Operation Welcome Wagon

2 hours later, the cookies were done, and The Banshee was no more on board with Operation Welcome Wagon than she was before I started.

Pishaw, I argued. You're being silly. This is just one person doing something nice for another. It's meaningless!

If it's so meaningless, why have you been standing in front of you closet for the last 20 minutes trying to figure out what to wear? What's wrong with the Eeyore sweatpants and grey T-shirt you've got on now? The Banshee questioned.

Ha. Ha ha. What kind of statement would I be making if I showed up at his door unannounced looking like this?

What kind of statement are you going to be making showing up at his door unannounced, period? Who's the stalker now, freak?

Crap. She kinda had a point. It wasn't like Brandon had told me which apartment was his. In fact, I only assumed he lived on the first floor because he walked towards the first floor hall after my elevator came that night. What if he really lived on the top floor and just didn't want to get in the elevator with me because he thought I was insane and took the stairs instead?

Exactly... The Banshee remarked.

Shit. The only way to find out was to check out the call-box listings. That's organized by last name. Brandon did not tell me his last name. He could be Brandon anybody.

How're you gonna solve this one, smartypants? The Banshee questioned, mocking me and my attempts to do something nice for someone.

I'll figure it out, I said, determined not to let her win.

I finished getting ready and in attempt to seem inconspicuous, "remembered" I left one of my favorite CDs in my car. Recalling the general area Brandon pointed to when showing me his name on the call box that night, and as I walked (slowly) out the vestibule, I strained my eyes to scan the list of last names to find one that had the initial "B" following after it.

As luck would have it, there were 3.

I ran to my car, grabbed the CD and as I came back into the vestibule, I "fumbled" with my keys, much like that night I met Brandon, dropping them just below the call box name list. Reaching for my keys, I slowly stood, my eyes fixed on the name list, trying to figure out which, if any of those last names that had a "B" initial following, belonged to the particular "B" I was seeking out.

The first "B" on the list lived on the top floor.

See? He totally tried to avoid you that night. Cookies? BAD IDEA! The Banshee chirped, once again making her opinion on the matter known.

The second "B" lived on the 3rd floor, and the final "B"? BINGO - it had a glorious numero uno after it. That's right, somebody with the first initial "B" lived on the first floor.

My heart skipped a beat. I hurriedly unlocked the door before anyone could see me lingering longer than necessary and the went to check my mail in an attempt to stall for more time. I wanted to make sure nobody would be coming or going as I slinked over to the apartment my "B" lived in.

When I was sure the coast was clear, I made my way around the corner to the hall leading to the first floor apartments. Holding my breath, I counted off the units until I came to the one that my "B" supposedly lived.

I stopped in front of the door, crestfallen. There, beneath the unit number was a sign that read: BUILDING SUPERINTENDENT

IDIOT! I thought to myself. Of course it's the super's unit. I'd lived in that building for nearly 6 years and knew full well the super's name was Bart and that he lived on the first floor.

You are so dumb. The Banshee could be so kind.

Before anyone could see me standing there, outside Bart's apartment, I turned and ran up the stairs up to my apartment...