Froggy's World - Alms for Oblivion (Weblog)

Everybody needs good neighbours
25th February, 2007

Apartment living does not encourage friendliness but out there in the 'burbs, the quaint practice of dropping in on the neighbours persists. Where I live it's called breaking and entering but in the quiet cul-de-sac where my wife's friend resides, when you knock on the door they don't automatically call the police. So when I got a phone message last week to say my wife was having a drink with her mate Jan and that I could join them if I wished, I grabbed a six-pack and drove across town.
Jan, I knew, lived with Will and so I walked into their yard, down the side of the house and, peering through the kitchen window, saw Will in the loungeroom watching TV.
If I did this around where I lived, by now I'd have been in custody charged as a trespasser and a peeping tom. Here, reassured by the neighbourliness of the 'burbs, I slid open the door and walked into the kitchen. Of Jan and my wife there was no sign. Having a chat elsewhere in the house, I thought, and so I said hello to Will. "Marc," he replied, rather less enthusiastically than I would have expected, for while we were not blood brothers, we had exchanged pleasantries on a number of occasions.
   "What are you having?" I asked, ripping a stubby out of my six-pack and offering him same, as one does when one has been invited around for a drink.
   "I think I'll have a rum and Coke," he said, dragging himself out of his comfortable chair.
So we sat at the kitchen table for a while and made small talk about cricket, of which I know little, and eventually I helped myself to another of my beers. Will, I noticed, kept looking at me in a peculiar, almost nervous fashion, but as this was not an uncommon reaction among people in my company, I paid it little heed. He'll relax a lot more when he gets to know me, I told myself and another 20 minutes or so of idle chat must have passed before my mobile phone rang. It was my wife asking where I was.
   "What do you mean?" I said. "The same place you are - in Jan and Will's house waiting for you. Where are you and Jan?"
   "Not Jan's place, you idiot," she replied. "I said meet me at Jen's place.
   "Oh," I said, and hung up.
So, I thought to myself, here I am sitting in the kitchen of a house which is not mine with a man who has no idea why I have suddenly appeared at his back door, invited myself inside, put my beer in his fridge and started drinking.
Will was still sitting at the table, his nervous glances now alternating between longing looks at his lounge chair and the wide screen of his TV set that he had so reluctantly abandoned.
   "That was the girls," I said. "They're at Jen's place."
   "I know," said Will, looking at me as if I had just told him that Christmas fell on 25th December.
   "I should be off," I said.
   "Right," said Will, relief suffusing his features.
I wanted to edge towards the door but I also had to rescue the four remaining stubbies in his fridge. How to do that and make an honourable escape without appearing to be an idiot and a tightarse?
I was reminded of the time I had mistakenly walked into the women's toilets of a nightclub and locked a cubicle door behind me. A few seconds later I heard female voices and someone knocked on the door. "Busy!" I squeaked in the highest voice I could manage. An hour passed before a lull in the toilet traffic gave me a chance to escape.
   "What about your beer?" asked Will as I began a sideways crab shuffle towards the kitchen door.
   "I couldn't," I said.
   "Please take it!" he said rather too quickly.
   "Nice to chat," I said, but my voice was drowned by the sound of the kitchen door being slid shut and deadlocked. I waved goodnight but I doubt if Will could see me through the heavy curtains he had just pulled across the glass door.
I'm getting the hang of this neighbourliness business. I just need a little more practice.

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