CHAPTER 4
Noah
The waves were decent today.
I shake the leftover saltwater from my hair as I park my car in the driveway, feeling lighter than I did this morning. It’s always like this when I’ve indulged in an afternoon of surfing; the ocean is my happy place. After I shut off the engine, I close my car door, whistling a happy little tune to myself as I head to my front door. I spare a glance at my neighbour’s house and find the light in the front room on, her blinds half drawn.
“I wonder which movie she will choose tonight?” I ask the warm afternoon air around me.
With a spring in my step that has everything to do with knowing I won’t be stuck listening to Love Actually again, I bounce up to my front door only to stop short at the parcel waiting for me.
“What do we have here?”
I crouch down to retrieve a small box, a bottle of wine and a note written in the neatest handwriting I’ve ever seen. I balance them all in one hand while letting myself into the house.
“Clearly she’s feeling grateful for my movie suggestion list, and this is a token of her gratitude.”
My stomach fills with warmth at the idea that I’ve helped my poor heartbroken neighbour, and I eagerly open the box. My jaw hangs open when I see what’s inside.
Ear plugs.
She’s left me ear plugs?
And not just any ear plugs, but the fancy sort you get at a five-star resort or in a first-class aeroplane (I know this only from what I’ve seen on TV; never having been lucky enough to travel that way myself).
“What on Earth…?”
Intrigued, I read her note. And then read it again.
Dear Neighbour,
I believe this solves your problem with my perfectly acceptable movie choice.
Enjoy the silence!
P.S. The cookies were amazing!
From the Grinch next door.
“I can’t believe this.”
She’s underlined the words ‘your problem’ three times, highlighting that she thinks her watching the same sappy, terrible movie every night for a week is somehow my problem.
My problem!
“What a piece of work.”
I re-read the note one last time. I only refrain from tearing it to pieces because she complimented my cookies. That shouldn’t make a difference, but it does. Anyone who takes the time to comment on my baking can’t be all bad.
Can they?
“At least she thought to leave a decent bottle of wine,” I mutter as I fill a large glass, ignoring that it’s only 4p.m. and the sun won’t set for a few hours yet. Tomorrow is my day off; if I want to indulge in a little day drinking to take the edge off dealing with my annoying neighbour and her ridiculous ear plugs, then that’s what I’ll do.
I take a seat on my couch intending not to move for a long while. It’s the festive season; the season for being sloth-like. Then I hear something. “What is that?” I ask my half-empty wine glass. “That isn’t what I think it is, is it?”
I pause, listening intently and groan. It’s the opening music for Love Actually . She’s getting an early start tonight.
“I hate that I can recognise the few opening notes of that song…” I mutter, clenching my teeth to stop from screaming at her to turn it off!
Restless now, the wine doing little to dull my anger, I stand and pace around the room, glaring at the wall and the voice of Hugh Grant I can hear clear as crystal through it.
“Hang on.” I stop pacing, pressing my ear against the wall separating her place from mine. “I don’t remember hearing this scene.”
I stand, listening to a conversation play out that I know I haven’t heard before.
“What’s going on?”
Feeling even more restless than I was five minutes ago, I fill my wine glass up again and take a long sip. I then tap on the Google search bar on my phone, typing in Love Actually extended version, holding my breath as the search results come up.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
There, staring me in the face, is the IMDB listing for Love Actually: The Director’s Edition . And it goes for three and a half hours!
“Complete with an extra hour of scenes from your favourite Christmas movie,” I read aloud in terror. “There is a lot more movie to love in this extended version.”
She’s evil. That’s got to be it. I send her cookies and wine, with a gentle suggestion to switch up the festive rom-com watchlist, and this is her response?! Ear plugs and another re-watch, an extended re-watch, the very next night?
With the two glasses of wine sloshing through my brain, I contemplate my next move. Bang on the wall and demand she turn it off? Bribe her with more cookies in exchange for never watching the movie again? Or something more diabolical? Something she will recognise as ‘this means war’?
“I’ve got it!”
