The Good Neighbor (4 page)

“We have to eat whether or not you’re here,
so you might as well stay and eat with us.”

I got the impression she didn’t want me to
leave. Unable to think of a reason to go, and not really wanting
one, I agreed to stay.

She introduced me to the kids as they came
inside to clean up for dinner. The boy, Ethan, was handsome and
very well-mannered for only five years old. His sister, Shelby, was
every bit as beautiful as her mother. Two years older than Ethan,
Shelby watched after her brother and mothered him as if he were her
own child.

It was nice to be with them, sitting at the
table, eating dinner as if we were a family. I realized suddenly
how crazy it was for me to think such things. I didn’t know them
well enough to think like that. I didn’t know if Carla wanted me to
have such thoughts. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to have such
thoughts. Yes, I’d decided that enough was enough already with the
moping, but had I decided that I was ready for such radical notions
as a family?

My thoughts must’ve shown on my face because
Carla was looking at me, worried. She didn’t question me until
later, after we had loaded the dishwasher.

She spun to face me. “Alright, Owen, spill
it.”

I opened my mouth to deny that there was
anything to spill, but she didn’t let me speak. Instead, she took
my arm in her hand and led me to the living room where we sat on
the couch.

“I know something’s bothering you. I can see
it on your face. I told you I’m a good listener. And I’m all ears.”
She was facing me, legs folded beneath her. She put her elbow on
the back of the couch and propped her head up with it.

I told her everything from coming home after
work one day to find my wife leaving me, to Jill telling me to plug
the hole. My falling apart, my depression, the way I couldn’t stand
to be in my house. I told her all of it. Well, I told her most of
it. Some things were meant to remain unsaid.

“And you still wear the ring.” She reached
over and picked up my left hand, holding it gently in hers. As she
twisted my ring around my finger, it was hard to remember why I’d
kept it on so long. “That’s sweet. And sad.” She continued to stare
at the ring as she spun it around my finger, lost in thought.

I had a few thoughts of my own. I’d never
been this close to her. I’d never been this close to anyone other
than Holly, as a matter of fact. Holly and I had begun dating in
high school, and I’d never been with anyone else. I don’t mean
emotionally close, but physically close.

My heart was pounding. The scent of her
perfume was delicate and intoxicating. I breathed through my nose,
trying to memorize the smell. Her skin was soft and every bit as
delicate as her scent. As I watched her slender fingers spin the
ring that was placed on my hand by a woman who obviously never
loved me, I was overcome by the urge to rip the ring off and flush
it down the toilet with all the dreams I’d had of growing old with
Holly. Of course, if I wasn’t wearing it, she wouldn’t be holding
my hand and her knee wouldn’t be resting against mine.

“Think you’ll ever take it off?” she asked,
resting her head against the back of the couch.

“I’m sure I will. I think it’s time.” She
stopped spinning my ring, but didn’t let go of my hand. She
absentmindedly caressed my fingers lightly. “So what about you?
How’d you become a single mom?”

“I loved a man who loved himself.” I heard
the pain in her voice as she spoke. “We were married for nine
years. I gave him everything I had, only to find out he was giving
all he had to someone else. Then, I found out it wasn’t the first
time he’d cheated on me. It crushed me. But I have kids to think
about, so I divorced him and went on with my life as if he’d never
been a part of it.” She looked at me, still holding my hand.
“There’ll come a point when you do the same.”

I squeezed her hand slightly. I knew she was
right. I could feel that point rapidly approaching.

“I better go,” I said, standing. “It’s
getting late.”

Carla stood with me. “Do you have to go so
soon?”

“Yeah, Andy will be leaving for work soon.
He’ll want to give me some crap, I’m sure.”

“About being here?” I could see by the smile
she wore that she knew it would be about her.

I nodded and we laughed. She walked me to the
door. I turned to her and thanked her for feeding and listening to
me. She assured me it was a pleasure to do both, and begged me to
come back soon. I told her I would, and after a quick thought about
kissing her, I left with the kiss as no more than a thought.

As I neared my house, I heard someone
whistle. It was dark even with the streetlights on, and I couldn’t
see the whistler, but I had no doubt who it was.

