The August Project

There was definitely something to be said about friendly people. Not that I minded talking to new people, in fact I loved it. It was just…I’m not exactly allowed to talk to boys, or anyone really. My parents say it’s dangerous and that boys are only after one thing. What that one thing is, I haven’t a clue, but apparently I’ve got it. Do they want Moo Cow? My auntie gave me Moo Cow and there was no way these boys could have him. He was my stuff cow buddy.

I sighed quietly to myself as I washed the dishes from this evening’s dinner. It was kind of sad to me, actually. Mother and Father would most certainly not approve of me talking to these boys. Though, what about the whole ‘love thy neighbour’ thing? That seemed like it could possibly apply in this situation. Besides, the boys seemed perfectly nice.

That was another thing that I was never going to understand about Mother and Father. Why was I not allowed to talk to them if they were nice? I could understand if they were mean and teased me, but they were perfectly welcoming. Huh. Parents were odd creatures, were they not? It seemed that at least mine were.

The sun was setting, though there was still plenty of light out. When the dishes were done I headed upstairs to change; I had splashed some water on myself accidentally. After grabbing a light pink tank top and throwing on a dark pink hoodie on top, I slipped on my jeans and flip flops and wandered outside.

I had to blink the little buggies away from my eyes. Thank goodness for freaking bug spray. As I was spraying myself wildly to rid myself of the flying little creatures, I heard someone calling for me from the house.

“Delilah! Get inside, your father would like to have a word with you,” my mother’s curt voice called to me from the kitchen window. I sighed and turned around. So much for enjoying the sunset.

“Just who do you think you were talking to earlier this evening?” my father questioned almost immediately as I stepped inside. The screen door didn’t even have time to close behind me before his eyes were glaring through my skull. Huh. What an odd saying. It didn’t feel like there were holes in my skull. I wanted to look in a mirror, but frankly I was slightly frightened by father’s anger and annoyance.

“They spoke to me first, so I thought it would be polite to answer them,” I shrugged lightly and played with the string on my hoodie.

“I have told you a thousand times not to talk to strangers,” he said strictly. “Especially boys. They’re only after on thing, you know.” What was this one thing?! Though my mind was frantically searching for the answer, my mouth was more aware of the fact that I probably should have replied to him.

“Jed lives next door,” I said softly. “Shouldn’t I get to know the neighbours? God wants us to love thy neighbour.”

“There are exceptions,” he said with his arms folded across his chest.

“But Father--” I started to say before I was cut off.

“You cannot speak to him if you are by yourself,” he stated.

“But--”

“No buts,” he said. “My decision is final. I’m only keeping you safe, Delilah,” he claimed. Somewhere there was a hint of doubt in me, but I would never dare to question my father. That was an awful thing to do, not to mention disrespectful.

“Yes, Father,” I said, sighing only somewhat. He eyed me suspiciously, but before anything else could be said, the doorbell rang. I followed him to the door to see who it was, though it wasn’t as if I knew anyone in the neighbourhood.

When father opened the door, there were three people standing there. Two older people I did not recognize and one younger person I did.

“Hi, I’m Rebecca, this is my husband Andrew, and our son, Jed,” the smiling lady said. “We just thought we’d give you a friendly welcome to the neighbourhood.”

“Why thank you,” my father said, instantly putting on his nice face and smiling happily. “This is my daughter, Delilah, and my wife, Mary, is upstairs,” he said. “I’m John, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Well hello there,” Rebecca smiled happily and held out a plate of something that looked to be rather tasty. “I brought a bit of a welcoming gift. Cookies!” My eyes almost glazed over at the thought of the delicious treat, but chances were that Father would not allow me to have any. Even though I don’t perform anymore, they still have me on my silly diet. Grr.

“Oh isn’t that just lovely?” father said. Why couldn’t he be this nice to me? Oh well. “Delilah, how about you take those into the kitchen.”

