Strange Guest
It was just another normal day here. Bright sunlight after a thunderstorm of rain. Birds of black and brown and bruised voices sang the morning welcome.
It was going to be another tough day convincing grandma to take her insulin and then eat breakfast.
The mornings passed, grandpa ate his plate full, grandma half of him, I relished my omelette sandwich. Just something about the sweet bread and the pan here.
The weather was pleasant and sunny enough to see the green shiny leaves with dew drops coating some and in clarity. The colors look fresh after a thorough wash of rainwater. It was when I was looking at the trees standing erect in our yard like protection walls from the neighbors, that I see a shiny black vanity van head our gates. The second iron gates closest to our bungalow. We have two, the first one a mile or so away, then a gravel pathway straight to the second gates, then begins our bungalow tiled ground. All houses in this part of the earth are like this.
So, the van stops at the gates. And out of it emerges a thin, lean man with black goggles and a black shirt and pants. The style said it was picked by a pertinent stylist to make it look casual yet classy. The face of the man was as white as the sun’s periphery.
He reminded me of the global star visiting countries to promote his new album worldwide. Had just watched the reels yesterday. He even had the same outfit. Or maybe the goggles.
He walked through the thin, small gate within the big one that was open and two cameramen were with him.
Uh-oo.
He drew his glasses off, and my eyes widened without control. It was my first time seeing a superstar idol face-to-face. He was clearly seeing my face, seeing him, seeing my face. Grandma’s voice carried from the other end of the house, followed by the steel vessels clinking.
I schooled my expression, and my hands went to my hips. I hated cameras.
“Hi, I’m-” he started as I cut in.
“No cameras.” I put the force of a mighty woman of power into my deep voice. The cameramen only lower the devices and look at me like I’m the alien here.
“Sorry.” A young cameraboy starts. “But we’re shooting a docu and -”
“This is private property and my home. No permission asked nor given.” How dare he?
“Guys, back off.” The white-skinned guy gives them the look my grandpa gives his wife when she’s complained enough about not being hungry. I know who the famous idol is, but I value privacy. As established.
The two men at his sides back off, impressive, and I catch him bending a little to speak at my level.
“I’m sorry about them. But I’ll be quick. I’ve been wandering the area and need a place to crash for a while. Your house is in a perfect location and I would like to return your permission with money if you’d agree.”He’s crazy.
But I was known to be super-crazy at times too. At times when I was scared because grandma kept on complaining about one thing for hours, how she was upset and made the whole house dim with her negativity.
And how, when there was a guest, she’d cheer up and be the normal, energetic lady, talking happily and laughing.
I tested my insanity. “No cameras. How long? How many people?”
He looked at me like I would look at myself if I were out of my body.
I wasn’t the owner or the eldest of the house, but only after me would I involve grandpa to finally decide.
He turned around and talked to the men in his native language and turned back around.
“Only me. For a short while. This is a personal matter for me and hence won’t be disclosed to the public.” He was a fast learner. Knew what would get me to agree faster.
I pressed my lips in a way to show him I was thinking, but actually controlling a smile. It is absurd, isn’t it? All of it.
It was finally time to bring the elder in charge of the house into this matter. Though I was the ‘little boy’ of the whole family tree, with my boy cut and shorts and grandpa’s t-shirt, I was very much a girl with a feminine face and body, and voice too.
Grandpa surprisingly questioned the handsome fair man only for 5 minutes before overseeing him drag his suitcases and pointing towards the room up. On the same floor as mine. Of course I had to show him up.
“Thanks for letting me stay here,” he charmed my grandparents and the househelp with his practised smile and a gentle handshake. “This is the most beautiful house I’ve been to.”
Look at that smooth-talker. We all exchanged names and I-am's.
He glanced at me and shot me a look I didn’t know what to call. I’ve never had a boyfriend but many male friends.
And here was a superstar idol in my house, ready to live 24x7 in my native house. I’m not going to know what hit me, am I?
Hopefully, he’ll be as private as I am and wish - if not more - and keep to his boundaries. My grandparents have been very kind in nature from the beginning of their marriage. They’d lent their house to many relatives in need and helped close ones as much as they could. It was in the family blood. As twisted as it got till it came to me.
I took him up to his room and opened the curtains to push the windows open. It was a big room with all wood - windows, the big bed, cupboards, bathroom door, the desk and chair. The clothes rack and the ceiling fan were the only non-wood items in sight.
“Thanks for showing me my room, Sar-” The clothes hanger hits his stomach as I’d targeted.
"Privacy," is primary.
