The Good Neighbor (7 page)

“We?” he asked. “Don’t you have somewhere to
be?”

“Nah, I’m skipping.”

“Does Jill know that you’re so financially
irresponsible? I knew she could do better.”

“Yeah, she knows it too.”

The creepy Owen that stood staring at
Bernie’s house minutes earlier was gone now, replaced entirely by
my best friend in the world.

“What time is it now?” I asked, tapping my
hands on my knees.

Owen, barely glancing at his watch, said,
“Two minutes later than the last time you asked. “You know, if you
went to work more often, you could afford your very own watch.
Then, you could function in the world like the rest of us
grown-ups.”

It was just like Owen to bust my chops. I
counted on it. It’s part of what I loved about our
relationship.

“Yeah, and while I’m buying a watch, maybe
I’ll pick you up some tampons.”

He laughed. “You saying I’m bitchy?”

“Well, I’m not saying you’re not.” I
playfully – though there was some truth to it – added, “You’re
hurting my feelings, you know. We haven’t spent much time together
lately and now that we are...well, I kind of feel like you don’t
want to.” It was true. Owen hadn’t said much in the two hours we’d
been sitting on his porch. I wasn’t sure if he was quiet because he
was thinking about Carla, or maybe he didn’t have anything to say
that didn’t involve Carla and he didn’t want to talk about her. Or
maybe he was thinking about whatever had caused him to stare at
Bernie’s house. I wasn’t sure.

“And let me guess; I don’t take you anywhere
anymore.” Owen looked at me with a slight smile and said, “Alright.
Let’s do this.” He stood. “I’m afraid if I sit here with you any
longer, we’ll start holding hands and knitting.”

We laughed. There was my best friend, Owen.
Humorous, the way I liked him.

As we crossed the street, we looked around,
making sure no one was out. We knew that what we were about to do
wasn’t illegal in any way. Everyone knew that once you put your
trash on the curb, it was no longer yours. Anyone could go through
it, even taking it, and there was nothing that could be done. But
it still felt like we had to sneak. It felt like we were committing
a crime.

It was exhilarating.

We stood at Jenson’s trash can, staring at
it. We argued a bit about who would lift the lid. We decided the
lid-lifter wouldn’t have to tear open the bag, but the job of
digging through the trash would be a joint effort.

And we began.

Owen lifted the lid with a lot of flare and a
‘tah-dah’. Wasn’t he cute? I, on the other hand, was nervous. I’d
spent a long time wondering about what this old guy was doing over
here to cause him to hide his trash. Now here I was, seconds away
from finding out. My hands trembled as I tried to undo the knot
that held the bag closed.

Owen chuckled. “Want me to get that for you,
Nancy?”

I laughed. “I got it.”

“Just rip it already. I didn’t bring my tent
because I wasn’t expecting to be over here all night.”

I ripped the bag open and gasped.

“What is it?” Owen asked quickly, looking
into the can.

“It’s trash.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Well, yeah. A little. I mean, it’s not like
I wanted to find chopped up body parts or anything, but I expected
more than trash.” I reached in and rummaged around, making sure
there was nothing I was missing.

“Yeah,” Owen retorted. “Who’d have thought
someone would have put trash in a trash can? What is the world
coming to? Next thing you know, people will be putting files in
filing cabinets and taking baths in bath tubs.” He shook his head
in feigned disbelief. “It’s a shame, really.”

“You know what I mean. How could this just be
trash?” I pointed at a bloody tissue. “Look at that, Owen. Looks
like you’re not the only one who needs tampons.”

“That’s disgusting.”

We replaced the lid and walked back to Owen’s
porch, where we sat contemplating what we’d seen – or more
accurately, what we hadn’t seen.

We talked about how we’d expected to find
something – anything – to explain Jenson’s actions, but instead had
walked away more confused than ever. If he had regular trash, and
he disposed of it in a regular manner, what was in the black bags?
And why did he dispose of them in such an odd manner? Where did he
take them? It was killing me to know what was in them.