I take a seat back on my couch, a third glass of wine in hand (she may be the Grinch, but she knows excellent wine) and pick up my laptop. A quick Amazon search finds me what I’m looking for, and as I enter my PayPal details and give thanks to the gods of next-day delivery, I let out a maniacal chuckle.
She may think she’s got the best of me with the fancy ear plugs and this oh-so-painfully long version of the world’s worst movie, but come tomorrow morning, revenge will be mine. And it will be so, so, so, so sweet.
*****
The next morning rushes at me with the blinding headache of a man who’d finished a bottle of wine by himself, while lying on the couch with useless ear plugs in his ears, listening to the longest movie in the history of the world.
Pure torture.
At first, I’d tried to drown it out by watching my own holiday movie, Die Hard. A Christmas classic. But every time John McClane blew something up or let out a funny quip, the devil next door would crank up the volume of her movie. Then I’d do the same, and so on, back and forth, until my head was about to explode and I’d given in. I’d turned off my favourite movie and let her win this battle, knowing what I have up my sleeve for today.
And speaking of, I spring out of bed, wincing as my feet touch the floor and jolt the hungover neurons in my brain. Moving more slowly, I down two paracetamol tablets in the kitchen while en route to see if my Amazon delivery has arrived.
“Bingo!”
I peer through my front window, finding a huge box with the Amazon smile waiting for me, delivered as promised. With a quick check to make sure my she-devil neighbour isn’t around, I drag my package in through the door and open it with a sense of anticipation.
“It’s just as I imagined!” I say as I unpack my goodies. Yet as I lay the items out at my feet, I feel the first twinge of unease.
Is this just a little bit too mean? I question myself in the light of a new day. When I’d ordered them last night, I’d been well, tipsy, but also furious. The extended version of Colin Firth bumbling his way through a romantic exchange had tipped me over the edge. And now I’m wondering if this is a bit too much.
“I’ll bake some cookies to soften the blow,” I tell the empty Amazon box in front of me. “She liked the ones I made yesterday; I’ll just whip up another batch and then leave them all together for her.”
With this decision made, my guilt assuaged, I pull the ingredients out of the pantry to make my simple but decadent Christmas sugar cookies. It takes no time to have them baking in the oven, and once they’re done, I’ve showered and am dressed for the day. Ready for a little payback.
I take half a dozen cooled cookies, coated in my special cinnamon sugar concoction, and place them in a box. A red box this time. With this done, I scribble off another note, so she’ll know exactly what these gifts mean and who left them for her, and I place them by my front door. Peering outside to check if the coast is clear, I rear back in surprise to find her—the Grinch herself—in front of her house, dressed in a pair of tiny mint green running shorts, a matching (also small) running top and a mint green visor to shield her face. Her long blonde hair is pulled up in a neat ponytail and she looks—from the back, at least—incredible.
“This will not do,” I mutter, tearing my eyes from her, only to have them dart back without my permission. “Not at all.”
Now she’s stretching, her long toned bronzed legs on full display in front of me, and I bite back a groan.
“She’s evil, remember…” I remind myself, my breath catching as she turns her face slightly towards me, allowing me my first glimpse of her profile. Her face is unexpectedly delicate, with a small straight nose that dips up slightly at the end, and smooth cheeks with high cheekbones. I wonder what colour her eyes are?
I duck down as she turns towards my house, her eyes narrowed in contemplation. Is she picturing another night of torture? Another night with Love Actually up at full volume, ruining my Christmas cheer? I hold my breath and wait, watching as she tightens her ponytail before gracefully taking off in a jog down our driveway and out of sight.
“Phew.” I breathe out a long breath, gathering my thoughts. My heartbroken, annoying, obnoxious neighbour is…beautiful.
How inconvenient. This will not do.
I shake these new disturbing thoughts from my head and gather my goodies into my arms. Now that I know she’ll gone for a while, I take my time arranging them in front of her door just so. My neighbour may be gorgeous, but she’s also ruining my sense of peace and quiet. She needs to be taught a lesson on how to be neighbourly. And not so annoying!
Once I’m done arranging everything just so, I stand back and admire my handy work.
This should do it. This may just do the trick.
I won’t ever have to listen to Love Actually. Ever again!