3: Why so rude?

"It is a wise thing to be polite; consequently, it is a stupid thing to be rude. To make enemies by unnecessary and wilful incivility is just as insane a proceeding as to set your house on fire. For politeness is like a counter--an avowedly false coin, with which it is foolish to be stingy.

†

Six months later

“Are you even listening to me?” demands an angry voice and I snap out of my daydreaming and see a middle-aged woman looking— more like glaring at me.

Although her screaming in my face was the very reason I zoned out, I try to recover myself and be polite. “I am sorry ma’am,” I say and her pink whipped face becomes a red one.

I glance down and I see a doll on the counter before me. Yes, she was saying something about the doll. Was it malfunctioning or is she having a change of heart about it?

Remember, shit! Quynn remember.

Oh, damn!

“Ma’am, I’m sorry,” the more I apologise, the angrier she gets, what does she want from me?

I look away from her and I see the young boy standing beside her, sharing similar features with her and even he doesn't look happy. Then it hit me, she was complaining about the malfunctioning of the toy before I wandered into my thoughts.

Yes, this doll is malfunctioning!

She specifically told me that her son couldn't get the doll to talk. Not judging, but aren't girly dolls, girls toy?

“I’m sorry that the doll malfunction, take this slip and show it to the security over at the toy section and you can get another at the counter for your son.”

My answer doesn’t help decrease her anger, in fact, if she could reach over the counter and strangle my neck at my words, she would.

She seethes, but doesn’t take the slip from my hands, “My son? She's my daughter, you bitch!” She exploded, I guess I finally set her off. “I’m reporting you to the management, you’re not supposed to be at the customer care counter because you’re incompetent and paying zero attention to customers' complaints.” she fumed.

Although wanting to snap at this rude and annoying woman across the face, she happens to be a customer and as the saying goes, customers are always right. “Amongst the both of us, one has been yelling and calling the other a bitch, I think we know that is rude and uncalled for. As I said earlier, please take this slip and show it to the security at the doll section, you will be able to get a new doll for your lovely daughter and have a nice day.”

After she yanks the slip and walks away from me, I pick up the returned doll and make my way into the repair room to drop it off. I see Luke the engineer, working on another toy and he is now coupling the parts together with his screwdriver.

I drop the toy beside his table and he looks up removing the magnifying glass he has on before looking at me. A wide grin comes on his face and doesn’t leave, “Quynn Hudson.”

“Luke Dante,” I respond with a small smile and nod.

Luke is a twenty-eight-year-old mechanical engineer and one of the few friends I've been able to make in the last six months I've worked here. He's cool and one of the most down to earth guy I know.

“How’s your day going so far?”

“Just like my sense of fashion, it could be better,” I answer and he laughs out loud before shaking his head.

“You have a great humour though,” he points out.

"Oh well, whoever said the customer is always right never had a customer be rude for no damn reason before," I whine and Luke just studies me without saying a word for a while.

Finally realising I was waiting for him to ask what the problem was, he asks, "Why do you say that?"

"The woman who brought in this doll called me a bitch because I referred to her daughter as her son," I explain my frustration to him.

Luke's eyes widen in disbelief and he presses his lips together in an attempt to suppress the laughter fighting to burst out. I glare at him and pout my lips, "You're not helping."

He bows his head, "I'm sorry, my Quynn, but as long as you're a sales attendant, it is bound to happen. But someday when you become rich and successful you can run for president and change a few policies. I wish that when that day comes, I would be by your side."

Luke's words do not surprise me, he came out with how he felt towards me a few weeks after I started working here. He told me he liked me and thought I was also smart and a nice girl. I was just coming out of a toxic relationship with my ex whose 35 grand had I stolen and the last thing I needed then was another relationship and so I told him I wasn't ready for any form of relationship and only able to offer friendship. He said he was in no hurry and that I should take all the time that I needed. Today makes it six months, one week and 2 days since then and I have gotten over Ade and Sharon betrayal but still not certain about Luke.

Luke is a great guy and compared to Ade, he is a Saint. He treats me well and with respect and even after I turned down his proposal for a relationship, he didn't change, he continued to be a good friend and the perfect gentleman.