We figured the best way to figure out Jenson
was to piece together what we knew of him, which was next to
nothing. But we pooled our information anyway. It was pretty much a
waste of time, though. We figured out nothing we didn’t already
know.

“Carla pointed out something to me that I’d
missed,” Owen said.

He told me about the two-year theory. All the
deaths – which hadn’t seemed odd as they happened, but looking back
now seemed very peculiar – had taken place since Jenson’s arrival
to Hewitt Street, just over two years ago.

I thought about what he said. It was true. I
don’t know how we’d missed it, but we had. We’d never realized how
many odd things had happened on this street because as they
happened, they just appeared to be horrible twists of fate.
Terrible things happen all the time, everywhere. To think our
little street was an exception was crazy thinking. But it also
seemed crazy to think that so many terrible things could happen to
a small group of people and still be considered happenstance.

Three deaths, two years, one street.

That was one hell of a coincidence.

I looked at Owen. It was difficult to read
his face with so little light, but he appeared to be worried,
probably concerned more about Carla and her kids than himself.
Typical Owen. Out of morbid curiosity, as well as concern for my
friend and his girlfriend, I smiled mischievously and asked, “You
still against stalking?”

Andy seemed shocked and surprised about the
two-year theory. He couldn’t believe we hadn’t noticed the
relationship between Jenson’s arrival and the three deaths that had
occurred on our street. He felt bad that we’d been so consumed with
our own lives, but I assured him that that’s just the way things
were. There was no reason to feel guilty about anything. It was
human nature, a type of self-preservation, to be more focused on us
and things that affect us than on anyone else.

We talked into the morning light about the
things in each of our lives’ that had held our attention in the
last two years. A recap while we waited for daylight.

For Andy and Jill, the past two years had
been full of ups and downs. They’d been trying to have a baby. It
seemed once that it was going to happen for them. Jill had gotten
pregnant, only to miscarry two months later. They’d been devastated
for a while, but figured it was meant to be. They’d been trying
since.

Andy’s father had suffered a stroke. There
was a while when it didn’t appear he was going to make it, but he
did. After months of therapy, he pulled through virtually
unchanged. He’d gone from being unable to speak or use his right
side to doing everything he was before, with only a hint of a
speech impediment. He was so proud of himself, as he should’ve
been. He worked so hard to get better. Six weeks after leaving the
hospital, he had a heart attack in his sleep and died. After his
father’s death, Andy and his brother took turns staying with their
mother. In the end, she’d gone to live with Andy’s brother.

And me, well, I’d spent the first of the
previous two years working myself to death, and the last year
depressed. Most of that time was spent on the front porch, trying
to forget everything that had ever happened within the walls of my
house. I’d considered moving, but wasn’t prepared to let go. I
didn’t want to face the memories, but I didn’t want to erase them
either. Selling the house had never been an option for me. So I’d
taken to the front porch.

Holly had been my only family, and when she
left, in her place remained a huge hole. That hole seemed permanent
until Carla moved in. The time spent with Carla was time well
spent. The ache that I’d suffered through every day had finally
eased. The knot in my stomach had relaxed. The weight that had felt
so heavy on my shoulders had finally been lifted. I was starting to
see things in a new and different light now. My world wasn’t made
up of only shades of grey.

So looking back, it was easy to see how we’d
missed the correlation between the many events that had taken place
on Hewitt Street. We’d all been caught up in our own versions of
hell, too far down to see much else.

We decided then, at about five in the
morning, that we were going to pay closer attention. Our eyes were
open now, and it was very unlikely that anything else was going to
be escaping us. We agreed that in addition to keeping watch, we
would do a little digging, see what we could come up with as far as
what lay beneath the horrible events that had occurred on our
sleepy little street.

Maybe it was all a big coincidence. Maybe
there would be nothing to find. Maybe sometimes these things just
happened. The principle of three. You know, people always die in
threes. Well, with the old couple and Elaine, that made three.
Maybe the stress we’d been under lately had finally caused us to
crack.

We were about to find out.

