KOOL-AID: i didn’t know you were seventeen

Another instalment of Almost Drank the Kool-aid…

It’s been three days since the whole pond-falling incident. Yes, that’s how I’m referring to my suicide attempt.

Today was visited by Landlord. Did wonder if he was “checking in.” To see if was still alive. No, that can’t be true. Because he would have come sooner, no?

Cripes — am I pissed he didn’t come sooner? How needy is that? Suppose is reasonable. He’s closest person, geographically to me. Is my only connection to humanity. Gruff doesn’t count. He’s barely human.

Any hoo. Landlord knocks, I answer. Had bag of clothes. Washed and folded. Slight embarrassment. Landlord has touched my delicates. Bra and undies, sitting there on the top. Humiliation!

Welcomed him with a wave of the hand. Looked like one of those Price is Right girls. And here’s your new car…

No sitting. Hovering near doorway. For escape.

Could not repay the favour to Landlord. Have not washed clothes. But wanted to communicate to Landlord that have not washed his clothes.

Got out phone to type in Notes: Sorry. Do not have your clothes yet.

‘Ah, well, yes, ____, was thinking if, ah, I have a key, you see, if you needed to pop to the house, ah, see. To do your washing and such like. Ah, yes, see. So I’ll, ah, leave you with the key, yes, and, ah, yes, I’ve left my number on a card here, yes, see, if you, ah, need anything, but, ah, you know, you can text me rather than call, obviously.’

Are you bored yet? Cripes alive I was by the end of it. Spit it out, I wanted to scream at him. Skip to the end!! But he was nervous. Actually felt body vibrate when he handed key card over.

(Side now: was was actually just thick piece of paper with number typed on it. Not business card type scenario.)

Thought Landlord was leaving. He actually walked to door and opened it. But then he turned. Face (what could see of it) ashen.

‘About when we met one another, _____…’

Held breath. What was he going to say?

‘I never would have, you know, if I knew you were seventeen. I need you to know that.’

His face reddened. He swallowed. He left.

Wondered if he thought I thought he was a nonce all these years. Otherwise why bring it up? Hadn’t, mind. Not at all. Was not like had looked like a child at seventeen. Was quite womanly.

And what’s wrong with kissing a seventeen year old, any way?

Has Landlord worried about his actions the moment he discovered was seventeen? Is he a highly principled, moral type?

But wait — how does he know I was seventeen? Who could have told him? Gruff only person we have in common, and he doesn’t know of our history. Something to investigate.

Something else to find out: does this mean Landlord regrets kissing me back then? Would be very said if he regretted a kiss I found so incredibly intense that have used it as the benchmark for all other kisses.

Is like re-writing history, and you’re supposed to all of a sudden accept the new scenario. But no. Not accepting it.

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