Boxer Next Door

by Summer Cooper

  My phone ringing on the nightstand woke me up. I grumbled, reaching for it with one arm, the other still holding Lydia’s warm, naked body to my chest. I even had thoughts of waking her up for some nice, slow morning sex. Until I saw the name on my phone’s screen.

  It was like a bucket of cold water had just been dumped on my head.

  After so long, my friend was calling back, likely to report his findings.

  “Shit,” I muttered.

  I pulled away from Lydia, slowly. I cut the call and sent him a text, telling him to call me back in five minutes. I glanced over at Lydia, feeling a little guilty because I’d forgotten all about it. The words that strange woman had told me, how I’d called my cop friend to investigate Lydia like there was any possibility she could be a criminal.

  My face was warm with shame as I left the room, but my heart was beating faster because I was curious.

  I rushed around the house getting dressed, cursing myself for tossing my clothes all over the place. I didn’t even leave a note as I went back to my place. As soon as the door closed behind me, my phone was ringing again, and I picked up the call.

  “Hey, Ken,” he said, and the serious tone he was starting the conversation with had dread growing in my chest.

  “What is it?” I asked, anxious.

  My friend sighed. “I’m afraid I don’t have any good news for you here, Kenji.”

  I didn’t even react to his use of my full name. “You’ve got to be kidding me?”

  “No, I’m serious. I looked into it just like you asked, and I spent so long because there’s hardly anything to find. Whoever that woman was… she might have been onto something. This husband, Mike, literally disappeared. I’d think he didn’t exist if I hadn't looked up a copy of his old driver’s license. I think you need to be careful around this woman.”

  No way.

  It just wasn’t possible, but even my friend seemed to be suspicious about her now.

  If only I could bring myself to go back to her place and ask Lydia what happened.

  16

  Lydia

  Another two weeks passed, and I came to realize, that after that day he spent the night, only for me to find him gone when I woke up the next day, Ken was pulling away from me.

  I’d called that same day he’d disappeared when he didn’t contact me, feeling worried. My worries had died when he told me he’d managed to get in contact with his parents and he was going to visit them. I’d been relieved that it wasn’t something I’d done and that his relationship with his parents wasn’t as hopeless as I’d thought.

  Those worries came back, though, and then they tripled. I’d barely seen him since then, even though I knew he’d been back a little over a week. He hadn't called me, and he answered texts when I called but rarely initiated any himself. As far as I could tell, he wasn’t spending that much time at home, so he was probably working at his studio. Sometimes he’d come home late, other times I couldn’t even tell if he made it home when I went to sleep.

  Bryson even asked me about him and why he’d stayed away for so long. I hadn't known what to tell him, so I’d just given him the excuse that he was busy with adult stuff. Bryson knew all about that.

  Is this what I’d been dreading? I would have liked to have more time…

  Annara thought I was ridiculous.

  “For all you know,” she counseled, “the guy really could be busy.”

  I’d invited her over one evening, after picking Bryson up from school and dropping him off at his friend’s house for the afternoon. She could tell I’d been worried and distracted during our lunch breaks, so she’d started to come over regularly. We were sitting in my living room, drinking wine with the TV blaring some drama that made the perfect background noise.

  Well, Annara had a glass of wine, I had a cup of hot chocolate. I glanced over her trim body with only a little envy. Only a little, I thought as I sipped the hot chocolate.

  “I think he’s avoiding me,” I complained. “And Christmas is just around the corner…” I was hoping he would loosen up, or things would change as the festive season grew near, but I’d been pessimistic in this relationship since the beginning.

  “When was the last time you saw each other?” she asked, taking a sip from her glass.

  I shrugged, thinking back. “Before he went to his parents for Thanksgiving. He spent a whole day here. But since then, either he was busy, or I didn’t have time to see him. We’re neighbors, he lives right next door, but it’s like there’s no time for us to meet at all,” I said, fretting, twisting my hands together.

  Annara didn’t lose her calm. “It’s pretty normal in relationships where people don’t have time to see each other. Especially since you both work and he’s doing a startup.”

  I sighed, leaning sideways against the couch. I knew she was right. So why was my heart still beating unevenly?

  “Things should slow down soon, hopefully,” I murmured to myself. “We’re about to close this big case at work. So I’ll have time, at least. And the holidays are coming up. I can take a long break.”

  But that would only be on my side. I didn’t know if he’d be making time for me during the holidays, or if he’d have to see his parents again.

  “You seriously like thinking too much, don’t you?” Annara said, rolling her eyes at me as she read the bleak expression on my face. “If you’re both busy, then you’re both busy. Wait until you talk to him before jumping to any conclusions, okay?”

  I sighed. I’d just have to take her word for it.

  Annara couldn’t have more than the one glass of wine since she’d driven over. After it was finished, I walked her to her car and waved as she drove off. Then I got back inside, finished my cup of hot chocolate, and went to wash them in the sink. With that done, I returned to the living room and sat down. I was too restless to do anything so mundane as watch TV, so minutes later, I was picking up my phone to call Kenji.