Andy and I sat on the porch, still
contemplating our sanity when Jenson came out, dragging a large
black trash bag as usual, down the steps, across his lawn, and to
his car where he loaded it into the trunk. He rested, like always,
before getting in the driver’s seat.

While he performed these tasks, Andy pestered
me about following him.

“Come on,” Andy said urgently. “What are the
chances that he’s doing this today? It’s like we were meant to
follow him. We’ve sat here all night, even dug through his trash,
and now he’s doing it.” Though he was speaking in a whisper, I
heard the excitement in his voice.

Feeling Andy’s eyes fly back and forth from
me to Jenson, I said, “We’re going to have to hurry.”

We went as quickly as we could to Andy’s car
without seeming obvious or suspicious in any way. We were backing
out of Andy’s driveway as Jenson made a left at the end of the
street.

The sound of a racing engine startled me
awake. I figured it was some damn punk teenagers, but when I ran to
the door and threw it open, all I saw was that red-haired guy’s car
turning the corner at the end of the street.

I looked across the street at his house, and
then the house beside his. Owen’s house. I saw no signs of life
over there, but that wasn’t saying anything. Unless Owen was on the
porch, which he usually was, I never saw signs of life there.

I closed the door and stretched. I’d been
waiting for those two morons to go inside so I could go next door
and see the brown haired broad who wanted me. But those sons of
bitches had sat out there all night long. I’d been sitting on the
couch, peeking through the curtains, waiting. I thought the
red-haired guy would be going to work, but he never did. The two of
them sat on Owen’s porch all night, no doubt talking about me. Or
the broad next door to me.

I walked into the kitchen, kicking cans and
bottles out of my way as I went. It was getting harder and harder
to remember a time when I didn’t have to kick trash out of my way
as I walked through my house. It was starting to seem like a whole
lifetime ago. The roaches didn’t even scatter the way they used to.
Hell, I used to not even have roaches. The house was clean. It
smelled good, I smelled good, and everything was neat. Looking
around now, there were no traces of any of that. It really was no
more than memories from another lifetime. A lifetime I would never
again know or be a part of.

Before I fell into the well of pity that was
headed my way, I leaned over the sink and looked out the window,
searching the broad’s yard. I didn’t figure she’d be out yet. It
was still pretty early, which made me wonder where the red-haired
guy was going at such a time.

I imagined her in bed, sleeping soundly.
Probably naked. Naked and waiting for me. Waiting for me to come
into the house quietly, sneak up the stairs, slowly pull back the
covers, and slide into bed beside her without waking her up. Then,
she’d want me to pull her tight against me. I could almost feel her
breasts in my hands as I thought about it. I imagined her to smell
of flowers of some sort. It wasn’t something I liked, but I could
overlook it. I smiled as I imagined the things I would do to her.
Some of them, rough. Others, even rougher.

I felt the bulge in my underwear. I had to
stop thinking of her now. I wanted to save everything so I could
give it all to her.

I grunted as I realized it would have to
wait. I had no idea if Owen was home or not. I wanted no
interruptions when I was with the broad, so it would have to wait
until I knew where those two idiots were.

I was tired from keeping watch and waiting
all night. I’d sleep today, and then tonight, I’d wait for everyone
to go to bed. Then, I’d go next door, where she’d be naked, waiting
for ol’ Bernie Bear.

I heard Andy speed away. I had no doubts that
Owen was with him. I wasn’t sure what they were trying to prove,
but I didn’t really care.

I held my hair back with one hand and
steadied myself with the other. When the heaving finally stopped, I
pushed myself away from the porcelain bowl and fell against the
wall. My forehead and the back of my neck were damp with sweat. My
hands trembled. My stomach gurgled.

I waited a few minutes to be sure I wasn’t
going to be sick any more. When I was fairly certain I would be
okay, I got up and took a careful, slow, cold shower. It made me
feel better immediately, but I still wasn’t myself. I was positive
I’d be able to get through the day once I ate breakfast. Just in
case, I had dry toast and water. I didn’t want to push my luck.