Maybe he's doing all that because he hopes to someday get a yes from me. Maybe and maybe not, but one thing I know is that I feel safer around him than I ever did with Ade. He has every quality I once wished Ade had, but I can't see myself being with him and honestly, I don't want to. I think someone like him deserves better.

"You will find someone, Luke and she will be better," I answer with a reassuring smile and dropping my elbows on his table and wincing out when my right hand begins to hurt a little.

He immediately gets up and hurries around his desk to come to my side, "You know you shouldn't be at work yet, especially after what happened."

Four weeks ago, the bus I normally took was involved in a very fatal accident on my way from work. The driver suffered a heart attack while driving and the bus went off the road, smashing into one of the trees along the road.

Four passengers, including the driver lost their lives that night while some stained, severe injuries on their bodies and a few others were lucky enough to sustain only a mild bruise. I was considered one of the lucky ones because only a small part of the back of my head was bleeding and my arm was dislocated.

The accident was so fatal that it made headlines across the states and NBC had a reporter there to cover the tragic incident and I was one of the people interviewed during their time at the scene. And I told them how the incident went down according to how I remembered it. I was admitted and placed at the ICU before taking in for surgery to control the small bleeding. Once done, I was returned to the ICU until I regained my full strength then I was further moved to the regular ward.

Unlike the other victims, no one came to visit the first few days after I regained consciousness.  Luke, however, walked in the next day with a red rose in his hand.

I told him he was amazing and thanked him for his efforts for coming to see me. He told me he had visited immediately after the accident but was told I was in the Emergency room and also that he wasn't going to be allowed to see me since he wasn't family and after that day he couldn't come back until four days later. He told me my other colleagues at work sent their regards but they weren't as important, I was okay with just him.

Two days after, I was discharged from the hospital and my boss, Mr Anderson gave me six weeks off with pay in order for me to fully recover before resuming work, but after a week of staying home all day and doing nothing, I got bored and resumed this week.

"It's nothing, I'm fine." I withdraw my casted-arm from his, "besides I don't have the mental capacity of staying home when I have nothing to do, it would literally drive me insane."

He nods his head in understanding, "Me too."

I silently begin to make my way out of the room but I stop and turn to him, "Got any plans for Christmas? The calendar says it's six weeks away but closer than you think" I jokingly inquired, looking up at Luke.

He shrugs, "Not really, have you?"

"Since we'll all get that day off, I might just stay home and watch reruns of Smallville all day."

"A girl with a plan, I like." he beams at me.

"If you've got no plans and come up with nothing before that day, you're welcome to visit, but just to be clear, it's a friendly visit, nothing funny is going to happen."

He nods, "Got it, thanks, I'll think about it." He says, trying to mimic my voice.

I roll my eyes but smile and nod, "That's a poor attempt, Mr Dante, better luck next time." I mimic his exact voice, leaving him in an awestruck state before walking away and though he claps his hands, obviously impressed, but I don't look back.

Doing an impression of peoples voice as well as impersonating their characters are a few things I'm known for here. At first, Luke was the only one who knew I could do that, but he could keep a secret and he told the other male colleagues.

I dismissed early from work to visit the hospital and have the doctor examine how far my healing has come and after a series of questions and cross-examination of my arm, the cast was removed and I was sent home and told to stay safe on my medication.

On my way home, I sit in the bus quietly. After what happened four weeks ago you can say that I've developed a phobia for going home and coming to work on a bus because I feel like something bad is going to happen and with every sudden stop the bus makes or a little bump on the way, I fear for the worse.

I finally reach my stop and I hurriedly get down and make my way up the stairs of the building, in hope to get to my apartment which is on the fourth floor. When I first moved to this apartment six months ago, I was happy to be on the fourth floor, it meant that I could see the early morning sunset from my window and the city lights at night from the fire escape, but now, especially since my accident, I could care less if the sun took a day off or if the city was on fire. I didn't want to be climbing the stairs every day that's for sure.

