Sunny Days

I’ve never been a fan of sunshine. Or warm weather in general, I suppose. When it’s sunny outside, people always insist you go outside and do things, be productive, and whatnot. In spring especially, there are always people outside frolicking in the grass, admiring blossoming trees, laughing with each other, and looking far too happy for their own good. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t even a little jealous.

I prefer when the weather is what all the happy people consider “bad”. Pouring rain, blizzard, clouds, even just chilly. 

So, on sunny days, instead of venturing out into the fizzy world of boisterous laughter and volleyball games near cherry blossom trees in the park, I stay inside. I shut the light out with thick, heavy blue curtains and hope that maybe, the sun will go away. 

I don’t like the sun. No, not at all. Because the sun is joyful and active and everything moves far too quickly for my liking.

__

I’ve never felt like a particularly remarkable person- average on all accounts, really. Maybe a little shy, but every person has their flaws, right? Flaws can be overlooked. 

Lucky for me, I live alone, and work a job where nobody needs to see my face and say, “Nice work, Sude! Just edit this part here…”

Life in the apartment gets a little lonely at times, but that’s to be expected. After all, the space is slightly too big (it was really meant for two people), but whatever. I don’t really want a roommate, and it’s not like I have any friends. On that note- I don’t really get out much. I’ve never been one for interaction in the first place, but now that my school years are over, there’s no real necessity for it either. I do my work, get groceries, and that’s about all I can handle.

__

Throughout the day, there’s been a sort of strange clunking coming from next door, interrupted by intermittent “Ow!”s.

Maybe someone’s moving in?

__

At exactly 8:37 PM, there’s a rhythmic knock, knock, knock on the door that holds far too much excitement to be a deliveryman.

Anxiety builds in my stomach as the silence following the knock fills my living room. Today really isn’t a “good interaction day” for me, so instead of getting the door, I have to hope that maybe they’ll go away.

And yet, to my chagrin, the person does not go away. Instead, they knock again, a little more insistent than before.

The anxiety grows in my stomach as I stand from the couch on wobbly knees and make my way over to the door, and my hands shake as I unlock it and pull the handle to release it from the frame.

A man stands in the doorway across from me, and the moment he realizes the door is open, he cracks a smile. Well, he starts beaming, and his grin is so large and bright I consider shielding my eyes. It’s almost like the sun decided that it had had enough of being shut out and came to visit me, straight at my door.

“Um.. hello?” I say. It’s weaker than I wanted, but better than standing frozen, I suppose.

“Hi!” he responds, and holds out his hand for me to shake. I take a deep breath and take it. His hand is surprisingly large, and his callused palm completely encloses my hand.

“What’s your name?” he asks, pulling away from the handshake. His voice is loud, deep, and it has a specific timbre that cuts through the air with little resistance.

“Sude,” I answer, slightly curling in on myself. 

“Nice to meet you! I’m Graham! Oh, but you can just call me Andy, if you want!” somehow, his enthusiastic smile grows bigger after his introduction.

“Nice to meet you too, Graham,” I opt not to use the nickname (because his name strangely suits him perfectly).

“Ah! So, anyway! I just moved in next door, and do you maybe want to come over for dinner?” the question comes out of the blue, but the shine in his eyes makes it hard to say no.

“Sure, what time?” my answer surprises me, both with its firmness and my agreement.

“Meet you in ten?”

I nod and shut the door.

__

Ten minutes later, I’m at Graham’s door (hopefully looking a little more presentable in a yellow dress and having combed hair) holding a plastic container of melon slices. It’d be rude to turn up without anything, right?

I knock on the door (my knock isn’t anything like Graham’s-- it’s rather timid, but it gets the job done), and it’s open before I can even retract my hand.

“Well don’t just stand there, come on in!” Graham exclaims, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into his (surprisingly neat) apartment. I toe off my shoes in the entryway and follow him further into the space, careful not to slip on the hardwood floor. 

“I- uh, I brought melon?” it comes out as a question instead of a statement, but Graham still seems to understand, and looks delighted at the simple gesture. 

“Awesome! You can just set it on the table- dinner’s almost ready!”

A few minutes later, Graham brings out two steaming plates of (what appears to be) curry. He carefully steps around the table to deposit a plate in front of me before taking his seat.

I’m not a big fan of starting conversations- so instead, I take a mouthful of curry and let out a surprised hum when the combination of flavors hits my tongue.

“You like it?” Graham asks, flashing a (smaller) smile in my general direction before reaching for the melon.

I simply nod my head and take another mouthful. The anxiety from earlier seems to be calming down (luckily).

Maybe I’ll get better at this whole “interaction” thing eventually.

He straightens in his seat and thoughtfully munches on a piece of melon before opening his mouth to speak again.

“Thanks for having dinner with me, by the way! I tried asking my other neighbor to come over too, but I think the guy was too tired to think straight. Hopefully he gets some sleep… but anyway! Sude! Tell me about yourself!” his eyes sparkle at the last part, and he leans forward with interest. 

“Well,” I reply (with a little hesitation), “there honestly isn’t much to know about me. Is there anything in particular you wanted to find out?”

So, with that, a night of smiles and lopsided conversation (his voice is always slightly too loud, while mine doesn’t quite carry the way I want it to) begins. Even as the melon runs out and we scrape our plates clean, we continue talking. The conversation continues as the dishes grow cold on the table, it continues as we stand to wash the dishes, and it continues as our sleeves drip with soapy water. Speaking with Graham feels comfortable- like I’ve known him for longer than a few hours.

