James Mandarin

Doorbell

My heart races as I ring the doorbell. My brow is covered in sweat and my bones protest under the weight of the canvas, journals and roses in my hand. I rarely ring Chloe's door. We always meet in other places, but never her house.

I wait a moment before ringing the doorbell again.

I hope Chloe isn't ignoring me. The place is silent apart from the sound of roaring engines as cars pass the street. I wait a little while longer. I think of placing the canvas, journal and flowers on the floor, but instantly change my mind. If I put them down, then I'll have to lift them up.

I think I'll just deal with the pain.

It's Saturday. Chloe should be home. Netball is over for the season, so she doesn't have any training today. Maybe I should have called her. Maybe I should have texted her to see if she'd actually be home.

I ring the doorbell one more time. I wait and wait and wait.

Chloe isn't home.

I force myself not to show my disappointment. I force the overwhelming feeling of sadness back inside my gut as I turn around to begin my voyage back to my house.

As I am about leaving, I hear her voice.

"James!"

I turn around to find her standing beside the wide open door. She's dressed in her favourite Elmo pyjamas. Her hair is in disarray. Her eyes are groggy with sleep.

I can't help but grin. "Hey Chloe!"

Chloe frowns. "What are you up to, James? It's six o'clock in the morning."

I raise an eyebrow. What did she get up to last night? "It's actually two in the afternoon, Chloe." Chloe's mouth flies open and she swears under her breath. "May I come in?"

She looks at the objects in my hand. "There's no need to ask, James Mandarin. Now get your butt inside."

I follow her inside the mansion she shares with her parents, Paul and Caroline. They are filthy rich lawyers who spend all their time in their workplace. Chloe is home alone most of the time. I place my cargo on the kitchen table and Chloe curiously stares at them.

"It's not my birthday, James." She says, trying to make sense of what is going on.

"I know. I just felt like getting you some presents. Look at them."

I watch as Chloe takes a closer look at the canvas. It's an oil painting of the large field of flowers behind the old run down Church at Samson Street. "Did you paint this?" She asks.

"Yeah," I reply, placing my hands in my pockets. I look away shyly and bite my lip.

"It's beautiful." She says breathlessly, as she carefully traces the fine line with her fingers.

"I'm glad you like it."

She looks me straight in the eye. "You have a lot of talent, James. This is amazing."

I scratch my head and look around. "I suppose so."

"I'm sorry." She blurts out.

"Sorry? About what?"

"About the other day. When I was a cow and didn't want to paint."

"Oh. Don't worry about it. Painting isn't for everybody." I quickly reply. The last thing I want is for her to feel bad about it.

I begin going through the pantry and take out some bread, peanut butter and jelly. Chloe laughs when she notices what I'm about to do. "So you're making me lunch?"