Fear

 

(We all get spooked from time to time.)

Yesterday, one of my friends called me at 7 p.m.

He said, “Are you home?”

I said, “Yes.”

“I’ve got a big favor to ask.”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Somebody is knocking on my door, and he won’t stop. It’s been twenty minutes, and he just keeps on ringing the damn doorbell.”

I sighed heavily. “So what would you like me to do?”

“Can you come to my apartment? Maybe if he sees you, he’ll go away.”

“OK, but give me a couple of minutes to get dressed.”

I understood his logic perfectly. I’m a white man living in South Korea. The natives often get spooked by my color. For instance, all I have to do to change lanes when I drive in heavy traffic is stick my big ghost face out the window. As soon as they see that I’m Caucasian, the traffic immediately slows to a crawl and I’m given the right of way. Don’t get me wrong. The Koreans aren’t physically intimidated by a soft doughy geezer from America. Yet something about my pale skin makes them very deferential toward me.

I walked into the living room and talked briefly with the Dragon Lady.

I said, “I have to go help a friend.”

She scowled at me. “In da night? You fliend must be clazy. Dat not normah in Kolea.”

I shrugged. “Normal or not, the guy needs me. Besides, it’s only a little past seven. No big deal.”

Rice-Boy Larry said, “What does he need, Dad?”

“Some crazy guy keeps knocking at his door and ringing the bell.”

A look of fear spread over my son’s face. “Are you nuts? You might get your head bashed in.”

I smiled. “I’m sure it won’t come to that.”

The Dragon Lady said, “You faddah da idiot.”

“Hey, I’m not an idiot. I’m helping a neighbor in need.”

To make a long story short, I went to his building. He lives on the 20^th floor, and I’m not going to lie to you. I started getting a bit spooked because the corridor was dark. I kept imagining a big angry man lurking in the shadows who was poised to hit me on the head with a metal pipe. But nobody was there. Not a soul.

I took out my smartphone and called my friend.

I said, “I’m right outside your place. Can you let me in?”

He undid the lock, and I stepped inside.

He said, “Thanks for coming.”

I nodded. “Not a problem. Think nothing of it. Nobody is out there.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

Suddenly, his doorbell sounded. A look of panic and distress passed over his face. It was so pronounced that I actually thought he might begin to weep.

He said, “Would you mind getting it?”

My heart started jumping in my chest. “Sure. Why not?”

I opened the door expecting the worst. In fact, my hands were curled into tight fists because I was anticipating a fight. But once again, nobody was there. I looked left and right. Nothing but emptiness.

I turned to him. “Not a soul. My guess is that your doorbell is probably malfunctioning.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I thought it was my upstairs neighbor.”

“Why? Do you have a beef with him or something?”

“He smokes, and he has a dog. So I reported him to security.”

“How do you know that he smokes?”

“I can smell it in my bathroom.”

“Don’t let your imagination get the better of you. I’d put my money on a technical malfunction.”

He gave me some fruit and a bag of cereal as a gesture of thanks. I patted him on the shoulder and walked home.