“Yes, Father,” I said, smiling obediently at him and then sweetly at the lady who handed me the plate of cookies. I took them into the kitchen and lifted up the edge of the plastic wrap. I’d never had a cookie before. Wait, no, that wasn’t the complete truth. I’ve only ever had two cookies in my life before and one was burnt. I snuck a small one out and put the plastic wrap back perfectly and started to nibble around the edges of the cookie. It felt like Heaven had landed in my mouth.

From the other room I could hear Father making small talk with the people that called themselves Rebecca and Andrew, and soon my mother floated down from upstairs to join in on the conversation. Mother pretended to be a very social person, but she was always saying bad things about people behind their back. This was something I had yet to understand, considering my parents taught me that it was wrong to speak ill of people.

“I never knew cookies were sins, love,” a voice suddenly came behind me. I squealed slightly and jumped, the bite of cookie lodging itself in my throat. I coughed in attempts to get it out, but then I felt his hand patting my back. “Gosh there’s no reason to lose your cookies over a little banter and a bad joke.”

“Well, technically they’re your mother’s cookies,” I said once I could both breathe and talk again. I looked up at him and bit my lip a little bit, praying that my father did not come into the room. Did this count as being in the same room as him alone?

“Now who’s making bad jokes,” he replied.

“I’m sorry?” I asked, somewhat confused. What joke? I thought for a moment and looked at him quizzically. No, I hadn’t recalled making a joke. Perhaps he had an inner ear problem?

“Well love, there’s no need to waste time explaining jokes that should never have come out of my face to begin with,” he said, picking a cookie up and taking a bite. For a moment I thought he was done talking, but while he ate the cookie he appeared to be able to talk through mouthfuls. “They are delicious, aren’t they? Still, not quite as good as Anthony, but it’ll do in a pinch.”

“Anthony’s cookies you mean? Well I never had them before,” I said.

“Well, if you want to call them that,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders lightly.

“I didn’t know there was another name for them,” I said, confused by his reply. Was there something else people called cookies? Edible hockey pucks? Though I suppose those would probably be more commonly referred to as biscuits.

“Well, hun, when it comes to Anthony, he’s got another name for everything,” he explained, though I dare say his explanation was not very thorough.

“Okay,” I mumbled, somewhat unsure of what he meant. I looked down at the cookie in my hand and shyly took the last bite of it. It was gone forever; I was kind of sad now. It had been a very delicious cookie. I looked up at him with my bright blue eyes and cocked my head to the side a little. “Father said I’m not allowed to talk to you unless we’re with someone else.”

“Well that’s a bit absurd isn’t it? I mean, we’re just talking. What does he think could possibly happen? If it makes him feel better I can get Anthony over here in no time,” he said. Jed paused thoughtfully for a moment, then added on, “Though if I do get him over here we may not exactly be too worried about you.”

What did that even mean? I blinked and scratched my head for a second and decided to leave well enough alone.

“Can you grab the plastic wrap for me, please?” she asked sweetly. “It’s at the top of the pantry and I can’t reach it.” There’s a lot of this I couldn’t reach, quite frankly. I was fairly short, which made me good at gymnastics but bad at shelves. “There’s a spot that isn’t covered.”

Jed nodded and went over to the pantry, but the plastic wrap was never brought down to me. Something else seemed to have caught his eye and made him very, very, happy.

“OH MY GOD MARSHMALLOWS! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a smore? I don’t even think I’m allowed to pluralize it, it’s been so long,” he said. He seemed rather excited, but I hadn’t a clue what he was talking about.

“What’s a smore?” I asked innocently.

“Only the best thing you will ever eat, love,” he said, grabbing the bag and then my hand. “I cannot believe you don’t even know what this little bite of Heaven even is. Oh no, hunny, you are so eating one before the night is over. Though not too many, wouldn’t want to ruin that perfect little figure of yours.”

“Erm, okay,” I said nervously as I was rushed outside.

Oh dearie, what was Father going to say about this?