Misunderstood

MISUNDERSTOOD

A SWEET ROMANCE

Sandy Appleyard

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ISBN 978-0-9950705-2-3

Copyright © 2016 Sandy Appleyard.

All rights reserved.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Decisions

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Chapter 1

Ian

There was a mental picture locked inside his memory of what she looked like. And he had to admit, she was beautiful. Her stunning long blonde hair and smart-looking blue eyes stood out against the black outfit she was wearing when he first saw her. Tonight, however, she was wearing a stunning red shirt that accentuated her modest cleavage. Michelle was her name, and she just happened to be at the front desk when he picked his mother up from work the previous week.

Ian’s mom said it was fate that Michelle and he met. She’d wanted to set them up for weeks but didn’t want to intrude…so she said. It wasn’t until Michelle asked about Ian that his mom’s opportunity arose. This would be the fifth date for him in as many months, and frankly, he had to talk himself into it. His mom, sister and cousins were always trying to set him up with some girl they know.

Some girl. Yeah, she’s probably going to be the same as the rest. Dating was pretty typical for Ian. They drooled over him at first glance, but once they saw what was inside; that he was not as perfect as he appeared, he became as unwelcome as a bad taste in their mouth. He had yet to meet a girl who hadn’t run away from him. Ian told his family that they just weren’t right; that there wasn’t any chemistry, but only he knew the truth. And he would never tell them.

Michelle rose when she saw Ian and offered him a limp handshake. Her lack of eye contact was proof of her nerves. Evidently tall, dark and handsome were what most women still dreamed about. They ordered drinks and immediately Michelle’s hands were all over him. Great…another one. By the time the meal was over Michelle was talking about what they should do for their next date; boldly suggesting a trip to the honeymoon capital about one hundred and thirty kilometres away, in Niagara Falls.

When Ian returned from the men’s room he noticed that she had unbuttoned her shirt a little, but it had no effect on him. She also touched up her lip gloss, and then when he sat down, she gave him those haughty bedroom eyes he recognized from hopeful women in the past. They ordered dessert, despite her saying that they didn’t need it; that perhaps they could go back to her place, but Ian wasn’t having any of that. Because he knew what would happen next.

Eating dessert, she licked the spoon dramatically, irritating Ian further. They began conversing about the weather and how unusually warm it had been for winter in Toronto, and she seemed to cool off a little. Perhaps I’m boring her, but I don’t know…and I don’t really care.

So, what do you do for a living?

Ian chose the simplest answer. I work at the Eaton Centre.

Michelle’s face brightened. Oh yeah? Do you get good discounts for clothes and stuff?

Not exactly. I’m part of building management. I don’t work in retail.

Oh,

Michelle fidgeted with her straw, so Ian decided to throw her a bone. How long have you worked at Bradford Technologies?

With your mom, you mean? Oh, just about four or five months. I’m only on reception for now, but I hope they’ll bump me up to marketing. I just got my diploma in Marketing Management.

Ian smiled. Congratulations.

Thanks. Plus, Receptionists don’t get paid much. Michelle changed tack. Your mom is great, by the way. So sweet, and she’s always bringing in goodies and stuff. I have to tell her I’m full most of the time…gotta keep my figure, you know. She giggled.

Ian agreed. Maybe there was a glimmer of hope after all. That’s mom.

So, how do you keep yourself in such great shape? she asked, widdling her way over to his arm, and then she stroked it, like he was a Labrador Retriever.

I go to the gym. And I have free weights at home.

Her hand remained on his arm. He considered moving it, but decided to make it less conspicuous. Do you live with your mom? She asked.

No. I moved out a couple of years ago.

I bet you have a great place.

To hide all the women who swoon over me, right? Is what Ian wanted to say, but he bit his tongue and pretended to scratch his leg, effectively removing his arm from her grasp. And she took that as a queue to stroke his leg with the toe of her shoe. Avoiding eye contact, Ian pressed his hand into her foot and watched her eyes dart to his in surprise. But it wasn’t a lustful glance, as one would expect. Her head lowered and her eyes focused to her left, as if she was going to explore further.