  My first call didn’t go through. I waited, forcing myself to watch the drama that was on TV. It might be a different show from when Annara was round, but I was hardly paying attention. When it ended, I tried again, and still nothing.

  “What the fuck, Kenji?” I growled to myself. I was more worried than angry.

  The next show started, and it was a movie. I put the phone down and paid attention to it. Ten minutes in, I could guess the storyline, and it had my stomach twisting.

  “Of all the things to come on,” I grumbled, picking up the remote. “Why did it have to be some stupid holiday romance?”

  But I didn’t change the channel. Since it was Christmas soon, the movie was Christmas themed. The couple met by total accident one night, and the movie detailed how they slowly fell in love with each other over the holidays and beyond. I didn’t realize just how engrossed I’d become in the movie until it was halfway through, and I was still watching it, remote held in hand but not making any move to change the channel.

  Damn it!

  I set the remote down and hugged my knees to my chest, pulling the blanket I kept on the couch around me. When it got closer to the end, I started to cry. Not only because it was a beautiful movie, but because of the end I could see for the couple. The woman fell pregnant, and there was a time skip that led into the epilogue, where their child was born, both their families were reunited, and they had another happy Christmas with their months old baby.

  That would never happen for me, not with Ken.

  For one, I was old. I was middle-aged, and for women, the biological clock was something of an enemy. Ken and I didn’t use condoms. We’d both gone to a doctor for testing when we realized we hadn't been using any a week after our strange relationship started. But I religiously took my birth control, as I’d had the doctor refill my prescription, though I still had the old ones from when Mike was around.

  Besides, Ken hadn't said anything about starting a family, besides that one time he mentioned settling down with his ex. I wasn’t at the right time in my life for
a baby, if I could even still get pregnant.

  Suddenly feeling sentimental, I went to my room and dragged out my old scrapbooks from back when Bryson was born. I took them to the living room and sat back down on the couch.

  “I haven’t looked at these in years,” I muttered to myself, then gave a sad laugh. “Look at me, acting all sorry for myself and acting all nostalgic in middle age.”

  If the twenty-five-year-old me saw what I’d become, she’d probably feel sorry for me. That was around the time Mike and I met and fell in love, then started plans for the two of us. Bryson came a few years after that.

  I looked through the pictures, from the time he was still an infant through to his toddler years. I’d been such an excited young mother, though I wasn’t so young when I had him. I was enthusiastic about keeping track of everything, and I had two full albums for his first year and a half alone. I moved on to his toddler years, then his first years in school. The number of pictures dropped drastically then.

  Of course, I still remembered going through all that. But looking at the photos, reading the short stories detailed under each, it felt a lot like I was going through someone else’s life. Could I go through that again?

  I had my career to consider. I barely had time for the son I already had, and babies took a lot of time. I was exhausted enough with my current schedule; I didn’t think I could keep it up.

  Then there was Bryson. My little man, who’d been growing more independent since his dad left, the more days passed. We were still close, though. A baby would only get in the middle of that, right?

  Besides, my life was just getting into some normalcy. It wasn’t quite what I’d planned with Mike, but it was heading in what I believed was a good, satisfactory direction. I couldn’t just change that, could I? For the sake of a man I hadn't known all that long… a man that seemed to be withdrawing from me lately?

  “But a baby,” I whispered, running a finger down one of Bryson’s baby pictures, remembering his chubby little cheeks.

  Why did I feel a pang in my heart, one of longing? I’d always thought I’d have more than one kid. I loved Bryson, but I’d always dreamed of having a daughter. I’d been pretty close to my mom and grandmother growing up, and I’d dreamed of all the things I could do with a little girl of my own. Would it be such a bad idea?

  Ken’s eyes and my hair, I mused. My nose maybe? All blended into a tiny face, boy or girl…

  I had nothing against my gray eyes, pretty much everyone in my family had them, except for my dad and his family who had all been blue-eyed. Green eyes had always fascinated me, and paired with dark hair… I thought it would look pretty. I pictured it in the photo I was looking at. Green eyes, long hair, girl…

  Fuck. I snapped the book closed with a scowl at myself.

  “Don’t be fucking stupid, Lydia,” I chided myself. “Just how old do you think you are?”

  Even if my body could carry a baby to term, and if I did give birth to a healthy baby, what then? I had responsibilities, and I didn’t have a young enough body to shoulder them all. A baby would be too much, more work, more responsibility. Not to mention the strain it would be on my body.

  I worked out hard to keep my current shape. Ken liked the body I had, and I wondered if he knew just how much energy went into maintaining it. I was trying to keep his attention and having a baby, with no time to diet and exercise afterward, could prove disastrous.

  “No popping out any more children,” I muttered, poking at my soft stomach.

  I picked up all the books and took them back upstairs to put away. I thought about calling Annara again because now I needed to talk to someone again.

  “I’ve bothered her enough already for today,” I muttered to myself sadly, looking around. She’d even helped me put up some decorations for Christmas and helped wrap my presents for Bryson, bringing her own along.

