“I think that’s harder on a kid than the death of a parent,” he said and his look was so piercing it made Allison uncomfortable. It was too soon for this soul bearing.
“So is your dad still living?” Allison asked.
“Yeah, he lives out east.”
“Is he Italian too?”
“Nah. One hundred percent WASP. That side of the family came over on the Mayflower…the Hamiltons, old Philadelphia family.” Allison was intrigued by this strange combination of Italian heritage and old money from Philadelphia. There was something magical about this DNA mix. He was compellingly enchanting.
“My dad saw Mom sing at the Met one night, just a minor part but nevertheless, he saw her and instantly fell in love. Needless to say, his family did not approve. So he left Philadelphia, eloped with mother and together they moved to New York and had me and my brother.”
“How romantic! I mean he must’ve really loved her to defy his family and all.”
“Yeah,” Frank said a little sadly as he reached back into the bucket of soapy water, pulling out a large sponge with one hand and retrieving the water hose with the other. She stood for a while and watched him. He went back to washing his car, all the while humming. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. Allison watched the movement of his shoulders and forearms as he moved the sponge in circular motions across the car. Sweat poured off his forehead. He lifted his shirttail and wiped his face, revealing his stomach and a good portion of his upper torso. He was well-toned and had the right amount of body hair, not too much, not too little. She stood close enough to notice his scent. She detected the fragrance of cologne, mixed with the odor of sweat. She was surprised that she found it enticing, and not at all offensive. She imagined what it would be like to kiss him. Suddenly Allison realized she was just standing there wordlessly watching him, fantasizing about him as if in a trance and that this might just seem a little creepy to the casual observer.
“I better let you get back to your car. It’s been nice talking to you.”
“I can wash my car and talk too. Stick around and keep me company; that is unless you’ve got something else to do. I’m not holding you up, am I?”
“No, you’re not holding me up.” There was nowhere else she wanted to be, nothing else she wanted to be doing. She hoped he felt the same way. Excitement welled up within her, and she wanted to start running again, but instead she stood there smiling like how she imagined the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland might do.
“Can I help?”
“You can be my bucket carrier.”
“Pardon?”
“Just follow me around with the bucket and keep me company,” he said with that piercing gaze and that boyish smile. Her stomach flip-flopped at the sight of that smile.
All right, that’s it. I’m lusting after a man I just met, Allison thought. I need to get out of here before I’m in big trouble. She was all set to bid him a hasty farewell and jog off before he continued the conversation.
“So you lived in Paris, huh?”
“Oui, for a year. I minored in French. Parlez vous Francais?”
“Oui ui. Je ne suis pas sure que je me rappelle beaucoup. Je n’ai pas beaucoup d’occasion de le parler.” (Yes. I’m not sure I remember much. I don’t have much opportunity to speak it).
“Je pense que vous faites tres bien. Je suis bien impressionne. Peut-etre nous pouvons le pratiquer parler ensemble. Je n’ai pas beaucoup d’occasion de le parler non plus.” (I think you do quite well. I’m very impressed. Maybe we can practice speaking it together. I don’t have much opportunity to speak it either.)
“I’d like that.” He looked at her again with those blue eyes and Allison thought she would come completely undone.
Allison looked down before her attraction to him became too apparent and she said something stupid.
“So I never asked what you do,” he said.
“Well, interestingly enough, my background is also in marketing, but I’m kind of in transition right now. Tomorrow I start work at an outdoor advertising agency. It’s a step down for me. Actually I’m a little apprehensive about the whole thing. It’s going to be so different from the firm in Chicago where I came from.”
“Don’t let ‘em walk all over you. All right,” he said in a forthright manner. This statement meant more to Allison than, perhaps any of the other sweet things he had said thus far. She could tell he meant it. He had sensed somehow her fear of facing the ol’ boys’ network and all the chauvinism that accompanied it in the work place.
“Don’t worry. I won’t. And thank you for being concerned.”
“You’ll be all right. Someone like you doesn’t stay down for long. I can tell.”
“Oh, yeah, how can you tell?”
“You forget I’m in marketing too. I’ve observed your determination already.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“So I take it you moved back to Lamasco because of your fiancé?” He said stating it like a question.
“You guessed it,” she said looking away then glancing briefly back at Frank’s face to see if there was any disappointment there. She remembered she had introduced Kent to him last night as her fiancé and she was now wishing she hadn’t. That’s a terrible thought! You love Kent. You’ve just been away from him too long, she told herself.
“So when are you getting married?”
“Well, we haven’t exactly set a date yet. We’re kind of waiting until I get settled in before we take on wedding plans.”
“I see.”
“It’s a lot you know, moving back here. So do you have anyone special in your life?”
“No,” he said working particularly hard to wipe clean the streaked glass of the windshield.
“Why is that?”
“I haven’t met the right woman yet. Seems like all the good ones are taken.”
“Hmmm. So how did you get interested in research?” Allison abruptly changed the subject.
“I’ve always been interested in statistics, how you can gather information and predict outcomes. Numbers are very meaningful. They bring order to chaos.”