And there it was. Her eyes widened and she stiffened up as if someone had just slid ice cubes down her top. Her foot returned to its rightful spot on the floor and she went silent. Had I known that was all it would take, I would have done that sooner. The waitress brought the cheque and Ian placed a credit card on the collection plate. Michelle picked up her jacket and purse, stammering something about needing to use the washroom.

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

And she didn’t return.

Chapter 2

Kendra

The bang was so loud Kendra lurched forward, spilling a half-eaten bowl of popcorn down her favourite Roots hoodie. A mouthful of Coke quickly splashed over her knees. Catching a breath, she absently wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and bent forward to pick the remote control up off the edge of her Ikea coffee table.

As she paused a rerun of Friends, her ears suddenly became hyper-sensitive as she strained to listen to her neighbours upstairs. Ignoring the popcorn strewn about the beige carpet underfoot, she rose from the couch to see something falling from the sky. Opening up the balcony door Kendra felt the winter chill penetrate her damp clothes. The night sky was ablaze with a full moon. What first looked like large flakes of snow she soon realized was men’s underwear being thrown from the neighbours’ place upstairs.

There was a faint grunt from the woman who lived in apartment 402, as she threw her husband’s clothes out the door. Kendra watched the numerous pairs of underpants, t-shirts, and trousers as they fluttered down to the ground beneath, landing in a haphazard pile to the left of the main entrance.

Kendra covered her mouth so her neighbour, Linda, couldn’t hear the reaction to the expletives sputtering from Linda’s mouth. They were such a pleasant couple; mid-twenties, and both happy from what Kendra noticed. Linda and Ray had so much in common; they were internet marketers and they both drove vintage cars: he a powder blue 1982 Honda Civic and she a red 1979 Oldsmobile Cutlass.

Just as she heard Linda close her balcony door Kendra thought it was over, but she remained outside, staying behind the spruce tree that lent her privacy so she could observe people coming and going out of the building. What could Ray have done to upset her so badly? I suppose there is only one thing he could have done to warrant an outburst like this.

Knowing he couldn’t see her, Kendra frequently spied on Ian, the man in apartment 404, and there he was, arriving home with who Kendra guessed was a date. The woman he was with was wickedly gorgeous, and so was he in Kendra’s eyes. Ian worked as a department manager at an upscale clothing store downtown, however, he should have been on the front cover of Gucci magazine, in Kendra’s opinion. He was tall, with reddish brown hair that curled above his ears and neckline. His eyes were piercingly blue and his teeth were perfect and white. And Kendra was completely in love with him, but he had never seen her before. She only watched him from afar. Ian Wilkinson—she knew that was his last name because she found an envelope that fell from his mail slot once—would never be interested in her, she thought.

He and his guest walked onto the pavement leading into the foyer and he stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the pile of clothes to his right. A pair of pants and a t-shirt managed to get mangled in the tree just below Kendra’s balcony. Linda didn’t seem to care that she’d attracted an audience as she tossed bed sheets over the railing and sobbed again, watching her Egyptian cotton linens float to the ground.

Ian smirked and shook his head as his date laughed. Apparently she was unfazed. Maybe Ian had told her about the happenings of 125 Calamity Place.

Kendra moved to Calamity Place about five years ago, and although the rent was enormously high for such a small dwelling, the building was right for her because it forbade animals. Apparently it was against the law to ban owners from having four-legged friends in the city of Toronto, however, evidently the building’s board found a loophole because of the unique and smaller size of the units. I’m sure it would never stand up in court, but whatever, it suits me fine. Kendra had said.

Linda spat out another expletive and slammed the balcony door. Kendra was torn between going inside to eavesdrop through the vents or staying outside to watch Ian and his date. Ian entertained the ladies regularly. In fact, if I was keeping track, which I’m not, I would estimate that he has at least one date a week. Kendra’s friend Cassandra dated almost as much, but she was never serious about her dates, being a single mom and all. However, Kendra hadn’t been on a date since a co-worker, Desmond, asked her to a company summer picnic…but it was a complete disaster. Working with him since then had been so awkward.

All seemed quiet with Linda upstairs so Kendra decided to go change her clothes and watch the rest of Friends. Ian had bid his date adieu, so it appeared, so there was nothing left to see besides the clothes on the main floor flapping in the wind. As she pulled a white sweatshirt over her head, after putting on a pair of blue jeans, she heard laughter in the hallway.

