t much different than anywhere else. I think people around here are more active and sociable. I really enjoy the people here, if that helps.” She was clearly caught off guard with the question, slightly raising one eyebrow, but her friendliness overweighed it. “Since you’re this friendly, you shouldn’t have any issues making friends. Just keep on going up and talking to strangers! You’ll quickly find your bunch.” Her face was so softly hopeful. Nothing blaring or bold. God, she’s amazing.

Don chuckled. “Does that actually work?”

“I mean, you did it with me. I would say we're friends now!” She gave him two thumbs up, giggling with slight nervousness, her teeth clenching her bottom lip. Who is this girl? Maybe she was right. That all it took was to get to know people. To give them a conversation. A chance. If her friends were as jolly as her, and there were people who could actually be unique, though nothing about her screamed unique apart from her lack of desire to fit the convention, then he would consider giving such people a try. Her eyes made life seem more possible to experience. 

“Yes. Friends.” 

Don finished packing up his things. All the boxes were in order, ready for the U-Haul truck that was to arrive soon. He sat down on his musty couch, inhaling his last fumes of ramen and egg, for he knew this scent was to be forgotten, soon to be overtaken by the sewer smells of Manhattan. He rested his head back, exhaling his last breaths of California. He saw her almost everyday riding that bike down. He wondered what life could have been like in her world. To be in her life. To have her friends be his friends. To have her in his life. To have her life. He wondered who she was. He had many regrets about his lifestyle in California, but the whole thought of Ines, or whatever her name could be, may have been the biggest one.