“Ech! I hated statistics. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“You were a math nerd in school, weren’t you?”
“Tell me it doesn’t still show. I’ve tried all my life to overcome it. I even got athletic in high school so I wouldn’t be bullied by the jocks anymore.”
“Well, I’ll tell you a little secret. I was a nerd too. It takes one to know one.”
“No way!”
“No, it’s true. I was a little fat girl in grade school. I always got picked last for the kickball team.”
“Ah yes, the kickball team. Responsible for countless hours of therapy to maladjusted nerds everywhere,”
He finished up his work with the car and Allison helped him gather his bucket and rags.
“Thanks for keeping me company,” he said. Their eyes met again and Allison quickly looked down. She realized she was always the first to break the gaze.
“My pleasure. Nothing like commiserating with a fellow former nerd.”
Suddenly there were no more words to be said. The two stood there in silence.
“So...”
“So...”
“Which apartment do you live in, Frank?”
“The one right across the hall from you.”
“Oh.”
“That’s where I’m headed now.”
“Me too. I mean, to my apartment.”
“Shall we?”
Together they walked to the building, and though no words were spoken, Allison thought it seemed comfortable, almost familiar, walking alongside him. Frank held the door open for her. They walked up the stairs, Frank following close behind Allison. They lingered at their respective doors for a moment.
“Au revoir Allison. I enjoyed talking to you.”
“Moi aussi, Frank. Au revoir.”
The sound of keys jingled in u
nison as they turned their doorknobs and opened their doors. Allison was back within the confines of her apartment, back with the unpacked boxes, the half a box of donuts, and the half-read paper. Everything was the same as when she left it, yet nothing was the same. She ran to the bathroom, flipped on the light, and looked at herself in the mirror.
“My God, I look horrible,” she said out loud. Her dirty hair was pulled tightly back in a pony tail, and Allison thought it made her look like a skinned rabbit. Her makeup-free face looked red and blotchy, and staring back at her was a pimple just below the right corner of her mouth. She examined it more closely, a miniature volcano ready to erupt. Last night’s sleeplessness showed in and around her eyes, which seemed colorless compared to his. No wonder the female of the species is always plain beige or grey. Her t-shirt was wet around the chest and under the arms. She lifted her arm and sniffed. “And I smell! Good! I hope he was really grossed out.” She covered her face with her hands and turned away from the mirror.
Chapter 5
Allison awoke Monday morning feeling tense and hurried. About the most constructive thing she did was finding the band-aids for her blistered heels. It was her own fault for jogging without socks. They were in a box marked “bathroom”. It was the only box she dug through and it was out of necessity. She didn’t care about anything yesterday, not even the fact that Kent didn’t call until nine o’clock at night.
Her navy pumps were in the bottom of the box and when she pulled them out they looked like they’d been run over by a truck. It’s too bad you can’t iron leather, she thought as she stuck them on her feet. I would kill for a cup of coffee, she thought looking at her boxes wondering which box her coffee maker was in. Her breakfast consisted of a stale donut and a swallow of juice from the bottle she purchased at Gasmart on the trip back to Lamasco. I’ve got to get my life back in order. Allison stood at the door, purse on shoulder, keys in hand, looking around her new apartment. You’re a professional, Allison. A professional. She cleared her throat, straightened her shoulders, and headed out the door.
There was the door to Frank’s apartment right across the hall from her. It was a strange feeling knowing this was the first thing she’d see every time she left her apartment. She wondered what time he left for work. It’s your first day on the job, Al. You have more important things to think about, she told herself as she headed down the stairs. She opened the door into the bright sunlight. The humidity had dropped, leaving in its wake a clear blue sky and refreshingly cool air. Allison was glad. She’d been off work just long enough to forget how uncomfortable panty hose and suit jackets were in the stifling heat. She looked at the sky and thought it was lovely. Then she heard the music. It took a few moments for the melody to register.
It was Gershwin. “An American in Paris”. The busy Parisian street sounds ringing through the early summer air of southern Indiana. She looked up and there stood Frank on his porch, smiling and watching her with his sliding glass door open and the music cascading out of his apartment. She was thrilled and moved all at the same time. This was better than coffee. He’d selected this piece of music just for her and waited to play it as soon as she stepped outside.
“e HHhhhThank you,” Allison called up to him.
“You’re welcome. Knock ‘em dead! And remember, hold your head up and don’t take any flack,” Frank called down to her, his eastern accent particularly thick but strangely endearing.
Allison smiled and waved.
Allison’s first morning at work was spent meeting her fellow employees, discussing how she wanted her new office set up with the office manager, who was clearly the Jewish mother of the firm, and getting a key for the women’s restroom; which proved to be the lengthiest portion of the morning, leaving the office manager in an irritable and frustrated state because there should have been an extra key but wasn’t. Her afternoon was spent reading the Policies and Procedures manual and, finally, going over a few of the accounts that would be turned over to her. One of them was with the Indiana State Police, who presently had a billboard up that said, “Watch your speed. We are.”
