things went,” Mom said, speaking my thoughts.
“He may be embarrassed,” Dad suggested. “It’s possible we won’t see him for awhile.”
That brought me out of my introspection. Dad was right. Mitch was proud – I didn’t know much about him yet, but I did know that. “Do you think he won’t want to see me ?”
“Oh, Pumpkin Pie, I’m sure he’ll want to see you, but he may be too embarrassed for awhile. Be patient – let him figure it out in his own way, in his own time. I mean, as long as it all comes out right in the end, that’s all that matters. Your Mom and I certainly don’t bear him any grudge. But you have to admit, it’s not a usual situation.”
“Well, I should hope not,” Mom nodded emphatically. “Neighbors robbing you blind. There’d be no society if that were usual .”
Obviously, Mom did not share Dad’s complete coolness with the situation. She was angry. There was a good chance she’d say something to Mitch if he did come by, before she got over it. I went from wishing with all my heart that Mitch would call or stop by, to hoping with all my might that he wouldn’t for a few days until things settled. As long as everyone kept saying Mitch couldn’t be held responsible for something he didn’t know about, I believed it’d eventually be okay. And I’d be okay with Mom being all weird if she wanted to hold him responsible in some way – as long as she kept it to herself.
* *
I got my wish. For days I didn’t hear or see sight or sound of anyone in the neighboring apartment. Eventually Dad asked if we’d had seen or heard Mitch or his mother. Mom and I shook our heads.
Then Dad knocked me for a loop by saying, “maybe they’ve moved.”
My heart sank. It was a possibility. “But if they were living here rent-free,” I argued, “ could they leave?”
Dad gave me a studied look, like, when’d you get so smart? “You make an excellent point. But if they’re there, they sure know how to lie low. And if they moved, they could hardly take anything down this hall without us being aware of it. They might have gone to stay with someone, though. Until the dust settles.”
“Days go by without seeing most of our neighbors, and we don’t think anything of that,” I said.
“True,” Dad agreed. “So they’re probably still there, you’re right.”
The idea of Mitch having moved without even saying good-by stuck in me like a painful sliver. Could he do that? Would he? What if I never saw him again? Why didn’t I just go knock on his door? Why was that so hard for me? One reason was because I had called him and texted him several times, and he did not answer. Anyway, never mind the phone. I wanted to see him!
The next day I was so miserable, I decided I had to take action. I knew what I had to do. After school I didn’t even stop at my apartment, I went straight to his door and knocked. It took every ounce of my courage. I stood in front of the peep hole so that, if anyone was there, they’d know exactly who was on the other side of the door.
No one answered, but I heard a faint stirring inside. I waited a full minute, then knocked again. And stood my ground.
Finally the door opened a crack, with the chain on. It was dark on the other side of the door, and I could not make out anyone.
“What do you want, little neighbor girl?” a woman’s voice asked. It was thick with the accent I loved about Mitch’s voice, although his was much less pronounced. The sound caught in my heart.
“I want to talk with Mitch.”
“He is not here.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He has been gone for days.”
“You don’t know? Aren’t you worried about him?”
“He can take care of himself. He knows what he’s doing. He’s at a... what’s it called, crossroads. It’s his journey. He’s in God’s hands.”
“Well, I’m worried about him.” I have no idea what made me so
“He may be embarrassed,” Dad suggested. “It’s possible we won’t see him for awhile.”
That brought me out of my introspection. Dad was right. Mitch was proud – I didn’t know much about him yet, but I did know that. “Do you think he won’t want to see me ?”
“Oh, Pumpkin Pie, I’m sure he’ll want to see you, but he may be too embarrassed for awhile. Be patient – let him figure it out in his own way, in his own time. I mean, as long as it all comes out right in the end, that’s all that matters. Your Mom and I certainly don’t bear him any grudge. But you have to admit, it’s not a usual situation.”
“Well, I should hope not,” Mom nodded emphatically. “Neighbors robbing you blind. There’d be no society if that were usual .”
Obviously, Mom did not share Dad’s complete coolness with the situation. She was angry. There was a good chance she’d say something to Mitch if he did come by, before she got over it. I went from wishing with all my heart that Mitch would call or stop by, to hoping with all my might that he wouldn’t for a few days until things settled. As long as everyone kept saying Mitch couldn’t be held responsible for something he didn’t know about, I believed it’d eventually be okay. And I’d be okay with Mom being all weird if she wanted to hold him responsible in some way – as long as she kept it to herself.
* *
I got my wish. For days I didn’t hear or see sight or sound of anyone in the neighboring apartment. Eventually Dad asked if we’d had seen or heard Mitch or his mother. Mom and I shook our heads.
Then Dad knocked me for a loop by saying, “maybe they’ve moved.”
My heart sank. It was a possibility. “But if they were living here rent-free,” I argued, “ could they leave?”
Dad gave me a studied look, like, when’d you get so smart? “You make an excellent point. But if they’re there, they sure know how to lie low. And if they moved, they could hardly take anything down this hall without us being aware of it. They might have gone to stay with someone, though. Until the dust settles.”
“Days go by without seeing most of our neighbors, and we don’t think anything of that,” I said.
“True,” Dad agreed. “So they’re probably still there, you’re right.”
The idea of Mitch having moved without even saying good-by stuck in me like a painful sliver. Could he do that? Would he? What if I never saw him again? Why didn’t I just go knock on his door? Why was that so hard for me? One reason was because I had called him and texted him several times, and he did not answer. Anyway, never mind the phone. I wanted to see him!
The next day I was so miserable, I decided I had to take action. I knew what I had to do. After school I didn’t even stop at my apartment, I went straight to his door and knocked. It took every ounce of my courage. I stood in front of the peep hole so that, if anyone was there, they’d know exactly who was on the other side of the door.
No one answered, but I heard a faint stirring inside. I waited a full minute, then knocked again. And stood my ground.
Finally the door opened a crack, with the chain on. It was dark on the other side of the door, and I could not make out anyone.
“What do you want, little neighbor girl?” a woman’s voice asked. It was thick with the accent I loved about Mitch’s voice, although his was much less pronounced. The sound caught in my heart.
“I want to talk with Mitch.”
“He is not here.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He has been gone for days.”
“You don’t know? Aren’t you worried about him?”
“He can take care of himself. He knows what he’s doing. He’s at a... what’s it called, crossroads. It’s his journey. He’s in God’s hands.”
“Well, I’m worried about him.” I have no idea what made me so
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