Closed Mouths Don’t Get Fed

By the way the man tapped on the door, you’d suspect he was a bit apprehensive. He stood tall and lanky; with tanned face that proved he spent more time knocking on doors than inside of them. He was taking a fresh new approach to the buyers market. 

Mr. Case only gave a few moments before he began descending down the stairs; and onward with his solicitations.  

The woman peered through the peephole and opened the door to see his back turned away from her.

She smiled to herself; as she often did. Before he made his turn for escape, she added volume to her voice and shouted, 

“Aren’t you a little bit old for ding dong ditch?”

Her question stopped him from taking another step. Mr. Case may have been down on his luck for some time now, but he was not an impolite or ill mannered man. He prided himself on tradition.

“Hello there, ma’am. How are you doing today?”

“Fine.”, she gave a quick smile and a nod.

“ You don’t know me.. but I want to give you a firsthand look at an exciting opportunity. Do you have a moment?”

“What are you selling? Girl Scout cookies..?”

“I wish it were that easy.. those girls take in more money than I would know what to do with..”

“Come in..”

“I want to know something...” Aidan prompted her salesman to respond. She was folding laundry in a large pile and tucked each item away in a cubby.

“It’ll cost you.”, replied the salesman. 

She just turned her head upward and back; as if to look at him and cast a stone of judgement without saying a word.  

She followed by saying,  

“Well, that’s a given. What more could I expect from a man; so influenced by opportunity that he knocks on its door?”

Aidan moved around the room as if she were floating. She was wearing a white satin robe that slinked off of her shoulder on one side. Her hair was golden honey, and in a messy up-do.  

Mr. Case watched her; with a relaxed demeanor that remained unobtrusive. Aidan graciously danced around the octagon shaped living room.

Mr. Case was so bewildered by her, he had neglected to realize that she had been clearing a space for him. She waved him on to come sit down.

Once positioned comfortably, Aidan sat across from him and sipped her coffee.

“I want to know how much money does it take to buy happiness?”

Mr Case did a polite chuckle that could have been mistaken as a choke.  

“ Go figure...I thought you were going to ask me what was inside my shiny briefcase.” The salesman pet his open palmed hand along the surface of the smooth, Italian-made leather. He slowly pulled his eyes upward.

Aidan waited until the salesman looked up to roll her eyes. She caught a smell of cedar with a whiskey finish from his cologne.. from his mouth.

“Mr. Case.. please don’t insult me. Im not aware of how many doors youve knocked on before mine opened for you. To my knowledge, you could have made several sales.. you could be in a far better position than me. Looks are often deceiving. Speaking fortNevertheless, I admire your resilience. You must have resilience to be in your line of work. It takes a strong character to go to a strangers home and strike up a conversation with no clue on how well you’ll be received. I mean, you could knock on a door, and end up a floor mat. And no one would even know your name...”

“Thanks for the pep talk. Now, what was your question again?”

She cupped her chin and smiled sweetly at him.

“I want to know how much does happiness cost?”

He began to internalize the question. The salesman scanned many answers before he replied, 

“Do you like your life, Miss...?”

“Larkin. And yes, I do. Of course, there’s always a drive inside me to desire for more.. but I suppose that’s where you come in. And since I have accepted you for what and who you are assuming to be.. would it be that strange of you to assume that you will make the sale?”

“No. I guess the hardest parts over.. but I haven’t even mentioned what I’m in the business of.”

“It doesn’t much matter.. whether a subscription for cutlery or a vacuum of the century.. makes no difference. A good salesman doesn’t sell his product. He sells himself.”

“Miss Larkin, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were hitting on me.” The salesman had a grin that postulated flattery.

Coyly, the woman stood up; aloof to his inquiry. As she saw it, he had no business asking for anything until her question had been acknowledged by an honest reply. So, in an attempt to remind him of his initial omission, she remained performing her mid-morning routine. This consisted of coffee (above all else- being the backbone of her hindsight and mindfulness). Aidan filled her kettle for two, and poured a pinch of baileys in each mug. Along with the liqueur, she drizzle caramel sauce around the inside of the cups, added a spoonful of sugar and awaited the pot’s whistle.  

While examining her nails by the stovetop, he asked why the silent treatment.  

“By the way, I meant no offense in what I said. You’re just an easy person to talk to. It feels like I know you.. I should be more considerate and professional. You see.. this suit and tie and dress shoes demeanor... this shaven face and cologne is new. It’s all new. I am no more a salesman than you are amused.”

She spoke up without looking over at him.  

“I just wanted you to answer me.. remember? What’s the price for happiness?”

“A price? Somewhere between never there and never enough. And when it’s all said and done, I’ll bet it’s priced at the same rate as most two dollar beer bottles. The sidewalks remain littered with messages that were never fully said. And the possessors of these secrets fade away in the happiness of the cold, winter streets.

I’ve had my share of picks at poisons. They can comfort as much as they take away. Soon, home feels more like a strangers embrace.. awkward and unconvincing. I don’t have a home. I don’t remember mine either, but I do know that home is priceless. Happiness is conditional.. and money is depreciating.”

She nodded and the kettle began to blow. She withdrew it from the fire, turned off the stovetop and poured thee we boiling water into a French press with fresh and finely ground coffee beans.  

After a couple of minutes spent in silence, she poured a cup for her guest and one for herself.  

He drank the candy like hot beverage down, and then it was gone.