The Good Neighbor (20 page)

“What? You like your job.”

“I know. But there’s so much going on. I
haven’t made my decision final yet, but I’m thinking about it. You
go to sleep now. I’ll go sit with Carla today. Don’t worry about
anything. You need to rest.”

He yawned again and I left him to sleep.

I would tell him later that I wasn’t kidding
about not going back to work. With all that was happening and
changing, I felt my time would be better spent at home. I wouldn’t
tell him that now because I wasn’t telling anyone anything until
I’d talked to Andy.

I lay on my back with my head hung off the
bed and stared at the room from this upside-down angle. I was
frustrated. In every possible way.

I’d been jacking off almost constantly. Not
because I wanted to so much as I had to. No sooner did I get rid of
one boner than another one popped up. My arm was tired. My dick was
sore. My balls ached. My ass itched. I stunk. The bed stunk and was
covered in my dried cum. But who cares?

I sighed heavily. I knew without looking or
feeling that my dick was hard. I didn’t understand why. I didn’t
know it was possible to have a boner for so long.

I blamed the whore next door. My dick had
been hard since the moment she moved in. I’d thought that screwing
her would’ve fixed the problem, but it seemed to only have made it
worse. Now, all I could do was think about what it had been like to
do her and how nice it would be to do her again.

Damn.

I got up and walked to the bathroom, kicking
dirty clothes out of my way as I went. The bathroom stunk more than
I did. I kept forgetting to flush the toilet. It didn’t matter. I
was getting ready to add to it.

I sat down and started dropping my smelly
load.

Unable to stand it any longer, I picked up
one of the porn magazines I kept on the floor. I thumbed through
the pages, but each broad had the same face. It was the face of the
whore next door. I threw it down and picked up another one, but it
was the same thing.

I wanted to scream, but it wouldn’t help.

I turned to the fold-out picture in the
center of the magazine and laid it on the floor between my feet. I
spread my legs far enough apart to see it clearly and began
pounding my flesh, once again.

It was growing increasingly difficult to get
rid of a hard-on. I had to use more force and it was taking much
longer. By the time I was finished, I was sweating and breathing
hard.

I leaned down and picked up a towel from the
floor and wiped the gunk off my hand, wondering how it was even
possible to still have gunk left in me. I threw the towel back to
the floor and finished dropping my load.

I remembered to flush this time. I had to
flush twice since the toilet was so full, but finally it sat
empty.

I needed a shower. I really didn’t care about
anything anymore, especially hygiene, but I was tired of smelling
myself. It was a horrible combination of sweat, ass, feet, and of
course cum. I wondered if part of the reason I always had a boner
was because I always smelled sex. Maybe if I washed away that
smell, it would solve my problem. I doubted it, but maybe.

As I stepped into the shower, I remembered
what it used to be like. Back when the shower was clean, the towels
were fresh, and I had soap and shampoo. It seemed like such a long
time ago, another lifetime.

I didn’t want that life any more. That life
had left me. I used to want it back. But I was a different person
then. In the time since, I’d become someone else, someone entirely
different. I’d felt myself changing, but had been unable – and
unwilling – to stop myself from becoming what I was now. Someone
who didn’t give a rat’s ass whether the shower was clean, whether I
had soap or clean towels, or whether I was clean. It just didn’t
matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore.

I used the same cracked bar of soap to wash
my body and my hair. I used no wash cloth. In the old life, I
wouldn’t have even thought of showering without one. Now, who
cared?

When I ran the soap over my dick, I noticed
it was already half-hard again. I dropped my hand to my side and
threw my head back and closed my eyes. I wanted to scream. I wanted
to cry. I wanted to cut the damn thing off. After all, it’s part of
the reason I didn’t have the old life anymore.

I didn’t know what to do about it. Jacking
off wasn’t working. Screwing that broad hadn’t worked. What else
was there?

