2

Vroo... plim!

A man typed on his phone while the door to the elevator opened. Helen and Logan disengaged from each other, trying not to call unnecessary attention. Canadians like to keep silly things about themselves for themselves. Most of them don't like showing around their personal lives or even judging others' lives. Peacefulness and discretion were the words, and Helen liked it... despite of sometimes missing the gossip and made up stories that were spread like illness across her home town.

The strange man on the phone (or the strangers should be themselves?) stepped forward out of the elevator like a machine stepping into work, still looking down at the screen. He had a plastic bag in one hand... Ohoo! They both recognized it as no other bag but an original London Drugs' bag... the one, that was it, what a coincidence! Mr Brickwood looked at Mrs Brickwood; Mrs Brickwood looked at Mr Brickwood.

"Hm, hello", said Logan.

The stranger looked up. "Hello", he repeated, and changed hands with the phone to stretch it as a compliment. It was fast, he was soon making his way past them without saying his name or asking for their Snapchat accounts. He paused in front of another apartment and turned his body to reach his back pocket, and that was when the London Drugs' bag fell. More than a dozen square shaped pockets were spread on the floor. They were the size of post-its and had all types of brands and flavors stamped on their surfaces. Helen widened her eyes. Logan wrinkled. The stranger squatted smoothly to pick all little pockets up, shoving them again into the bag, and then, as if nothing out of ordinary had happened, walked into his apartment and closed the door.

"Dude..." Logan murmured. But Helen could not talk; she had a bad feeling and was certain it wouldn't go away so fast. That stranger certainly lived opposite her and gave her the creeps with all those condoms."Hey", Logan slowly reached for her hands and picked up the keys to their house. "Let's enter, don't think about it."

She followed him in silent, looking down at the ground as though something had ashamed her. But that was when she saw, build right there onto the living room's floor... a miniature of a house, with a backyard and mini hockey field attached. It was all made of plaster and paper and in the center of the house's door was a plaque written Ap2: Home sweet home. 

Helen covered her mouth. Her fiance embraced from behind, he felt her hair and placed a kiss on her earlobe, and they soon moved to the sofa they had spent a day choosing the coloured cushions to accomplish their dream. For some minutes Helen and Logan Brickwood talked about the past and present and future, putting aside the problems of a grownup life. They remembered the weird circumstances of their first meeting, of Logan's shy behavior and Helen's good energy, and how lovely a couple of opposite personalties and from different countries suddenly had become husband and wife. Oh, how they hoped this future came soon...

🚪🔨🚪

It came like a rocket. Helen Logan Brickwood married, the special date had come and gone, they knew their lives would change completely even though they'd been living together long time before the marriage. The home moving from Vancouver (where they did collage) to the little apartment in Maple Ridge was recent, though, and they were happy to discover new things everyday:

"WE CAN NOT STAY HERE ANY LONGER, LOGAN!"

"Calm down, dude! I will talk to him-"

"You've talked already! You knocked on his door a MILLION times! And what did you receive? A big curse! No wonder he is capable of castrating you with a knife of cutting beef!"

Logan hugged her, caressing her hair. He had a sad look on the face, but his insides were itching to go across the hall and punch that son of a bitch's face.

There were screams and more screams of women which never ended. Shrill cries, laughter and loud moans. Explosive songs that could distort the walls, with obscene lyrics and obscene words that didn't even made sense to them, specially for Helen. And more screams, laugher and music throughout 8 interminable hours; every weekend, no stop, no recess, no tiredness, no disgust!

He squeezed her against his chest. She felt the little belly that had been born between them after the marriage. From Helen, of course, because she ate too much Mc Donald's. Logan was Canadian and Canadians eat carrots for the morning's snack. He was the type of healthy man with big shoulders and a squared face, with a beautiful jaw. His jaw was the thing that made him look like a prince. Helen admired that jaw very much, indeed, and was thankful he shaved constantly, because she liked it bare.

"This place was supposed to be ours..." she said.

"We will make it be, dude."

"How? If we have hell as a neighbour? If we can't even sleep?"

Logan kissed her mouth. "Damn this neighbour, because we don't have to sleep either."

She smiled against him, and her smile became a giggle, and her giggle became a laugh, and soon Helen was convulsing.

"Oh my God, Helen!" Logan held her so she wouldn't throw herself on the ground. "That wasn't supposed to be so funny at all!"

She could only answer something like "Ashkakababum..!"

"Dude," Logan was beginning to chuckle too. He held her face closer to his and squeezed her cheeks with his palms, forming a little pout on her mouth. "Be used to not sleeping, because we won't be doing it today, nor tomorrow, nor next month..." he looked at her fondly. "We have only 9 months preparing ourselves to fall in love for a lifetime." He kissed her mouth, that now was immobile, because she had stopped laughing.

Nine months? Eternal love?

"Logan!" She jumped on him, crossing her legs behind his waist, and kissing every inch of soft jaw she could find. Yes, if Mr Brickwood was prepared to be a father, so was Mrs Brickwood to be a mother. And they would be the best parents a little girl or little boy would ask for... would they?

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- Bella