‘Hey, come over tonight Violet. The guy who’s bought my house is stopping by, you should meet him.’
I’ve been dreading meeting my new neighbour, conjuring up all these stories in my head. What if he’s obnoxious, noisy, has loud sex or is ugly.
I didn’t want to go.
But in the spirit of being a good citizen, and also a little curious, I said yes.
‘Okay thanks. I won’t stay long though, I have a deadline.’
Deadlines are always my excuse to get out of something.
Mom, is there anything for dinner?
Oops I have a deadline.
Let’s go on a date.
Oops I have a deadline.
Are we ever gonna have sex again Violet.
Oops I have a deadline.
Anyway, I had a shower, threw on some clothes, a little lipstick and popped over with a bottle of wine in hand.
It was noisy inside. My soon to be neighbour had brought his friends with him.
‘Which one is he?’ I gestured to my current neighbour.
‘In the garden. He’s the one in pink.’
I went outside.
‘So we can plant here,’ I heard him saying.
‘If we take out these bushes we can have a large crop.’
‘Check the light, woohoo, bumper crop coming our way.’
‘Hiya,’ I said, in my neighbourly way. ‘Nice to meet you, I’m Violet.’
‘Oh hi Violet, heard so much about you, we’re going to be next door, well I am, I’ve bought the house, but hey, these are my friends, they spend a lot of time with me.’
I leaned in to shake everyone’s hands. Four guys. One girl. All gorgeous and beautifully dressed.
And very friendly.
And very gay.
No prospective lovers for me in this lot.
But they were really cool and I was glad I’d come over, cleaned up, made a bit of an effort.
We sat down. These things are always a little awkward in the beginning.
‘So you’re into gardening,’ I said, thinking of the conversation I’d overheard. ‘That’s cool. We can swap veggies over the wall.’
They were all super enthusiastic.
‘Yay fantastic brilliant excellent, darling.’
‘We have good soil,’ I carried on. ‘My vegetables kind of take care of themselves, like there are bodies buried in the garden or something.’
They all looked pleased as punch.
‘What do you grow Violet?’
‘Bit of everything. Tomatoes, spinach, strawberries. Giant aubergines. You?’
‘We grow marijuana. We farm it.’
Oh.
Right.
You know when you make a total fool of yourself?
I made a total fool of myself.
I launched into every little dagga story I’ve ever had including cookies that I ate once by mistake, other cookies that my housekeeper had eaten by mistake, the joint I took on a hike and hid in my socks and then lost my socks, and oh god I called it dagga and nobody calls it dagga anymore, it’s weed, it’s cannabis, it’s marijuana, Violet why don’t you just shut up sometimes, they grow fucking marijuana they don’t need your silly stories from a hundred years ago.
‘Are you gonna have a meth lab too?’ I asked.
‘Maybe,’ they laughed.
I laughed too.
Hahahahahahahahaha.
They asked me what I did.
‘I write about sex,’ I told them. ‘Sometimes I also have it.’
‘Like an escort agency? You’re a hooker? A sex worker?’
Oh god, this was not going well.
No no, but sex and sex toys and men and women and I was blabbering like crazy again.
They were looking at me. Quizzically.
‘Oops I have a deadline,’ I said.
I left.
They grow marijuana.
They may have a meth lab.
They think I’m a hooker.
I used the words dagga.
I made a total fool of myself.
I’m gonna miss my old neighbours.
Still. It’s gonna be great.
New people in the hood.
Marijuana.
Maybe a little meth.
We’re gonna get high.
Welcome!
Thank god I’ve met my deadlines.
