There is Always a Reason to Make Friends With Your Neighbor
Even if you are relatively responsible for the reason
From time immemorial I have always tried to be friendly with my neighbors. My reasoning has followed this guideline: “I must not think of my neighbors as monsters or bad beasts because since I am also a neighbor they will in turn think of me as a monster or a bad beast.” This sociable line of thinking comprises the virtue of putting me in the mildest of moods in my almost daily dealings with my neighbors.
I never forget to arm myself with the best of my smiles when I cross paths with them and the good morning Paco, good afternoon Lola and good evening Manolo at all times are ready to shoot out of my mouth before they open their mouths.
I am going to tell you the most recent reason for my friendship with my neighbor that has occurred in my life.
Isabel is a single mother in her second youth with the burden of two children on her back. Africa is 9 years old and Milan is 6 years old. Since divorcing her husband 5 years ago Isabel earns child support money from her ex plus a little extra income from cleaning houses three times a week for half time.
She barely has enough to pay her bills. But Isabel has not stood idly by in the face of her precarious financial situation. She has been studying for almost a year to become a gardener. Isabel and her two children live in a first-floor house just below the second floor I live on.
The first thing I do after dinner is empty into the toilet the water from the air conditioner that drips at a regular rate into a plastic carafe that I have located on one side of the balcony just above where Isabel studies her opposition on a little table attached to the door of her house.
One night three weeks ago it happened to me, as the devil would have it, that just when I had the carafe almost full of water in my hand, I kept the handle in my hand and the container fell on the floor of the balcony, spilling 4 or 5 glasses of water on Isabel’s head and papers respectively. She looked up with eyes blazing with fury and I fled into the apartment.
The next morning, when I saw Isabel a dozen meters away with her two children about to go into her house, I called her. I wanted to apologize for what had happened the night before. I took a few strides to get closer to her and when I had her in front of me Africa on the left flank gave me a good kick in the shin of my right leg and Milan on the right flank with his soccer boots gave me another beautiful kick in the shin of my left leg.
I didn’t say anything because suddenly my gift of speech was cut off and Isabel’s mouth I guess for comfort I didn’t say anything either and when I could open my eyes there was no trace of her left. I sat for a while in the chair where Isabel sits to study her opposition.
This sole state of being relatively responsible for Isabel’s anger with me plus the two large bruises distributed between my right leg and left leg frankly did not make me feel very good. So much so that I decided to keep the air conditioner off and not fix the handle on the plastic carafe.
That way I wouldn’t have to worry about going out to the balcony to empty the water from the almost full jug into the toilet bowl just as Isabel was sitting at the entrance of her house studying the opposition. How hot as hell it was inside the apartment!
You can imagine: me sitting on my couch in 40 degrees in the shade watching a black and white Chaplin movie and the damn Cardinals playing alternately giving me somewhat prolonged twinges. I was laughing and crying at the same time at my poor luck.
But that hell of heat without air conditioning no creature could stand it for long. Then I thought seriously about two options that came to my mind: 1. the possibility of fixing the handle of the plastic carafe. 2. to go to a Chinese store and buy a more consistent plastic carafe.
I did the latter and started the air conditioner. What a relief inside the apartment! That night while maneuvering the new plastic carafe on the balcony no incident occurred and glancing downstairs I was pleased to see Isabel concentrating on her opposition study.
The night before I had slept like a bear with honey and when I looked out on the balcony and opened my eyes to a new morning, the first thing I did was to remove a big eye-lash in one eye, and the next thing I saw how a man with a beard was installing a small awning of thick plastic-coated fabric just above where Isabel is studying her opposition.
Because of the previous incident, Isabel now didn’t trust me very much. This made me a little sad. But at the same time, I was also quite glad that this prevention of Isabel’s giving me more freedom to maneuver with the plastic carafe every night while she beneath me could study more protected.
In the back of my mind, however, there kept looming the dismay of feeling relatively responsible for Isabel’s continued anger at me. I would not give up. I would befriend Isabel — and boy, would I ever!
Since I was aware that if I approached her again to apologize nothing would come out of her mouth and immediately Africa on the left flank would give me a nice kick on the right ankle and Milan on the right flank with his soccer boots would give me another beautiful kick on the left ankle; I took action by deciding not to approach her for the time being.
But I would resort to a foolproof trick. First I would make friends with Africa and Milan by giving them gifts they couldn’t resist. And once I had paved the way, how easy it would be to take Isabel to the best restaurant in town for dinner…
Africa obtained a Barbie Signatura doll ($115). Milan obtained a Playstation 5 ($583). Isabel obtained a dinner at a MICHELIN restaurant ($170). From here on those two BAD BEASTS respected my shins and Isabel’s MONSTER introduced me to her biography.