  But… just because I couldn’t call her over, didn’t mean I couldn’t text her. I wanted to smack myself when I read the message back to myself, but I’d sent it already. I sounded like a young, whiny girl worried about keeping her shape and figure. Fuck, I’d probably sent a text not unlike it to a different number back when I was a teenager.

  Annara’s reply was expected.

  “What did I tell you about jumping to conclusions? And you don’t need to go on a diet or eat less! It’ll just burden your body more. You are beautiful at your age like you have been since I met you. If he isn’t complaining, you don’t need to change anything! Stop being so fucking silly already!”

  I laughed because I could imagine her growling the words at me. She was right. He certainly hadn't complained the last time, and we’d spent the better part of the day walking around naked. He’d taken me all over the house and wouldn’t stop looking at me or touching me. It wasn’t something to worry about.

  In the middle of my thoughts, trying to reassure myself, there was a knock on the door. My heart jumped a beat.

  Could it be him? Did he finally get time to drop by to see me?

  I was excited. I couldn’t think of anyone else it could be, and I practically flew to the door and yanked it open.

  Everything came to a halt as I did, and I saw who was waiting on the other side.

  17

  Kenji

  Another evening, another drive back home late in the evening.

  Work had been piling up. It was a bit surprising, how much I still needed to put into the business, even with someone else helping out. Most of the administrative work fell on my shoulders, and more often than not I stayed late to lock up, though the trainer I’d hired had told me he wouldn’t mind locking up since he stuck around until the last customers left anyway.

  I was too much of a coward to admit to myself I hadn't taken him up on the offer because it was convenient for me.

  I sighed to myself once home was in sight. I planned to go right to bed, maybe even catch something to eat before I went to sleep.

  That idea went down the drain immediately when I glanced at Lydia’s house on reflex and saw a man standing on her doorstep.

  Who was that…?

  My first response was to overreact. I could have hit myself in the next second for even considering Lydia could have anything in common with my ex. I probably had the wrong idea, and I needed to talk to her before just jumping to conclusions. I parked my car and got out, still staring at them in curiosity.

  That was when I noticed how stressed Lydia looked because I was paying attention now. She had one hand on the door, the other on the doorjamb like she was blocking the man from entering. She had a tightly worn expression, one I’d never seen on her face before. Then she slammed the door in the man’s face.

  What the fuck?

  I’d never seen Lydia act like that. Not that I got to see her interact with many people, since a lot of our time together was spent in her bedroom, but still. The reaction was too unexpected, all directed at this particular man who was still standing on her doorstep as if expecting her to open up for him again?

  She didn’t, which was consoling, but I realized I was angry that this man was even here.

  This fuckwad… who is he, and what did he do to upset my Lydia?

  The possessive thought jumped in my mind suddenly, and though I’d been avoiding her before and at times too busy to find a moment for us to share, I didn’t bother lying to myself. I’d missed her over the past few weeks because it was hard to get even a glimpse of her. I’d known before, if I saw her, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself going to her right away, that was how deep I was already. That was the main reason I hadn’t allowed my new employee to lock up. The delay kept me from seeing her.

  And now here was this guy, upsetting her, and I couldn’t just look away. I’d had plans of going home and resting, but decided to head over to her place instead, stalking up her driveway. At around the same time, the man turned around and walked towards me. His brow was furrowed in a frown, and he was looking down. He probably didn’t even see me.
r />   I could see long before it happened that he was going to walk right into me. I hadn't meant to do anything to him, just go straight to Lydia and ask for answers directly from her. I didn’t want to get into a fist fight in her front yard. I already knew she didn’t like fighting.

  But because I was pissed, I didn’t bother making room for him.

  When our shoulders bumped, we both stumbled back from the impact. I hid a wince. Fuck, this guy was a little buff under the baggy black jacket he was wearing. I could see though, when he looked up, that he was way older than me, near to or in his forties.

  “Watch where you’re walking, you fucking asshole,” he growled, glaring at me.

  Heh. So he’s got attitude?

  I was looking for whatever excuse I could get to kick this guy’s ass, and he just handed it to me on a platter.

  “What did you just call me?” I asked, my voice low and threatening, taking a step forward.

  He wasn’t a coward, straightening his back and taking a step closer, his glare intensifying. If I hadn't gotten into a ring with guys bigger and with worse looks than he had, I might have reconsidered. I might have done boxing as a competition before, but it was still basically two guys beating each other up with one of them trying to win.

  I didn’t lose easily.

  “You heard me just fine,” he growled back. He glanced over at the house, and back to me. “What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t tell me you’re something to do with Lydia?” He scoffed, eyeing me up and down with hard blue eyes.

  That had me seeing red. “So what if I am? You got a problem with that?”

  “Yeah, I have a problem with it. I suggest you turn your ass around, little boy, and go back home. I think it’s past your bedtime, yeah? Lydia can do way better than you, anyway.”

  “I think you want to watch what you say,” I growled low, the threat in my voice unmistakable.

  He smirked. “Oh, don’t tell me she’s your type. She’s too old for you, don’t you think? Leave her the fuck alone.”