He Kept Calling Me Miss, Until I Was

Knock-Knock—A Simple Mistake

The knocking on the door woke me up. I rolled over and checked my alarm clock. It was already noon, which meant Mom was working. I moved back in with my mom after college, as Work was hard to find. Even now, I find myself sleeping in on a Monday.

Which looked like it wasn’t going to happen. I sighed and picked myself out of bed and went to the door. “Sorry, mom’s not home.” I didn’t bother opening the door and just leaned against it to hear the messenger’s response.

“Oh, sorry, Miss.. I’ll come back and try again tomorrow.”

Did he just call me Miss? I paused for a second. Having an eternal debate about correcting him. By the time I decided I would correct him, he was already on his way. I shrugged and decided to get on with my own day. If he came by tomorrow, I would correct him then.

Knock-Knock—Still a Mistake?

I rolled over in bed and saw that it was once again noon. I had almost forgotten about the messenger who said he would be back today. Mom was still at work, so it was up to me to get the door once more. Standing up and walking over to the door, I began, “Hey, sorry-”

There was no reason not to open the door. It would be obvious that I wasn’t the ‘miss’ he thought I was. Swinging the door open, I responded, “Hey, sorry, mister, but my mom is still out.”

The guy was decent-looking and a few inches taller than me. He was wearing some kind of uniform. It was for whatever company he was trying to promote. Not to mention the reason he was going door-to-door. He looked to be in good shape. It was a given due to how much he walked every day.

“Oh, sorry, Miss. From your bedside, it looks like I just woke you up. I’ll try again tomorrow,” he said and lifted his hand in a very familiar wave.

“I-” he was already off heading down to the neighbor’s house. I felt myself blush a vivid crimson. Being called a Miss to my face, especially by a handsome guy, made me feel a bit off.

I lifted my hand to my hair and felt it. I suppose it had been a while since I got a haircut. My nice black hair had grown down and reached well past my shoulder. Not to mention, it was a total mess.

Twirling one finger through my hair and giving it a good brushing tonight wouldn’t be impossible. I would even try and get up a bit early tomorrow to give it some love and care before he comes back.

Knock-Knock–Why Does This Feel Nice?

The brush in my hair paused mid-stroke. I had forced myself to get up at 11 to brush my hair. With it now neat and tidy and out of my face, I was certain he wouldn’t mistake me for a ‘miss’ again.

This time, I opened the door and gave him my best smile, “Sorry, but it looks like my mom still isn’t around.” Did I put a slight tilt to my voice?

“Oh, it is the pretty young miss again,” the guy chuckled. “Your hair looks nice today.” His eyes flickered down over my outfit. While I had gotten up early to do my hair, I was still in a pair of rough grey sweatpants and an oversized sleeping shirt.

My head was still reeling from the realization of how I was presenting myself. He was already trotting off next door before I even realized it. I sighed as I remembered I still hadn’t corrected him and presented myself in a sloppy outfit. He called me miss again.

Then I paused for a few seconds as I recalled his exact words, “Pretty young miss.” He didn’t just call me a miss, but pretty as well. A quick intake of sharp breath. It wouldn’t hurt to put a little more effort into my look tomorrow.

A quick trip to my closet, and I looked through the options.

Knock-Knock–A Little Effort Won’t Hurt…

I had done my hair up and pulled it aside to reveal more of my face. I borrowed some of my mom’s barrettes to tame its unruliness. A nice black tank top looked sporty, and a pair of skinny jeans helped complete the look. I wanted to give off the impression I had been working out.

“Hey there, miss,” he greeted me. “Your mom is still not home, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said and swept some of the loose hair out of my face, “looks like it.”

“Well, maybe tomorrow then.” He lifted his hand up and wiped some sweat from his brow. “My skin is drying out from all this heat. I need to start up a skincare routine like the little miss.” He ended it with a small laugh.

I wanted to correct him, but found myself laughing, or more like giggling, at the comment. By the time I realized what was going on, he had already bounded off onto the sidewalk. He didn’t seem to waste any time.

Closing the door, I wandered back into the hallway and the bathroom and checked out my face. He wasn’t lying, and the summer heat was doing a number even to my skin while I sat in the air-conditioned house.

It was time I added a bit of skincare to my routine. My mom kept her face moisturizer on the bathroom sink, so I added a dab of it to my hand and rubbed it in. There were even some rough and uneven patches here and there. I need to do something to smooth them out.

