My place was filled with all the useless stuff I had accumulated from former clients: Persian rugs rolled up and stacked in a corner, antique vases and urns of all sorts, paintings fresh from the black market, a cheap replica of Rodin’s Thinker that lived in my spare bedroom… I should consider selling all that crap.

Oh, well. After a cursory look in my pantry, I decided that tonight’s dinner would consist of instant noodles. I plugged the kettle in the kitchen and soon got distracted by the sound of someone knocking at the door. A shudder ran through my spine. If it was the stranger again, I might need to call the police.

I grabbed a baseball bat that was lying around in the hallway before cracking the door open. A young, tall woman with short blonde hair stood there. I had seen her around recently. “Hey, sorry to bother you…” she said. “I moved in last week. I live next door.”

I tried to rest the baseball bat against the wall as subtly as I could. It slipped and fell with a quiet clank. I hoped she hadn’t noticed.

“Oh, nice to meet you,” I replied. In all my years living here, she was the first neighbor who bothered introducing themselves.

“I’m Eva.”

“Christine, nice to…” I almost lifted my hand to shake it with hers. Is that what normal people do in these situations?

Eva scratched the back of her head. “So, hmm… There was someone downstairs when I came back this afternoon. She asked me to give you this.”

My hair stood on end. That girl from earlier must have been around. I held back a gurgle of despair when Eva handed me a piece of folded paper. I stored it in my jeans pocket without looking at it.

“Sorry, I promised I would give it to you,” she apologized.

I gave her a pained smile. “It’s fine.”

“Has she been bothering…”

I hadn’t been aware that a mood had been established until the kettle ruined it with its death screech. I tried to ignore it but Eva said, “Oh, go ahead.”

I hesitated to leave her hanging there in the middle of her sentence. That sounded rude. “Come in.”

I went to the kitchen, trusting that Eva would simply hover uncomfortably in the hallway while she waited for me. Of course, she spotted the keyboard in the living room. “You play the piano?” she asked.

I unplugged the kettle and returned to her. “Yes. I’m a teacher.”

“That’s awesome! Do you write your own music?”

“I try to.”

“I might hear you play at some point, then,” she said. Her good mood was becoming contagious. Which was saying a lot coming from me.

“No chance. I wear headphones.”

“That’s too bad.”

Why was she already acting so familiar? Maybe she was desperate for someone to talk to since she was new around here.

“So, if I see that girl again, should I tell her to leave?” Eva picked up on the situation quite accurately.

“Don’t worry about it. You want some tea?”

A surprised awkwardness spilled between us. I hadn’t been aware I wanted Eva to stay for tea. It was a bit early to suggest such neighborly things.

A contemplative smile played on her lips. “If I drink tea now, I won’t be able to sleep,” she offered as a polite excuse to decline my invitation.

Phew. “Of course. Don’t hesitate to ask if there’s anything.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Well, if the girl from earlier had acted this friendly, I might have been more inclined to cooperate.

The piece of paper flew out of my pocket when I took off my jeans later on before showering. A few words were written on it. Nothing special; the girl was once again asking me to consider helping her. The signature at the end said “Tara”. There was also a phone number, but I threw the thing away.

***

Contrarily to what I would have expected even from the most stubborn individuals, Tara’s harassment did not end with that note. When she realized that I wouldn’t be calling her, she came back over and over again. She left post-its on my mail box. She slipped in whenever another tenant was foolish enough to let her in, probably assuming that she looked innocent enough. Eva started throwing me sorry looks whenever she saw me.

By the end of the week, I was seriously considering calling the police. This was getting out of hand. I had to sneak out of my apartment in secret every time I had to work or run errands. This situation couldn’t last much longer. Even my students noticed that I was getting cranky. Or crankier than usual.

***

A horrible noise woke me up one morning around eight. I didn’t have any lessons until five in the afternoon and the persistent knocking at my door destroyed my plan of not doing anything until I absolutely had to.

I picked up a sweatshirt and pulled it over my head. There better be a fire or something.

It turns out it was another kind of natural disaster. That girl was back. Sara… Martha… no, Tara. Several lines of thought imposed themselves to my sleepy mind. One of them involved a window and someone getting thrown out of it. “How did you get here?” seemed like the most pressing matter.

“Someone let me in.”

“This is harassment. I should call the police.”

“I wouldn’t have to come here if you’d call me back.”

Blaming her antisocial behavior on me. It sounded like something a seasoned psychopath would say. I turned back into my apartment. “I don’t want to work with you. Leave!”

I closed the door, locked it and put on the door chain for good measure. I then went back to bed and used a pillow to muffle the noise of her banging.

At some point, the noise stopped. I listened and heard two people speaking in the corridor. Ah, dammit. Eva had stepped in. There was an exchange at the issue of which I heard footsteps going away and Eva’s door closing.

This situation needed to stop. Since I was already wide awake, I put on a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeve shirt before heading to the studios of the MBT.