Holly Part 3

    It's funny that when I lived in the same room as three other people, I dreamed of having my own room. Which is what it's like now because I haven't seen Mal since I moved in. I see signs of her. Once I left dishes to do when I got back from the market and they were cleaned and put away when I got home. The bathroom is never dirty, and I haven't cleaned it. Whenever I put laundry on the line, I find it folded and ready to be put away. It's nice but I feel lonely, and bored. I usually just sit with a cup of tea on my front porch and watch people walking by. 

   

I walk to the market and watch a group of friends chatting and gossiping and I yearn for that kind of companionship, but I don't have the confidence. It was so much easier when I was back home. When I went out into the Square and I would know everyone there. And they knew me; they'd known me all my life, and I'd known them all my life, and here I don't know anyone.

I think of a plan to try to make my roommate like me. I decide the best thing to do is to win her over with food because most people need to eat. I've never seen her eat but I'm assuming she does. It would be weird if she didn't eat, right? I mean, should I even be friends with someone who doesn't eat? I decide to make two of all my meals. I bring mine into my room and shut the door. I leave the other one in the kitchen. 

It doesn't work. When I'm done my meal and go back downstairs to clean my dishes, the meal is still there. So I put it away. The next day I try again, except this time I leave a note saying "I made a bit too much so I made a plate for you to enjoy *happy face*". I go hide in my room and eat my lunch. I come back downstairs and notice that the note is gone, but the food still hasn't been touched.

Some say I'm very stubborn, I say I'm persistent and determined. I decide that, regardless, I will continue doing this, because in my old household whenever someone made a meal they made enough for everyone. It makes me feel better to make another meal; it makes me feel like I have friends, even though no one's eating it. I start to make up stories in my head of why the meal was untouched; maybe she just went out to supper, or she's had a stomach bug, or maybe she's actually a vegetarian and doesn't eat fish.

Then one day, I come back to an empty plate. I check the garbage to make sure she didn't throw it out and pretend to eat it, just to be polite. That turns into our tradition, I guess. For the next few weeks each time I make a meal, I make two and the second one magically disappears. I decide to start taking my meals out to the front porch so I can watch the people go by. By the time I go back inside, the plate is clean.

Now that I've broken the first barrier, which was eating my food, I decide to break the next barrier with my secret weapon: tea. So every morning, afternoon, and evening, I make a pot of tea take out some biscuits, two cups, and knock on her door.

"Now I made some tea, would you like to join me? I have some biscuits… well, if you're interested, I'll be on the front porch."

I feel rather silly. I know that she might not even be in her room. She could be sneaking through the tunnels that make up the humongous mountain this cavern is in. She could be at the market, she could be on the roof, she could be anywhere else and here I am just knocking on the door of an empty room. I do it anyway, to fulfill what you could call a one-sided friendship, but a friendship nonetheless. 

The day she joins me on the porch she scares the shit out of me. I don't even hear the front door open; I only notice her when she starts to pour herself a cup of tea and grabs some biscuits. She doesn't say a word. She just sits there and watches the people like I do, and drinks her tea. I'm afraid to talk to her, I'm not going to lie. I'm afraid that if I talk to her, she'll get up and leave and never come back and my chance at friendship will disappear so I don't say a word. Yet.

After a week of drinking tea and eating biscuits in silence while stocking the people on the road she finally says something. "Holly," her voice is raspy and low, "I would like to go to the market with you next time. I really like going to the market. May I come with you?" I think my pause for silence lasts a tiny bit too long because her face starts to distort into an actual facial expression. I'm just so shocked to hear her initiate conversation. "Of course!" I almost scream. Mal seems unphased by my exclamation. I think she might've actually smiled. I don't know if she is amused by my outburst or that she was just happy that I agreed to let her come to the market with me.