She hated being in this predicament. What she hated more was admitting this to herself. Rationalizing, she tried to be stern and chided herself for her behavior. Face her fear! Grab the bull by the horn! Go! Surely each and every adult on this earth surely must have one type of fear or another, was it? In fact, she thought, it's probably one of those things that make people unique in their own way.
She continued to stand there, immobile. Her hands twisting and clutching at her blouse so tight, that one of the buttons started to become loose. Her legs twisted; her feet, digging into the threadbare carpet.
It was not going to be that hard, she told herself. But then she could not help but be angry with her nanny for leaving her all alone. Why today of all days did she have to leave for town? Her long time nanny knew very well that she couldn’t cook. And while she knew that it was out of her nanny’s concern why she found herself in this predicament, she still couldn’t help but be angry.
They were moving tomorrow so movers had taken away all the furniture in the house earlier. The paper plates and cups were on the kitchen table. All that was missing was the food they’d be having until tomorrow morning.
If only her nanny delayed her departure until the man at the door got there, she would have done okay.
Her stomach growled as the doorbell rang for the third time. With a great effort, she spoke tentatively from behind the door.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Pizza delivery, ma’am! Please open the door.”
“Could you find a way to slide the pizza through the door, please?”
“You want me to do what, ma’am?”
“Could you find a way to slide the pizza through the door without my having to open it?”
“I don’t think that would work, ma’am. Your door is flush against the front step. Is your door busted, ma’am?”
“No. Not really.”
“Then just please open it, ma’am. I would appreciate it. I still have several deliveries to make. I pay for cold pizzas delivered, you know.”
“Yes, but I am sorry. I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?”
“I have this fear of opening doors.”
Silence followed. “Well, I can understand that ma’am but I’m not about to pay for a pizza that you ordered and got delivered cold simply because you are afraid of opening the door. It’s easy. It won’t bite. Just gently put your hand on the handle, unlock it and turn it slowly.”
She figured she had no other choice in this predicament. So with a deep breath and one eye closed, she turned the latch and held the cold doorknob with her left hand. Slowly, she turned the knob until the door opened and pulled.
“Here’s your pizza. That’ll be $10.00.”
Disbelieving what had just happened, all she could do was faint.
The End.