Sticking an ear to the door, Kendra heard Missy from across the hall. She must have taken Kendra’s advice and used the back entrance, avoiding Mrs. Cummings, the landlord. Mrs. Cummings was so old-fashioned she believed it was okay for Ian to date as much as he did, however, it was completely unacceptable for Missy to do the same.

Poking her eye into the peephole she could see that Missy brought home Tom, the sexy kindergarten teacher she’d been dating on and off for a couple of months. They ran into each other in the elevator last week and Missy introduced him to Kendra. Tom was a Clark Kent look alike and was completely smitten with Missy from what she could tell.

As she heard Missy’s door close Kendra decided to return to the balcony to see if anyone had gathered around Ray’s clothes. He was a pretty snazzy dresser and she figured his clothes would at least fit Peter or Henry from the second floor, but that would be weird, right?

There was still no movement upstairs, so Kendra assumed Linda was either drowning her sorrows in the nearest chardonnay or plotting Ray’s death via Facebook. The pile of clothes lay untouched on the ground floor, and to Kendra’s chagrin, it had not provoked attention except for Carol and Steve, the new people on the first floor, entering the building, but apparently they didn’t notice the Tommy Hilfiger jeans hanging in the tree.

Disappointed, Kendra was about to close the balcony door behind her when she saw a flash of headlights coming from the street. Curious, she waited. When she saw Ray’s blue 1982 Honda Civic pulling into the underground parking garage, her jaw dropped. Quickly running to the ceiling vent just above the kitchen, Kendra waited for Ray to arrive home and for the poopoo to hit the fan.

And then she jumped when there was a knock at the door.

Chapter 3

Kendra? Kendra, it’s Mrs. Cummings. Are you home?

Hearing her landlord’s soft voice and obligatory knock, Kendra wondered what she wanted. I have a pretty good guess.

Opening the door, Kendra was careful to slide her right foot forward, allowing a slight gap between her and the door. Hi, Mrs. Cummings. What can I do for you? Kendra asked, observing Mrs. Cummings’ expression. The woman appeared sheepish; like she was embarrassed to be a bother. Her short white hair was pulled back in a kerchief, and her hair was in rollers under the cloth. A long pink sweater was over her shoulders, covering her plump, short body past the waist. The sweater didn’t match her sheer brown chemise and elastic waistband pants. It was as if she was in the middle of undressing when it began raining clothes outside her window. Kendra was careful to keep the door open a mere inch.

Are those your clothes downstairs? the landlord asked, although they both knew the answer. Mrs. Cummings was aware that Kendra lived alone, and she also knew that Kendra didn’t have a boyfriend, proving that the purpose of her call was to dig for information. Mrs. Cummings knew that Kendra was pretty astute when it came to what went on in the building.

Struggling with whether or not to share what she knew or wait to see if Linda would tell her in the morning, Kendra decided to be selective with what she communicated to the nosey woman. I think I recognized Ray’s t-shirt in the tree, but I’m not sure. Kendra answered.

Unconvinced, Mrs. Cummings folded her arms onto her chest. Is Linda home? she went for nonchalant. Mr. Catchman isn’t home. There were only five floors in the building, so that left Kendra, Linda and Ray, and Mr. Catchman in 202 as possible culprits for the thrown clothes since Mr. and Mrs. Cummings lived in apartment 102.

As much as Kendra wanted to report the loud slam she heard earlier, she liked knowing more than Mrs. Cummings. It was kind of a power trip, so she shrugged, feigning ignorance. But part of her wanted to go with Mrs. Cummings up to Linda’s apartment, especially knowing that Ray was on his way. So she played the concerned friend. Maybe we should go up and make sure Linda’s okay.

Part of me is going to hell for this, I know. But I can’t help it.

I’ll lead the way. Mrs. Cummings said, as Kendra pulled the door closed behind her and she followed the older woman to the elevator.

Pushing the button pointing up, Mrs. Cummings looked at Kendra as she walked to her left. You were just watching television? No plans tonight?

Kendra shook her head, fishing a pair of plastic tortoiseshell glasses out of her pocket. The stems were folded down so she unfolded them and placed them on her face. I had a rough week at work. I’m pretty tired.

The mature woman inspected the glasses. Those ones are nice. I like the pink ones too.