“Boy, I do believe you got a little spring in
your step.”

I stopped in Andy’s driveway where he was
leaned against his car. “You’re out early,” I said casually,
folding my arms across my chest.

“Came to keep you company, but I didn’t know
you were keeping company at Carla’s.” He chuckled. “How’d it
go?”

“You make it sound like I was running some
sort of secret operation. We had a nice visit. I met her kids. We
had dinner. We talked a little. That was it.” I walked over and
leaned against his car beside him.

“Well, you better get in there before Bernie
does.”

“Bernie won’t get in there, whatever that
means.”

“As soon as he lays eyes on her, he’ll quit
barhopping. Why go fishing when there’s fish in the freezer?”

I laughed. “What the hell does that
mean?”

“It means why would he want to go to the bar
when he can hit on the pretty, young, single mother next door?
She’s easy prey. You watch. You’ll see. Hey,” Andy said, changing
the subject. “Speaking of you seeing, you see Jenson today?”

I thought for a second. I shook my head.
“Haven’t seen him all day. You worried?”

“Nope. Just wondering.” Neither of us spoke
for a while. Finally, Andy asked, “You think you two are going to
hook up?”

“Have you been reading love poems? You sure
know the language,” I said sarcastically.

“Fine,” he laughed. “Do you fancy courting
her? Is that romantic enough for you?”

“It’s better,” I said, laughing. Then I
shrugged. “I don’t know. I like her. I guess she likes me. But she
just moved in, Andy. Good grief. The girl’s not even unpacked yet.
Geez, give her time to get settled before you start trying to marry
her off.”

“Hey, I just don’t want you two to be a
younger version of Hazel and Jenson. Single people living across
the street, but nothing ever happening. I’d have to move. I can’t
live in the midst of so much sexual tension.”

“Sexual tension? Hazel and Jenson? Are you
serious?”

“Well, they’re both older, single people. No
reason they can’t hook up.”

“No reason, huh? Jenson’s weird. Hazel’s so
sweet. I don’t see it.”

“They both keep to themselves. Shouldn’t they
keep to themselves together?” he asked.

“Is it really keeping to yourself if you’re
doing it with someone else?”

He laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. I was just
saying you should go out with Carla. It’d do you some good. I know
Jill kind of already told you that.”

“Yeah, thanks for telling your wife
everything. If I ever kill somebody, you’ll be the last person I
tell.”

We laughed.

With Andy gone to work, I sat on the porch
alone for a while thinking, mostly about Carla. I kept finding
myself looking at her house. I imagined her in there, reading to
the kids before they fell asleep. Then, I imagined her getting
ready for bed.

I stopped myself before that line of thought
went too far.

I decided to turn in for the night. I didn’t
figure sleep would come easily, but I was prepared to try. I made
my way upstairs slowly, preoccupied with thoughts of the single
mother. I brushed my teeth, wondering if she was doing the same. I
used the restroom and washed my hands. I stripped down to my
underwear, wondering what she wore to bed. Then, I slid under the
covers, trying to guess what side of the bed she slept on.

I lay awake, thinking. Carla and Jill were
both right. I had to move on. It was time. I took my wedding ring
off and laid it on my nightstand. I knew it was only a figment of
my imagination, but my hand felt lighter. I flexed the fingers of
my left hand to determine if taking off the ring really had made
such a difference. I couldn’t be sure.

I touched the groove the ring left behind
with the fingers of my right hand and wondered if there would ever
again be a ring there. It was hard to imagine anyone else ever
placing a ring on my finger while the memory of Holly doing so was
deeply engraved on my mind.

I pushed thoughts of Holly from my head. The
time for thinking of her was over. She’d had her time in my life.
She’d thrown it away. It was time to think of someone else, someone
with whom I could have a future, not a past.

I fell asleep thinking of Carla.

The next morning, I awoke with more energy
than I had in a while. I felt younger, more alive. I knew there
were only two reasons for this change. The first reason was my
decision to push forward with my life. I had turned the last page
on the final chapter in the book that was my life with Holly. That
story had ended. Now I was turning the first page of the first
chapter in a story that would hopefully have a happy ending. It was
the story of my life with Carla, the reason for my newfound energy
and youthful feeling. It truly did feel like a huge weight had been
lifted from my shoulders. I didn’t feel as though I were walking
down the stairs, but floating down them.