My eyes snapped open as a few thoughts came
to me at once. There were other ways. I didn’t necessarily like all
of them, but there were other ways to get off. There was
pedophilia, necrophilia, bestiality, and homosexuality for
starters. I really didn’t fancy screwing dead people or animals. At
this point, though, I’d just about try anything. My dick was raw.
It was sore and throbbing. Each hard-on hurt more than the one
before it. I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could stand. I had
to try something.

With butterflies in my stomach, I finished
the shower. For the first time in a couple of weeks, my thoughts
raced around something other than the broad next door.

I stood in front of the mirror naked. I took
a good look at myself and hated what I saw.

Gone was my former self completely now. There
was no sign of the man I’d been. Dark, puffy bags hung under my
eyes. Lines flew out from the corners of my eyes and around my
mouth. The skin under my chin hung down farther than it used to. It
had been years since I’d been clean-shaven. It seemed even after I
shaved these days, I always had rough stubble. My skin had a
yellowish hue to it. And of course, there was the belly. I’d been
fit in my old life. No gut hanging over my pants. But it was there
now. And there was no one to care about it. I certainly didn’t.

I noticed the hair growing from my nostrils
and from my ears. Anyone else would’ve kept those hedges trimmed
back, but not me.

As I stared at myself in that dirty mirror,
standing in my nasty bathroom upstairs in my filthy house, I
realized it was too late. No matter what, it was too late to ever
again be the man I was before. I couldn’t go back. This was me now.
Gone was the workaholic, the family man. Gone were the days of
caring about the nice house, the newest car, and the best clothes.
Now that I thought about, I couldn’t even remember that Bernie. The
man who got up at four, jogged, went to work, skipped lunch, came
home sometimes sixteen hours later, and went to bed only to do it
all again the next day. That man seemed to be just someone I had
once known, but never me. I would never again be that man.

And who cared?

No one.

I went downstairs, still naked. I grabbed a
beer from the fridge and stood by the table drinking it. I didn’t
guzzle it as I usually did. I drank it slowly, thinking about how
to get rid of this boner.

I finally decided that instead of rushing
into something crazy like screwing guys or dead people, I’d try one
more time with a broad. If it didn’t work this time, it never
would. Then, I’d have to move on to one of the other choices. I
wasn’t looking forward to doing that, but I couldn’t go on like
this.

I finished the beer and looked down at my
dick, which was now fully hard. I couldn’t imagine sticking it in a
man. The thought had never appealed to me in my life. I didn’t find
that men turned me on. And dead people, well, that was just gross.
I liked the way Carla had been afraid. I liked the fear in her
eyes. I liked the way she acted like she hated it. I liked the way
her muscles tensed under me. And I loved the warmth of her. Dead
people couldn’t offer any of these things.

I shook it off. I wouldn’t think of the
alternatives until I knew whether or not I had to. I had to think
about now, and that meant doing a broad one more time. Just to see
if it would rid me of this pesky hard-on. It was driving me insane.
I wouldn’t be able to take it much longer. I had to get rid of it.
I had to do a bitch and quick.

When a crew of men showed up, I was curious.
When they began unloading tools and lumber, I was a little
worried.

I went outside to ask them what they were
doing, but before I could ask, someone told me. He was a large,
deeply tanned man with hair as black as coal. His dark tan made his
teeth seem whiter than they were.

He informed me that they worked for Owen’s
company. At Owen’s request, they were here to build a fence to
separate my yard from Bernie’s. I knew he was doing it to protect
me, but it was still a little frustrating. He hadn’t asked me. I
reminded myself that he was doing it because he cared. He wanted me
safe. Not because he was controlling. He wasn’t my ex-husband.

I decided to take the kids down to Owen’s
house since I hadn’t heard from him yet today and things were
pretty loud at my house. Erecting an eight-foot fence wasn’t as
quiet a job as one would think.

We crossed the street in front of our house
so we wouldn’t have to walk in front of Bernie’s. As we stepped up
on the sidewalk, I heard someone speak.