My anxiety completely evaporates and I seem to forget about my poor interaction skills in my time with Graham.

Alas, all too soon, the night is over. After a few yawns and an awkward goodbye, I slip back into my apartment (which lacks the bright energy of Graham’s) and get ready for bed.

__

When I wake up, it’s gloomy, and the clouds are a deep shade of gray, promising a thunderstorm later. Perfect weather for grocery shopping? I think so.

__

It appears that Graham has the same idea, because we step out of our apartments at the exact same time. He offers me a bright smile (far too bright for 10:30 on a Sunday) and we walk to the elevator together, chatting all the way. The conversation is as lively as last night, even as we descend and exit the lobby doors. 

__

“Do you want to have dinner again tonight?” I ask in the elevator on the way back from the store.

Graham turns his head in surprise, and offers a small smile (yet it still brightens the whole room). 

“Sure! Want me to bring anything?”

“Oh, no! I’ll cook!”

“Okay! What time?”

“8:30?”

“Sounds good to me!”

“See you later, Graham,”

“Bye, Sude!”

We walk into our respective apartments and shut the doors.

__

Graham always loved the sunshine. Well, he loved any weather, really, but especially sunshine. When he was younger and it was sunny outside, people would always insist he go outside and do things, be productive, and just be helpful. He was the kind of person that would love and love, without really needing anything back. So, of course, he’d oblige, and do anything he could to assist others under the burning heat of the sun.

Now that he’s grown a bit, he’s found his own way to appreciate the clear and warm weather. His favorite season is spring- and it’s fitting, right? Graham is one of the “grass-frolickers” as Sude puts it. He’s one of the people that are admiring blossoming trees, laughing with each other, and looking far too happy for their own good. 

So, on sunny days, Graham opens his dark red curtains wide, unlatches the window, and gives the world a large grin, because sunny days are his favorite days of all.

__

It’s 8:30, and the meal sits on the table, piping hot, while dessert chills in the fridge. Graham enters the apartment with his ever-present smile and takes off his sweater (he didn’t bother wearing shoes, since we live less than fifteen feet from each other), placing it on the couch. 

“Wow, this smells amazing!” he says, venturing into the kitchen.

“Thanks,” I reply, “do you want anything to drink?”

“Tea, if you have any,” Graham answers. 

His smile softens into a more comfortable expression as he settles at the table and serves two portions of food- one for me, and one for him. It’s rushed, yet still careful- endearing, in a way. It’s silly, really, how he fails to pick up a lamb chop with tongs, but he eventually manages to produce two solid plates of food.

I join him with the drinks (chamomile tea for him, and mint tea for me), thanking him for serving the food, before digging in. He hums and quickly swallows- its evident he’s about to say something. Maybe it’s about the food? 

He starts, “Wow, Sude! This is-” a clap of thunder (rudely) interrupts him.

Guess the thunderstorm from earlier finally decided to show up.

I do my best to hold in a laugh, and I motion for him to continue talking.

He clears his throat before trying again.

“This is so good! I mean- I’ve never had mashed potatoes like this before! And, oh my God! How did you manage to make green beans taste good?”

Graham takes another bite before animatedly gesturing with his fork as he chews. He swallows before continuing.

“And the lamb? Where do I even begin?”

He speaks quickly and without much thought, but I’m flattered nonetheless. And, before I know it, I release the pent-up laughter.

His chatter stops for a moment.

“Whoa, Sude!”

“What?”

“Did you just laugh?”

“Um… yes?” my cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“You should totally do that again!”

“Pfft, what?”

This sets off another round of laughter for both of us.

This night turns out much like the previous one- just with the addition of dessert, more splashing of soapy water (thanks to Graham “accidentally” dropping his plate in the sink), and copious amounts of laughter.

__

Later in the evening, as I hold back a yawn, I wave Graham to the door.

“Go, we both have work tomorrow,” I say.

“Yeah, and?”

“We can do something this weekend. I’ll show you around town or something,”

“Aww, fine. Night, then, Sude,”

“Good night, Graham,”

I shut the door in his face, and I make sure he can hear my laughter through the wood.

__

Any plans for Saturday are thrown out the window, because Graham knocks on my door Thursday afternoon. Before I get the chance to say anything, he’s already closed (and locked!) the door behind him, grabbed my wrist, and started running us down the hallway. Instead of anxiety, though, there’s a sort of strange excitement in the pit of my stomach- I’m not sure what it could be classified as. Butterflies, perhaps? 

“Come on, Sude! The weather’s perfect today! We gotta do something!”

“Whoa, slow down, Graham! What do you mean?”

He pulls us into the stairwell and jumps down quite a few stairs (pulling me along).

“I mean, it’s the warmest sunny day we’ve had all year!”

I nearly stop in my tracks.

“You mean to tell me that you pulled me from my apartment to go spend a day out in the sun?”

“Precisely!”

He readjusts his grip on my hand as we make it out of the stairwell and into the lobby.

“Are you out of your mind?”

He stops, drops my hand, and turns around.

“Come on, Sude! You can’t just stay inside forever! Plus, it’ll be fun!” he says.

“I hate the sun,”

“Come on, one day isn’t going to hurt! We can even get ice cream,”

I sigh and let him pull us out of the lobby and out of the building (more out of a lack of energy to protest than actual agreement). 

We step into the blinding glow of the mid-afternoon sun, and I feel warm as Graham drags us towards whatever destination he has in mind.

I still hate sunny weather, but Graham's presence makes it a little more bearable.