doorstep encounters

Elijah checked the sign of the road he'd walked into, 'Anne Bolyne's Walk'. He been asked to, no, told to flog his goods down this road. His goods were nothing special, just a bag full of umbrellas. He wasn't sure of the quality, but at £5 each they were probably overpriced.

He sighed, hefting the bag of brollies further up onto his shoulders. He didn't even know why he'd taken the job. It was the last thing he wanted to be doing. It was the last thing he wanted to be doing, systematically knocking on every door and talking to complete strangers who were likely less than a word away from slamming the door in his face.

If his mum hadn't threatened to throw him out, he would've skipped the interview and gone straight back to paid surveys. It was pathetic. He was nearly thirty and still he had to physically drag himself to interviews, and everything like them. Elijah had never liked strangers, but when they were sat across from him, a friendly face with a distant manner, measuring him up – part of him shut down. It was usually the part of his brain controlling speech.

Elijah got the interview, and then he'd got the job. A 'miracle', his mum had said. While he didn’t consider it an act of God, he really couldn't complain. All he had to do now was keep it.

The umbrellas were digging into his back. The scratchy sensation of the metal frames made him sweat and to worry, wonder – were some of the umbrellas getting crushed? It was an unpleasant thought he pushed out of his mind with some force. Elijah's eyes darted around the area, searching for a distraction. He saw numbers everywhere, but focused on the ones carved, nailed and painted on doors. He searched for the highest, or lowest. His eyes settled on the number directly to his left: eighty-five. Longer than he'd hoped, shorter than he'd thought. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped it across his forehead before putting his mind to bells and knockers.

For the first twelve houses, he met no surprises. Most of the residents slammed the door in his face. House five pointed angrily to a sign that stated 'we do not buy or give from the door' before telling him in colourful language to leave. Others humoured him, later claiming to have no change. House nine actually bought one - a blue travel umbrella with green polkadots.

Elijah closed the gate outside house twelve, still rubbing his nose from a painful collision with the door, and crossed the road to house thirteen with ginger feet. It was small, semi-detached, with pebble-dash walls and a neglected front garden. Through the cluster of weeds and bushes, he could see the remnants of tulips and bluebells. A bike leaned by a large window. Elijah disregarded the garden for the door. Shifting his bag, he raised his finger to the bell.

A cheerful tune rang through the house, but for a minute or two, no-one came to answer. Elijah had started to think he'd hit the first empty house, and was just about to leave when he heard movement inside. The door opened to reveal a young man, younger than him, with Asian features in his curious face. “Hello?” he greeted.

Elijah dropped into his salesman façade. “Hi, my name's Elijah. Can I interest you in some-”

Something in the other man jolted and a wide grid spread across his face. “Hi! I'm David.”

Elijah frowned and narrowed his eyes a little. “I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?” he asked, eyebrows slowly starting to rise with his bemusement. He pointedly glanced at the hallway behind David, who shook his head.

“Nah, housemates are all out. So, uh...” he tailed off, eyes darting around the scenery.

Elijah blinked. “Anyway, can I interest you in any-”

“Lovely weather we're having, right?” David blurted out, his grin returning as Elijah was startled into silence. David awkwardly adjusted the hem of his jumper, which was a bit too small for his belly. Elijah spotted a streak of grey plastic and was amazed to realise he'd missed that David was holding crutches.

He tweaked his glasses. The right earhook was digging into his ear. “I... guess?” He replied, his voice uneasy as he glanced toward the sky. “Bit overcast, ain't it – uh, isn't it?” Elijah added, wincing at the slip.

David laughed, shuffling forward so he could see as well. “So it is!” he exclaimed, his voice almost bubbling. He glanced back at Elijah. “But I kinda like overcast days – they feel pretty cosy, like the sky is hugging you.”

Elijah thought it over. “If you say so,” he said at last, his mouth twitching. “I always find them depressing, myself,” he added, starting to smile a little. “Rain is pretty cosy, though.”

