She was almost indistinguishable from the dark, and the only reason that Harold noticed her was the gold of her wrist watch flaring up when she moved her arm. Other than that, she was completely still, standing in his back garden and looking up at the house, at the window, at him behind the window. He was not scared, curiously enough, even though he did ask himself how she’d gotten to stand in his back yard which was fenced off by high wooden slates. He could not make out her face because of the darkness but he could see that she had a hood drawn over her head and that the hair spilling from underneath it was dyed a strange color, turquoise or pink, he could not say from the distance.
What was she doing here?
What was he to do?
The girl still did not move, just stare and stare, and now he did start to feel uncomfortable. Maybe he should call the police? He berated himself for the thought instantly. There was a girl in his backyard and he thought about calling the police? They’d laugh at him, probably.
Just when he was about to turn to get his binoculars from the shelf in the cellar, she moved, slowly, and held up her right arm high into the air. He strained to see better through the dusk – she was waving. He instinctively turned around to check whether it was really him who was meant to be addressed by this wave of her hand, and berated himself again. Who else should she be waving at, you moron, said a little voice inside his head. It’s not like someone is living here with you.
He tentatively held out his hand and waved back. He could not see her face but he thought he heard a sound coming from her direction. He shrugged, to show her that he did not understand.
“…window,” he heard muffled through the glass. He shook his head, indicating that he truly did not understand.
“Open the window,” the girl shouted, louder this time.
He waited for a few seconds, what for, he was not sure, exactly. He felt that it was not appropriate, not right, dangerous even, to open the window, and he wished that the girl would go away. As he made no sign, the girl stepped forward and the light shining out from behind the kitchen window downstairs flooded her face.
It scared him. It was a face he recognized, but he did not know where from. He had the curious sensation that people get sometimes, the one when they’re on the train back home after a long day of work and their gaze passes someone and registers their face and something makes the gears of the brain come to a screeching halt because something about this particular face seems familiar. He had that same feeling now. Before he could change his mind again, he opened the window. “Who are you?”
“Does it matter?” Her voice was soft, almost too quiet, he had difficulties making out her words.
“I think it does? You’re standing in my back yard and demanding of me to open the window and I don’t know who you are – yes I think it does, actually, now that you’re asking.”
She waved her hands in a careless gesture, as if she didn’t mind who knew who she was, much less so whether she herself knew who she was.
“I live up there.”
“That’s not an explanation of who you are.” The light of the kitchen was still illuminating her face, and now that his eyes were better adjusted to the darkness, he could make out a set of blue eyes and a small, scrunched-up face. She could have been seventeen or seventy-three, he couldn’t have said.
“I’m an idiot.”
“That’s not a very good explanation, either.” She shrugged.
“Can I come in now?” Harold was taken aback. There was definitely something strange about this girl, or woman, or whoever she was.
“I don’t think so, no.”
“Well, that’s too bad, I’ll be back tomorrow then, Harold. I think we’ll see more of each other. See you around.” She did her hand flick again and climbed out over the fence, in an instant she was gone.
Harold continued to stare at the space she’d stood before. Why had the girl seemed so familiar? Was it her eyes? Her mouth?
He was in a strange way happy to know that she’d come back again tomorrow, so that he could study her face some more.
“Goodbye,” he mouthed, and waved out into the dark and empty courtyard.