Allison met Kent for dinner downtown after work. They talked, laughed, and toasted their new life together. They discussed spending the night together but they were both tired and decided it would be better if they waited until the weekend. She drove home content.
Allison forgot about Frank until she opened the door to her building and found him standing on the other side with a big plastic trash bag slung over his shoulder.
“Frank!”
“Allison!”
“You startled me.”
“Sorry. Just taking my trash out to the dumpster.”
“Oh. Of course.”
“So how was your first day of work?”
“Fine. Fine. I think it’ll be... okay.” Allison stood face to face with Frank. She came to his collarbone. She looked up at him and he looked down at her. Her mouth went dry and she realized how close she stood to him and quickly stepped out of the way. She was angry for a moment–angry that he would show up again so suddenly in her life and create all this confusion, just when things went so well with Kent. She quickly told herself how irrational it was to feel that way and that she might as well get used to bumping into him because he was her neighbor. Smile and be neighborly, Al.
“Hey, thanks for the music this morning. That was really sweet of you.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“I needed something to get me going, considering I had to leave for my first day of work without any coffee.”
“You need coffee? I can loan you some.”
“No, I have some. I just can’t find my coffee maker. It’s still packed away.”
“It’ll turn up eventually.”
“Yeah.”
“Hey,” Frank said, his eyes lighting up, “I forgot to tell you we’re having a cookout Friday night.”
“Who is?”
“The Camelot residents. We have these little get-togethers every so often. You know, helps build community and all that good stuff. I hope you can come. Of course, your fiancé’s invited too.”
“Well, thank you. We’ll try to make it.”
“It’ll be down by the clubhouse about six.”
“Do I need to bring anything?”
“Nah.”
“I don’t mind. Really.”
“I’ll put you in touch with Barb and Sally. Have you met either one of them yet?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Barb lives down the hall from us and Sally lives downstairs.”
“Okay then.”
“Great. I’ll see you later.” With that, Frank quickly disappeared around the corner of the building as Allison watched in baffled silence.
The next morning she nearly tripped over something by her front door. She looked down and there was a box with a red bow stuck on top. She quickly opened it and inside was a coffee mug with the Cub’s logo on it. Inside the mug was a note that read, “In case you haven’t found your coffee maker yet… Stop by for a cup. Frank.”
It wasn’t so much the desire for caffeine that drove her across the hall as the desire to see her new neighbor. She told herself he was only being friendly. She wished he wouldn’t be so friendly. By Friday, stopping by Frank’s for a cup of coffee each morning had become a ritual, even though she found her coffee maker Tuesday night.
She met Barb and Sally that first week. It was a relief to meet some other women who lived in the building, though neither one was the type of person she thought she could become friends with. The two knocked on her door Wednesday evening and introduced themselves. They were a peculiar pair. They sat on her couch for nearly an hour. Sally talked incessantly and Barb dozed off from time to time. They reminded Allison of an old married couple who’d grown used to one another’s annoying little ways.
Barb never said what her last name was. She was a medical resident at Mercy Hospital. Originally from rural southern Indiana, she made it into IU me
dical school. Allison tried to strike up a conversation with her about IU, but she didn’t seem interested. She was either very aloof or very depressed. Allison couldn’t tell which.
Barb had large dark deep-set eyes which stared out of a gaunt face. She wore surgical greens and an exhausted look from having worked twenty-four straight hours. Smiling seemed unnatural for Barb, though she forced both corners of her mouth upward in something that faintly resembled a smile, the affect was odd and out of place, like a poorly fitting garment. She spoke mostly in monosyllabic words, certainly not due to a lack of intelligence, but rather from some great apathy that hung over her like a heavy drape. She didn’t have to with Sally around. Sally did the talking for both of them.
Sally Buckner, on the other hand, was more than willing to talk about her alma mater–Purdue University. All the Purdue / IU rivalry was more than just fun and games to her. She was a third generation Boilermaker and proud of it. She was one of the Buckners of Buckner’s Fine Dry Cleaning. She worked for the family business, which was fine, she said, but she found her creative outlet as a Mary Kay representative. She welcomed Allison by presenting her with lasagna (enough to feed eight people), and offering her a free facial. Sally also offered Barb’s medical services free of charge if she ever got sick. Barb didn’t reply.
Sally was short, a little overweight, and her face had all the glitz and none of the glamour of Las Vegas. Sally was battery-operated from her hot pink knit shirt, Lilly Pulitzer skirt with loud floral pattern, all the way down to her neon green espadrilles. But it wasn’t just her clothing that glowed in the dark. Her face was positively florescent with her bright blue large framed glasses and her overdone makeup in the brightest shades imagined. She spoke quickly and nervously, and Allison believed she knew her entire life story by the time they departed from their visit. She was thirty-two, divorced, and childless. She was worried about her clock running out. She wanted a husband, a house, and a baby, but not necessarily in that order. She bemoaned the fact that she was still renting at her age. Allison wondered why and decided that Sally either had a spending problem or just hated the idea of being alone.
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