Why do we need neighbors

Firdose waited for the footsteps to die away. Once she was sure her aunt was out of earshot and too far to return back lest she forgot an armlet, she dashed down the stairs and opened the box with a flourish, breathing in its satisfying aroma. The light from the fridge illuminated the counter as she chose her favorites. The eggs were chosen and placed on the counter without any second thoughts, and then she stepped back for a bit debating between the memen and çılbır. The killer mix of soft mushy eggs, tangy tomatoes and bitter green pepper was her all time favorite and it’s been a while since she had last closed her eyes and cherished this treasure. Yeah, memen was the king she decided. A lone candle sat on the counter as she chopped the tomatoes and hummed to herself. She seldom turned on electric bulbs. The flashy artificial being blinded her vision and marred the soothing ambiance. Also, the darkness kept her friendly telltale neighbors at bay.She enjoyed the feathery touch of the salty breeze on her freckled face and the sizzling melody as she cooked.

Her bedroom windowsill was just about the perfect size for her to sit by and place the pan laden with memen. She tore a piece of bread, dipped it in the memen and savored its taste. Today the dish had turned out to be more mouth watering than usual. It tasted divine like her childhood.

When she was about six, each morning her mother would call her ‘Firdose darling come down, breakfast is ready’.

Each morning she would not go down. She would sit by the windowsill like she was sitting now, legs folded to form a mount and stare out. She would look at the man walking down the street whose bag was unzipped or the lady who had broken her shoe heel and was now limping. She would clamp a hand on her mouth and a warm throaty ‘He He!’ would follow. Her mom fed up and angry with her childish bearing would send Esra to her room laden with breakfast ‘You never obey your mom Firu, you have become very naughty’. Firdose would giggle. Every day at 9:30 their plump neighbor who always wore flowery gowns would stick her head out and point a finger at her’ Firdose go down to your mom’. Firdose never liked her or any other neighbors.

Tonight though she sat on the windowsill, she could see nothing . The windows flapped like coat and clattered into the wall and the trees in the backyard swished and rustled. The lone candle’s flame danced hither- thither fighting the wind. It stood still for a moment as the wind settled; burning bright in its victory until with a great swish it was put off. The window near her spot closed with a great bang. Firdose took out a third piece of bread. She tore it off and dipped it in her reddish-yellow artwork. A bolt of lightning illuminated the garden beside her bedroom. Had her imagination gone wild or was there someone sitting on the ancient tree near the fence? No, perhaps it was just ‘Mino’ the neighborhood cat. What sane thief would sit on a tree rather than break into the house? She lifted the colored bread and put it in her mouth. ‘Mmmmm’ she hummed.

Someone coughed. Firdose sat stiff in her spot, her heart thumped loudly, her eyes wide-unblinking. She heard the rustle of leaves and somewhere an owl hooted. Was it a cat? But cats didn’t cough or if they did it wouldn’t sound like that . She stuck out her head. Then a strange eerie whistling rang out in the backyard- it was a spine-chilling music like a ghost song. The hair on her arms stood. The memen forgotten, Firdose stood hands trembling and fumbled around in her desk for her flashlight. When her palms encountered a cold plastic body, she immediately turned it on and directed it towards the whistle-blower. A painted paper white face with blood red lips that stretched the entire chin. Her teeths clattered and then she heard a cold desperate scream. Was she screaming? The white man smiled his cloudy eyes maniacally-euphoric. His yellow teeth and the blood red lips stretching father apart making him look if possible even more deranged. The flashlight clonked on the tiled floor; perhaps broken from the impact?Firdose bolted for the windows and locked them urgently. She then ran towards the opposite end of the room and groped for a light switch, hyperventilating. She stood there shaking, trembling, mumbling and waited for her eyes to adjust to the light. The whistling started again, its sound getting louder with each passing second. What should she do, whose help will she seek? Sweat broke down the back of her neck, her stomach turning over. Maybe she should not have eaten that much. What did the white man want? What had she done to him? The whistling stopped after a bit. Firdose grabbed her phone from the bedside table and dialed. The phone rang and then beeped’ Please leave a message after the beep’ it said.’ Aunt Selin please its urgent, please come home as soon as possible’.

Firdose then looked down at her contact list. Maybe Imran could help her? Two sharp taps were made on the window; Firdose yelped, jumped and ran down. She flicked the lights on her way, lighting up the entire house. She wished her ‘friendly’ neighbors would make an inquiry. She ran frantically around the house double checking each lock. She called her aunt again. ‘Please leave a message after the beep’. Maybe the friendly neighbors were near the window. ’Help, help me...Help help!!!’ but no help came. Did they go to the invitation like her aunt? She would have to ring Imran, he was her last hope.

‘Hey, buddy what’s up?’

‘I...I think there’s someone there in the ya...yard, Imran.’

Imran chuckled’ Nooooooo, no...this time around I won’t fall into your trap’ his lips slightly turned upwards to a side.

‘No...I am not bluffing, believe me, there’s someone there, wit...with a painted face....’

‘What?’ he chuckled again’ now the demon has a painted face?’

‘Imran please ...please I beg you, do you think I would beg you to come in this weather if it was all made up?’ she started to weep over the phone.

The line went quite for a moment, then ’ OK, OK I am coming, calm down and please stay put in the house’.

Firdose sat on the wooden chair of the dining hall, a large knife in one hand and eyes wide open. She drummed her fingers on the polished surface. The windows shook and quivered as the wind gained strength and whooshed. She would not know if the white man tried to knock again. Perhaps her aunt would not be able to return in this weather. Perhaps Imran would get stuck; perhaps a large tree had blocked the road!? What would happen if a tree fell on him? Was it safe to travel this far? A fierce lightening boomed and shook the house to the root and large droplets pelted on the glass window. Instantly, the house was covered in total darkness again. What should she do? She did not like the darkness anymore; maybe she won’t ever again like it.

But who could she chose? Imran? Her aunt? Friendly neighbors? or the knife? As if on cue, another thunder boomed through. So she chose the neighbors and the knife in her hand.

‘Hello, Imran, where are you?’

‘Yeah right, I don’t think you should come..It seems that he is gone.’

‘Yeah, don’t worry I will be alright.’ She hung up.

Most likely the white faced man would not stand in the rain. But what if tried to get in through the window? She wore her trainers and a helmet, took a pepper spray, put the phone in her jeans and held the knife tighter.

She took in a deep breath. Then, slowly and sneakily she opened the door.