"Quynn," my name being called yanks me back to reality and I see Paula, my next-door neighbour, climbing down the stairs. She looks all dressed and ready for her day at the club in a simple red gown that brings out her brown and glowing skin. She looks beautiful and sophisticated for the night and like always I know she's going to crush it.

Paula Michael is a 53-year-old woman who recently divorced her husband of thirty years on the grounds of countless infidelity. I got to know her a days after I moved into my apartment, I was out of food and my banks would not clear me for withdrawal and Ade's money had been used to rent the house and also to get the few things I needed. I didn't like asking for favours, but it was either that or I starve to death.

I went to her and asked if she could lend me at least a pack of spaghetti because since shark Ade was no longer with me, that would probably last me till the next day and by then, I should go to my bank, resolve the issues I've been having and hopefully withdraw the money to get my own food and then return the spaghetti I was taking. She smiled and brought me two-pack of spaghetti instead of one and told me I shouldn't bother returning it, but the next day after succeeding at my bank, I went to her door and I knocked on it to return her spaghetti her and thank her.

When she opened the door and saw the packs in my hands, she ushered me into her room and asked if I wanted to have anything. I told her no thank you, but she brought me a cup of orange juice anyway and I realised I was in for it with her. She proceeded to explain why she couldn't take it back.

She said she had a daughter about my age and was only looking out. I strictly told her I wasn't a charity case and she assured me she knew that and moved to say she had been in this apartment for almost two years and haven't made any friend and she could really use one.

And that is how we became friends.

Over a month ago she travelled to Lagos to be with her daughter who was giving birth. She returned a few days ago and the first thing she did when I opened my door was to hug me. It made me almost tear up at how affectionate she was and she told me she greatly relieved to see me in one piece.

She told me she had only seen the news but was unable to come to me or contact the hospital, because of the processes involved but kept me in her prayers.

Since then I have seen her a few times because of how scheduled our work is. The most times we meet now are on the weekends or days that I'm on breaks.

After her divorce was finalised, she began pursuing her dream of being a singer at a night club. According to her divorcing her husband was the bravest thing she ever did and the next bravest thing was going to the club and applying for a job as a singer.

"Evening, Paula, going to work I see. May I say you look beautiful in that dress." I compliment blowing her a kiss.

"Oh, you have your way with flattery words, Quynn, but thank you." She smiles happily. "make sure you get some rest okay?"

"I will! Have a nice day."

¶

Three days later.

After waking up from the bed I make my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth and go for my usual morning runs. I started doing that six months ago to lose some weight, but so far the only thing I've been losing has been my breath. Luke did tell me that I looked fit from time to time though.

After my accident four weeks ago, I gave it a rest but two days ago, the next day after taking off the casts, I went back to my old ways and it feels great. I called my boss back three days ago and told him I would be taking those few weeks off as instructed. Now I can take my time to heal, run and rest.

Standing outside with my coarse black hair in a somewhat ponytail, white sneakers, black joggers and red, loose tank top over my black sports bra and my towel in my hand, I am ready for my run.

I set the stopwatch in my other hand to twenty minutes which has to ring after ten minutes and that would be my cue to stop, turn back and run back home with the other ten minutes. I place my Bose earphones on my head and shuffle my playlist to Gloria Gaynor "I Will Survive" and I place it on repeat. As the music begins to play followed by Gloria's amazing voice, I take to my heels.

I am panting heavily as I slow down right before my building; day 2, check!

I notice a black Mercedes Benz parked before the building and I begin to wonder whose it is.

If there is anything I've learnt in the six months I've lived here, it's that the tenants here live a low-key life and a Mercedes Benz is a way of screaming over the top life for them. Though I don't know whose it is it, I become a little curious, but I'm too tired to think so I let it be.

I jog up the stairs and I don't slow down until I reach my apartment door and I opened it and stepped inside. I head straight for the fridge to take out a bottle of water to drink and quench my thirst. I drop the bottle on the kitchen counter and unhang the towel around my neck to clean my sweat-filled face.

"Finally, you're home," comes the nonchalant tone of voice from behind and turning around a see a lady sitting at the dining table with an unlit cigarette in her right hand and a blank look on her face which looks exactly like mine.