I looked up and saw a small woman waving to
me. This must be Hazel. Owen had told me about her, but I hadn’t
had a chance to meet her yet. She was sitting on the porch, sewing.
I couldn’t hear everything she was saying, so I walked closer,
taking the kids with me.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said you must be Carla.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s me. And this is Ethan and
Shelby. Are you Hazel?”

“That’s me. Come up here and have a seat.” As
we walked up the steps, she asked, “Are you hungry? I’ve got plenty
of food in there.”

“No, no. Thanks, but we’re fine. What are you
making?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m knitting a baby blanket today.”

“For who?”

“Well, for whoever needs it,” she said.
“There’s always someone somewhere having a baby. Do you do any
sewing?”

“No. I never knew anyone who could teach me.
It looks fun.”

“Oh, it is. Keeps you busy. If you want, I’ll
be more than happy to teach you.”

We talked a while longer, and I agreed to
learn to sew. It would be nice to have a hobby. Maybe then, I
wouldn’t think so much about things that had happened lately.

Hazel really was the sweetest woman I’d ever
met. Owen had been right about that. She kept offering us food. She
invited us into the house, where she brought out some toys for the
kids to play with while we talked.

Her house was exactly what a grandmother’s
house should be. It was cozy and felt very comfortable. Things
she’d made were everywhere in the room. There was no loud TV noise,
only the sound of a ticking clock and the clinking of her knitting
needles. I could hear the sound of crayons scraping against paper.
At my house, so much quiet might’ve been unnerving, but here, it
was welcoming.

I watched in awe as the blanket quickly grew
longer and longer. I couldn’t wait to learn.

“Could you teach me now?” I asked, hoping I
wasn’t too eager or rude.

“Well, sure.” She grabbed a set of needles
and a ball of yarn and sat beside me on the couch. She began
teaching me right then. She was amazed at how quickly I was
learning.

I sat there for hours with Hazel, talking and
knitting without a care in the world.

I looked out the window for a little while,
watching the fence go up at Carla’s. I’d been on my way over to her
place when I saw her and the kids cross the street and go to
Hazel’s. I didn’t want to disturb her visit, so I waited.

While I waited, I thought about my poor Andy.
He’d called and told me that his mother had passed away. I wanted
to be with him. He needed me. But I was here, without him.

I stretched out on the couch and closed my
eyes. I imagined him crying, and it made my heart ache.

I knew what I was going to do. I was so
aggravated and upset that I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him yet,
but now it seemed as though it was meant to be.

The moment he came home, no matter what
happened, I was going to tell Andy my news. No more obstacles.
Nothing was going to stop me from telling him. Nothing or no
one.

I lay there, wondering if Owen would mind
that instead of me sitting with Carla, she was sitting with
Hazel.

I fell asleep on the couch thinking of how
Andy would react to what I had to tell him.

Of course, instead of having pleasant dreams
of Andy while I napped, I had nightmares about Bernie.

“I think it looks good,” I said looking at
the fence.

“It’s a behemoth!” Carla exclaimed. “You
don’t think it’s too big?”

I laughed and wrapped my arms around her.
“No. If it means that I feel better and that you’re safer, then
it’s perfect. Besides, a lot of people have fences this tall.” I
didn’t tell her that the main reason for the fence was so that I
could know that while I watched her house from mine, Bernie
couldn’t get to her without me seeing him. In fact, I hadn’t even
told her about staking out her house. I didn’t want her worried or
upset.

I ate dinner with Carla and the kids that
evening. I’d slept through most of the day, which both bothered me
and assured me. It bothered me because it cut into my time with
Carla. But it assured me because now I was free to spend the night
watching Bernie.

I helped Carla put the kids to bed. I watched
from the doorway as she read to them. For the first time, I had
thoughts about having a baby with her. And not just a baby, but a
future.

I watched her kiss them each on the forehead
and wondered if she would be with me forever.

When the kids were kissed and tucked, we went
to Carla’s room. I didn’t expect anything to happen. I wasn’t going
to push her in any way. I just wanted to hold her as much as she
wanted me to hold her.