I whistled while I made toast. After
breakfast, I headed to the porch. It was no longer because I hated
being inside my house, trapped with the memories of Holly. It was
out of habit more than anything. Also, from my porch, I could see
Carla’s house.

I sat in my chair just as Andy was pulling in
his driveway. I knew there would be no escaping a visit from him
this morning. He’d had all night to come up more questions.

As I’d predicted, he came over and plopped in
the chair beside me.

“Clouds are bright this morning, huh?” I
asked, indicating the dark shades he wore in spite of the heavy
clouds that hung low in the sky.

He took them off, folded them, and hooked
them in the neck of his t-shirt where they hung down his chest. He
laughed. “I forgot I had those on.”

I looked at him, clearly puzzled. “But why
did you put them on at all? It’s been cloudy all morning.”

Without looking at me, he said, “I had a
headache. The light made it worse. Has Jenson been out this
morning?”

“I haven’t seen him.”

We both sat staring at Jenson’s house without
speaking. I didn’t know what was going on in his head, but in mine,
I kept thinking of how weird it was to see someone wearing
sunglasses on a cloudy day. It was as weird as wearing them at
night.

The sound of children playing caused me to
turn my attention to Carla’s house, which Andy didn’t fail to
notice.

“You going to her place later?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. If she wants me
to.”

He laughed. “Of course she wants you to,
man.”

“You don’t know that. Besides, I don’t want
to wear out my welcome.”

“Well, if you don’t get in there, Bernie
will. And he’ll wear out more than just his welcome, if you know
what I mean.”

“God, Andy. You kiss your wife with that
mouth?” I teased.

“Yeah, and she begs me for more.” He laughed,
heartily. I shook my head, embarrassed.

It was then that Jenson came outside, again
dragging an apparently heavy large, black trash bag. We watched him
in silence for a while. He seemed to not notice he was being
watched. Or he simply didn’t care that he had an audience.

He wore a dark brown cardigan and tan slacks,
cuffed above a pair of worn brown loafers. His wispy white hair
blew in the breeze as he slowly made his way down the steps and
across the lawn to his car. One hand still holding onto the bag, he
fished a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the trunk. It
was all he could do to hoist the bag off the ground and wrestle it
into the trunk. Once the bag was safely inside and the lid closed,
he rested his hands on the back of the car, clearly taking a moment
to catch his breath. He then shuffled his way to the front of the
car. He got in the driver’s seat and moments later, he slowly
backed out of the driveway and drove away.

Andy and I looked at each other.

“What the hell is in those bags?” Andy asked.
I could only shake my head. “They’re always heavy. How can one old
man have such heavy trash?”

“Maybe it’s not that the trash is heavy,” I
suggested.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s old. Maybe he’s just weak.”

Andy thought about that for a moment. “Why
doesn’t he use smaller bags so he won’t have to struggle so much?
He doesn’t struggle with his white bags.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe his trash
won’t fit in a smaller bag.”

“He’s a little old man who lives alone. How
much trash could he possibly accumulate in one week? What could he
have over there – some soup cans, maybe some bread wrappers or
something? Light stuff. But he’s always carrying out these enormous
bags, filled with something so heavy, it’s a struggle for him. I
don’t get it.”

We paused to ponder the mystery.

“How often does he take out a bag?” I asked,
trying to solve the puzzle.

Andy snorted, “You know more than I do.
You’re out here all the time.”

That was true. I tried to remember if I’d
noticed a pattern in the days Jenson took the bags to wherever he
took them. I was coming up empty. After a year of sitting on a
porch directly across the street, a year of watching him, I hadn’t
really paid any attention to him. Sure, I’d seen him. I’d noticed
him enough at the time to talk to Andy about it. But I hadn’t
noticed enough to recollect anything. No patterns were clear in my
mind. I only knew a lot of heavy black bags had came out of his
house, been put in his trunk, and been driven away.