From time to time, after the graveyard is locked (which is usually around sunset), and I’ve had dinner and settled into my pyjamas, enjoying an episode of some sort of crime-solving show (yes, I love them) and perhaps a glass of wine, there is a knock at our front door. This is almost never a good sign: and I do confess to feeling varying shades of irritation, depending on how much I have to alter my attire in order to answer the door appropriately dressed.
On this one particular occasion, I heard the ominous (well, tentative, really) knock on the door and sighed. Donning track pants and a jumper, I grumpily trudged downstairs and opened the door. Staring back at a me was a clearly uncomfortable teenage boy, around 15 or 16 years old.
“Uh, um, err, the graveyard is, urm, locked, and I, uh, was wondering if you could, err, let us out?” he stammered awkwardly. I looked behind him, and saw the outline of a teenage girl. Even in the darkness, her anger was evident. My own anger melted, and I tried to be as sympathetic as I could through explaining how to open the side gate from the inside. He nodded, thanked me profusely, and I closed the door, chuckling a little to myself. Poor guy, I thought as I walked back up the stairs to my scheduled programming. I once again got settled in my pyjamas, and sat down. Just as I did, the door knocked again. Oh Come On!,I thought, how could there be more than one incident in one night? Second confession: I genuinely considered not answering the door this time, but guilt got the better of me and I got up, donned appropriate clothing, and trudged even more grumpily down the stairs for a second time.
Throwing open the door, I was once again confronted by the young man from 15 minutes ago, now also bright red and maybe 10 times more uncomfortable than last time.
“I, urm, couldn’t figure out how to open the gate. I’m uh, really sorry. Could you please open it for me?” he said, this time not even able to look me in the face. I once again looked behind him, and was able to see his female friend (who was now standing in the light) leaning against the gate, and looking at her watch. I threw on my ugg boots, and trying a few times to make a joke or lighten the mood as we walked toward the gate. His discomfort and embarrassment was so palpable that I just gave up saying anything at all and walked more quickly. There was complete silence as I opened the gate, and the two would-be lovers walked through without saying a word, either to me or to each other. Once free, the young man tried (valiantly, I thought) to make a plan for another date.
“So, uh, I’ll call you? We were gonna go to that thing this weekend, what time do you…”
“Yeah I dunno, I’m not sure…” she said vaguely, cutting him off. “I think I’m just gonna head home now and we’ll see.” He tried to lean in, for a kiss or hug, I’m not sure which, but she turned her back on him and almost ran down the street. He looked after her forlornly for a few seconds; then turned, saw me still standing there. Turning bright red again, he threw himself on his bike, pedalling away as fast as his awkward legs could carry him. Poor guy, I thought once again. And when I was sure he was out of earshot, I laughed until I cried.
#cottagelife 