There was something else in the back of my mind from his comment today. Today, he had just called me ‘miss,’ not ‘pretty miss.’

Knock-Knock–I Can’t Let Him See My Truth

I was wrapping up my new skincare routine when the knocks came. My mom’s face moisturizer came with a bit of a strawberry scent, but I liked it. Heck, I preferred it over the body spray smell of my high school years.

While the moisturizer was doing its job, it didn’t do anything to cover the rough patches I noticed. Nothing big on the day-to-day, but enough that I noticed it while I focused on it. The door-to-door salesman would too. I could’ve left it, but I wanted to look my best, so I dabbled a bit in my mom’s make-up kit and found her foundation.

With a nice, even complexion and a fruity strawberry scent, I answered the door once more.

“Looking as pretty as ever, Miss,” the man stated, this time with a doff of his cap before giving his face a small frown. “Looks like I’ll be coming by tomorrow too.”

The thought of correcting him pushed itself out of my mind as I realized what he had said, “Tomorrow?” Tomorrow was Saturday. Mom would be home and would be able to send him on his way.

“Yup, gotta do the rounds every day, except Sunday, of course, Miss.”

I was too much in a stupor to realize he had already walked off. I was a bit flummoxed as I tried to figure this out. If my mom answered the door, that would send him off for good.

That was when my heart turned to dread. He could tell her that a ‘pretty miss’ had answered the door every day this week. There was no way I could explain that to my mom. She would think I had been inviting girls over every day while she was at work and getting kicked out of the house. Or, worse, think that I was pretending to be a girl.

I had to buy myself one more day to set things right.

Knock-Knock–He Sees Me, He Likes Me

Mom was a bit surprised to have me offer to do all the chores around the house. Offering to do so so she could take today off and relax with her friends. But it was a necessary sacrifice for today.

I fussed once more with the laundry machine; the thing was ancient, and it had finally managed to dry our clothes. I tossed the dried load into the basket. Wiping my hands on the apron I wore to keep myself clean while doing chores, I rushed to the door.

“Greetings, Miss,” he said once more as he looked around the house. “Looks like I caught you in the middle of something. Guess it is true what my mom says, ‘a woman’s work is never done’.”

“My mom says the same thing.”

“Makes sense they are friends.”

That comment floored me as I tried to grasp what he was saying. “They are?”

“Yeah, it is why I keep coming by. Well, that and to see you.”

Okay, that off-hand comment floored me even more. “You do?”

For the first time, he seemed a bit off guard, “Yeah. My company is hiring, and your mom’s son, or your brother, I guess, needs a job. So I am supposed to drop off an application with her. So she can try and talk him into it.”

This was my best chance to correct him. I was a little floored by his comments and super flattered. I didn’t get hit on by many girls in my college years. It was why his ‘pretty miss’ comments kept hitting home with me.

I would ask for the application, promise to give it to my mom, and-

“You would look super cute in that dress.”

It was another free off-the-cuff comment. One of those that popular guys could throw out to cute girls. The exception was that this time, I was the cute girl. My eyes went to the laundry basket and saw one of my mom’s dresses had wound up on top.

“I-I-I,” my voice caught in my throat, and I stammered, missing him as he once again was off.

Knock-Knock—If I’m a Pretty Miss… Then So Be It

I practically swung the door open with how fast my heart was pounding. I had my hair swept back, revealing my face with a fresh layer of makeup on it. A strawberry scent wafted from me due to my mom’s perfume and I was dressed in her Sunday best. A cute frock went down to my knees and ballooned out. This was due to the petticoat I was sporting beneath it.

“Hey there, pretty miss.”

“Hey there, handsome Mister,” I responded and for the first time, I seemed to have scored a point over him.

“Mom’s still not home, I take it?” he said with a smile.

“Afraid not, just me.”

“I guess I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Actually,” I stated, leaning in. “How about I take that application from you?”

His face seemed to fall a little, “I-I suppose that works. Guess I won’t be coming around here anymore.” He paused for a little too long before adding, “And I won’t be seeing you anymore.”

I cut in, “Don’t think you’ll get rid of me like that. I’m looking for work too. Think there’s room for a ‘pretty miss’ at your company.” After all, dresses weren’t cheap.