I stole his apples

We were approaching the gazebo and the dog kept following us as if on guard in case of emergency.

The huge dog glared at me or perhaps, I was just imagining it. I was certain of one thing though, that it would attack at the slightest sense of danger. I stupidly refrained from expressing my fear. I drew closer to Mr Addison, in fear of the dog.

I was sure, he wondered why I came so close to him as if struggling to get into the gazebo before him. He stopped for a moment, look at me in amazement but said nothing. He simply shook his head, glancing at my frightened face and gave way for me to get in before him.

"Ladies first." He gestured (go in) with his hands. A warm smile grazed his broad bearded face and I reciprocated.

The gazebo was not very spacious, its concrete walls were about 3 foot high, with a hearth at the base of the rear wall.

The chandelier emitted light in the middle, making it easier to find my way through a set of cream and coffee brown cotton armchairs.

The gazebo was unique, much more like a study than the purpose of relaxation. I sat nervously on the couch closest to the hearthside, as Mr Addison bent over the centre table. He arranged the unusually large books that splattered on the centre table into a pile as he spoke to me,

"Pardon me, I have to take these inside."

"It's okay. I- will just sit here and wait." I said. On looking at the dog, I reiterated, "I'll wait alone."

He could see through my words, acknowledging my fear, I knew these by his mirthful response, "yes, Jasper is coming with me."

"Thank you," I replied.

"I will be right back." He said before leaving.

I sat there savouring the smell of the flowers that were few metres away. The couch was fluffy unlike the one at home. My eyes travelled to all nooks of the gazebo.

The well-carved flowerpots were delicately placed on various sides of the building. The weather was chill, so I rubbed my palms to keep warm. Nothing would please me more than going home.

My eyes trailed further to a small squared basket full of four red crispy apples. It was on the table and it stared furiously at me. No! I lied. The apples were not staring at me.

Although it's not in my habit to do so, I had to. I felt this sudden realization of a compulsory duty that I had neglected and this was: lunch and dinner.

So truthfully, I was staring at the apples. I swallowed hungrily, slyly looking at the apples and looking away. The temptation mounted until my hands betrayed me and I grabbed an apple.

I looked around a second time damning the rules as I took the first bite, then the second and the third. I munched it hungrily, savouring the sweet taste of this organic fruit, as it enchanted my taste buds. I enjoyed every bite and grabbed one more.

It was passed twilight already, the young night was welcomed with the buzzy sound of happy fireflies. They glittered in the dark atmosphere, multiplying by the passing of each second.

While I ate, I could perceive a dissonant smell. It was not the sweet smell of apple. My nose searched until I uncovered the truth. The sad truth that I had not bathed all day.

"Gosh! I stink!"

My wrinkled nose sent an expression of displeasure. "Keren, what is wrong with you? How could you forget this!" I queried.

The sweaty smell was not so musty but I was overly self-conscious. Who wouldn't be? I felt so embarrassed, regretting why I got close to him.

At once, I brought my nose to my underarm but the stench chased me, "Ew..." My face twitched in disgust.

"Could it be," I wondered, "that he noticed my stench?" Genuine concern was written over my face, I wished I could disappear. I pouted frustratingly, "He hates me now. He must think I'm a dirty girl. No one likes a dirty girl."

"He won't notice you, don't you see?" My inner voice disputed, "take a look at yourself."

I obeyed my inner voice and looked at my shitty self, poor farmer's daughter, no education, class, friends, boring life and a complete failure.

"He's way out of your league. Tall, classy, handsome, rich and well-schooled. He'd lived all his life abroad, exposed to the most pretty, top-notch ladies. He might even be married or engaged. Even if he's not, you and all your rags don't stand a chance."

If my inner voice was a person, she would have been my enemy. A cruel villain who knew how to put me down and never let me up. Maybe crushing on my father's boss was not a good idea, but saying it in a mean way was indeed mean. I nodded, "you're right, I don't stand a chance."

My mind travelled to the events that led me to this point in my life. sadly, I had to wallow in what some would call self-pity but truly bad things happen and there was nothing anyone could do about.

It all began three months ago.