David furrowed his brows and tilted his head in response. “How could rain be cosy?
It's cold and... well, wet.” His laugh was weak.

“Well, I didn’t mean-” Elijah sighed and massaged his forehead. “Look, I should probably go, I’m…” he began to pull back, to start heading for the next house. It wasn’t like he was doing his job right now, not really.

David jolted. “Wait! You should come inside - it might start raining!” He shouted. Elijah reeled back, allowing David in the blur of confusion that followed to grab his hand and drag him inside. Elijah picked up intermittent yells and a flash of blue-grey walls spattered with kitsche paintings; everything slowed down and they were in the living room.

Wary, Elijah sat down on the brown armchair, following the encouraging glance from David who had already sat down, albeit awkwardly “You know, it’s only cloudy. It doesn’t look like rain…” he muttered, glancing out of the window.

“But if it does, I’d hate for you to get wet,” David replied, relaxing within seconds. The smile even appeared less forced, although he grimaced as he rubbed his leg.

“It’s not going to rain.” Elijah insisted in a flat voice. “The Met Office stated there’d only be clouds today. No rain.” He began to fiddle with his bag. The idea that David had managed to drag him and his bag into a small house was impressive, especially considering the state of his leg, but Elijah was hoping this would all turn out to be a very strange daydream.

He pinched himself.

“You can never trust the Met. Weather’s unpredictable.” David retorted, resting his hands on his thighs and leaning forward, looking more intently at Elijah, who only fidgeted. “Y’know, a few months ago they said it’d be nothing but heat and sun one day… it stormed instead! How’s that for trustworthy!”

“Storms tend to follow a hot day. The heat breaks.” Elijah grumbled, his eyes flicking back to the window. “I think it’s something to do with humidity…” He hid the shaking of his hands by bobbing his knees up and down.

“Storms come in winter, too!” David pointed out, folding his arms again, but his shoulders loosened and he smiled. “Y’know, I’ve always loved storms - one time I was with my family on a holiday in Greece… The bar overlooked the sea and there was this massive thunderstoom. Those forks were really something!” Elijah closed his eyes and tried to ignore David’s babbling. It was rather difficult to tune out. “It’s just a shame that this country has nothing more interesting than storms, because man! A tor-”

“David.” Elijah finally spoke up.

“-nado would be so bloody - uh, yeah?” David stopped rambling and focused again on Elijah, brow furrowed at the interruption.

“Do you actually want an umbrella? Are you going to buy anything from me at all?” Elijah asked, roughly pulling his bag of umbrellas in front of him. He tried not glare.

David eyed the bag for a minute, giving an unconvincing smile. “Why would I want to do that? I have a hooded coat, that’s enough for me, thanks,” he replied eventually, folding his arms.

Elijah rubbed his forehead. “They’re not bad umbrellas, honestly… and they’re pretty cheap as well…” he muttered in a last-ditch attempt to make a sale.

“Not a good umbrella, are you?” He remarked with a raised eyebrow, his smile starting to fade.

Elijah narrowed his eyes, twitching his glasses. “What? Oh, I’m new.” He explained, smoothing out his coat. “Still, sure you don’t want to buy one?” He asked again with a small smile.

David laughed. “Heh, ‘fraid not. I can just nick my housemate’s if I’m that desperate,” he joked, leaning back into his chair slowly. “Hey, use one yourself, keep out of the rain.”

“It’s not going to rain.” Elijah replied, his smile turning dry. David looked away, his smile fading.

“Heh, if you say so,” David sighed, gazing at the television.

Something tugged at Elijah to stay, but he ignored it. He had to get back to work. He shouldered the  bag and stood up. “Well, I’ll… I’ll show myself out. Have a good day, David.” He said, returning to formal politeness.

David didn’t look up. “Yeah.” Elijah nodded and a little swiftly strode out, closing the front door behind him. He exhaled slowly and moved on to house fourteen.