Spelling bee

Balancing a plate of cookies with one hand, I knocked on the heavy wooden door with the other. For a long moment, silence reigned, broken only by the faint shuffling of feet from the apartment next to the Millers. Thinking the young woman I’d only seen in passing might not be home, I sighed in disappointment and turned to leave.

The other families in the complex had mentioned that she was a beautiful young woman, often seen only in the early mornings or late afternoons. She barely had conversations, even with the people working at the convenience store. Of course, we all respected each other’s space, but we also wanted to know the new neighbor's name, especially since you never know who might be living near you these days.

As I had been recently sick, I had too much time in bed to watch the news, and I’d become prone to watching crime shows. One was about a murderer who had been killing his family one by one with a hammer. Another was even sadder and more melancholy a little girl had vanished from her parents’ summer house while playing near the water. Theories suggested she might have wandered into the deep forest behind the house, been taken by someone passing through, or drowned. The thought of the last one always made me shiver, imagining the little green eyed girl underwater, cold and alone. I blamed the parents who would leave such a precious child outside all alone? Then perhaps it was simply better that she might have ended up in a better home with someone who deserved to have a child.

Just then, I heard the click of a lock, followed by the creak of the door sliding open. I immediately composed myself, like a performer preparing for the show.

“Miss Miller,” I greeted politely as the striking beauty peeked out, her expression curious. She had long hazel hair, a round, soft face, and deep, golden brown eyes.

“Hi… um?”

“Oh, it’s Tina Thompson, your upstairs neighbor,” I explained quickly, offering a warm smile.

Her features relaxed, and she returned the smile. “Oh, hello, Miss Thompson. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I just wanted to officially welcome you to the apartment complex,”

I said, holding up the plate of cookies. “I would have come sooner, but you’ve been so hard to come by! All of us have been trying to bring you welcome gifts for weeks now.”

Her smile deepened, dimples appearing. “My apologies. It’s taken me some time to get everything up and feel settled.”

“I can imagine. It took me a whole year to finally be happy with my own decorations,” I said with a chuckle.

She smiled sweetly but didn’t further the conversation. Feeling the silence grow overwhelming, I decided to just give the present and accept that the young lady loved her solitude.

“Well then,” I bit my lip, not wanting to disturb her further. “Here are some chocolate chip cookies. I hope they are to your liking.”

She seemed to think for a second as she held the plate of cookies.

“I actually made some coffee, and I’m honestly desperate for an adult to talk to.”

I hoped the invitation wasn’t a forced one out of politeness.

“As long as I’m not intruding,” I hesitated, not wanting to come across as pushy.

“No, please,” she said, stepping aside so I could walk into the dimly lit apartment. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit me like a brick wall as the kitchen was located parallel to the entrance.

“Well then, thank you, Miss Miller.”

She only hummed a happy tone as she passed me into the kitchen.

In the process of taking off my snow covered boots, I couldn’t help but notice the multiple photos hanging in the hallway. Most of them were surrounded by detailed golden frames. Each picture featured a small child’s most important memories, it seemed. The child in the frames was a carbon copy of her mother. Bright and bubbly with brown curls and round cheeks. My eyes shifted from each of the photos, seeing the brown eyed child winning pageants, jumping in pools, playing board games, and winning spelling bees.

“Oh, that’s Melissa. She just turned ten,” Miss Miller spoke from the kitchen as she prepared a tray of coffee and cookies.

“You have a daughter?” My happiness peaked. I had longed for

children myself, and at my age, I feared that it was a bit too late to have a baby.

“Yes,” she chuckled.

“She looks very talented,” I commented, noting how most of the photos featured a new colorful band around the girl’s dresses or various sizes of medals.

“Oh, she is,” Miss Miller said with pride. “She loves being in the spotlight. She’s jumped ahead a year in school and won so many science fairs and spelling bees in her old school that my husband had to build three more shelves!”

“That is a very accomplished little girl at her age,” I said in awe. “And where is your husband?”

Miss Miller came out of the kitchen with a tray in hand, carrying two cups of coffee in delicately painted flowered cups and the chocolate chip cookies.

“Not with us, I’m afraid.”

“Oh no,” I said with sadness in my voice.

“You see, the reason for my move here was because of an accident. We were in the car all of us and we got hit from behind in a snow blizzard. My husband didn’t survive. Only me and my little girl.”

My heart dropped as I heard that, and I stepped closer to her to put a hand on her tense shoulder.

“I can’t imagine going through what you have, but trust me when I say this community is a safe one. Everyone helps everyone here.”

“Thank you, Miss Thompson. You warm my heart,” she said, handing me the tray. “Do you mind taking this for a bit? Melissa is in there watching cartoons. Since the car crash, she hasn’t been herself. I need to just tell her you’re here so she won’t be scared or confused.”

“Of course,” I nodded encouragingly. It couldn’t be easy to be a single parent, but at the moment, Miss Miller seemed to be handling it remarkably well.

She opened the closed living room door carefully before stepping inside. I could hear small whispers as she spoke. She came out shortly after, looking slightly stiff but smiling politely nonetheless. Her actions worried me slightly the way she acted was not normal; it was too stony and not human like.

“Well, Miss Thompson, she’s ready now.”

I raised my head and stepped forward into the dark living room that was only illuminated by the colorful figures of Sponge Bob on the TV screen.

There was indeed a tiny, dark haired girl curled up in a corner of the sofa, her arms hugging a pillow tightly. My heart sank as I saw how skinny she was compared to the photos of a healthier, more outgoing version of herself. I placed the tray on the table and stretched out my hand to greet her.

“Hello, Melissa. My name is Tina Thompson.”

The girl glanced up at me with big green eyes filled with sadness as she politely shook my hand. My heart sank, and my anger swelled. I had thought Miss Miller better than this.

“My name is Melissa…” the little girl spoke, but I could not help but let my smile falter.

“Miss Miller,” I spoke up.

“Yes?” she said gently, looking at me as she stood nearby, playing with the girl’s hair.

“Did you forget to put on the lenses again?”