A Letter of Perception and Perspective

To Ms Darlington (At Apartment 5/12),

I wanted to write to you to explain myself. A little background information – my name is Dereck Disenti, and I am 48 years old. I almost said, “48 years young,” but I abhor it when folks say that. I have worked as a night watchman for the last 2 years at the apartment complex you call home. We have exchanged pleasantries – little nods and smiles here and there. You are one of the friendlier residents. It’s always disappointing that you seem in a rush, as I never get enough chance to speak to you when I am on my shift.

You light up even the drabbest of afternoons spent for me in the lobby or stalking the corridors and stairwells of Pinewood Place. I want you to know that before I go any further, as I have always wanted to tell you that. You are a credit to humanity and a cherished resident here at Pinewood Place. If no one else seems to take note – I do. I felt you should know that.

I take notice of things and people. I appreciate the little things people do that add to the world and those who don’t. You are definitely of the former camp rather than the latter. I saw that you were crying once, and it made me sad to think that such a bright and shining light of goodness and beauty would be upset. I wanted to reach out and help you – even to offer a shoulder to cry on or a bit of whisky from my flask in my little office.

At Christmas, I don’t know if you know, I bought you some chocolates one year past, and left them at your door. I was too shy to knock on the door or ring the bell. I don’t like those Ring things. Pain in the arse if you ask me. Anyway, that’s by-the-by.

Never forget that you matter in life. I don't profess to say I know you well enough to comment on your mindset or emotional well-being.

I remember a good day when you were in that tight pair of denim hot pants you often wear when the temperature hits the 30s. I was sad because my dog had recently died, and I was feeling depressed. You came and sat next to me and put your hand on my thigh. I must tell you that you did stir something else in me beyond being supportive. I am sure that was your intention. Even if you pulled away when I tried to keep your hand. I imagine you were just a little embarrassed. Especially as that crop top you had on was showing how erect your tiny, perky little nipples were.

I had once planned to ask you out on a date. It was a hot and humid summer afternoon in late July when the AC in the building was on the blink. Again. You wore an exceptionally light blue and ever so slightly transparent summer dress that clung to your body as the heat and sweat undoubtedly held it in place. Nothing was left to my imagination. Your curves and your exposed pale-fleshed knees were a delight to behold. Your hair hung over your shoulders, reaching down to your chest. Your pretty, plump smile was highlighted sexily by that rouge lipstick you wear often. I still remember the smell of something sweeter and more decadent than the average Marc Jacobs or Chanel fragrance. As the curious aroma of floral notes, fresh sweat, deodorant and lust filled my lungs and brought my body to life, I stumbled over my words and awkwardly let you slip into the one remaining space in the lift.

I must seem perverse or some weirdo loser. Why would a girl like you choose a guy like me anyway? After all, I’m sure you’d rather go out and jump the bones of someone a little younger with a slender body and dresses in fancy designer gear. Wouldn’t you? Then I started to think, wait, Dereck, she smiled at me. You smiled at me, Ms Darlington. You smiled at me, Amelia. Do you mind if I call you Amelia? We are, after all, on speaking terms, aren’t we? We say hi, and we smile. You smile back. I’m not imagining that, am I? There’s a connection. There is a definite connection. Unless you are taking pity on me or leading me on to get your jollies? Would you do that, Amelia? Speak to your latest hunky man about the weird nightwatchman with the beard and the pot belly? As you ride the latest in your impossibly long line of bastards that will never return for another roll in the hay. Speak about the greasy, bearded Dereck.

I tell you what, Amelia. You need to get your head out of your arse and stop getting bent over the kitchen counter by the latest tanned young thing on your arm. Choose a real man if you can handle a real man. Like me. I would never abandon you after one roll in the hay. If I chose to let you share my bed, you’d never get out for more than a little bath or shower or to make me a sandwich. It’s what you need in your life. Dereck. Amelia Disenti sounds good to me. You need stability and to settle down, Amelia. You won’t be of childbearing age for long, will you? I mean, I only know that you are 31 because you and your noisy friends disturbed Ol’ Mr Wurthers across the corridor from you. It was not a good show, Amelia. Don’t worry, though. I cleared things up for you and ensured they knew it wouldn't happen again. You will make sure of that, won’t you?

You need to be more considerate, dear. You need to think about what you are doing in life and where you are going. You need to settle down, and soon, you’ll need to beg to settle for a man like me. So, stop looking down your nose at me. I’ve seen the type of lowlifes that come home with you, and I have heard the noises coming from your apartment at all hours of the night. Such a dirty little thing, aren’t you? Too scared to get with a real man? Only pick those guys who will beg for your attention and satisfy your selfish desires.

I wouldn’t be like that. I’d take you under my wing and care for you while giving your life order and stability. No late nights, no drunken stumbles back to your apartment with next to nothing on putting it all out on display like a proper little slut. You’d be my slut and no one else’s.

So, Amelia. I will be here waiting for you. I look forward to hearing your response.

Regards,

Dereck Disenti

P.S. – As the nightwatchman, I know everything that happens in the apartment complex. Just making sure you understand that.

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: For the Unreliable Challenge. Thoughts? I hope you enjoyed it! I need to shower to wash the Dereck out of my mind.

Here are some other things.