ThisTimeNextDoor

by Gretchen Galway

  “I hate dining rooms. It’s nice in here.” He shoved the newspapers to the side and put both plates on the table. “Eat while I look for the hard stuff.”

  “I’m not hungry.” She finished her wine, gazed into the bottom of the empty glass.

  “Sit.” Two firm hands on her shoulders pressed her down into a chair. The pasta was as pale as the sauce. The basil was still sitting on the counter. And the asparagus was in the microwave. “This is the worst dinner I’ve ever made in my life.”

  A martini appeared on the table in front of her. “Now you’re just bragging.” He sat down next to her and made a show of unfurling a paper napkin in the air. “I hope you don’t mind if I start eating. I’m starving.”

  She sipped her drink, heart still in her throat, head spinning.

  When the alcohol began to take the edge off, she let herself settle back into her chair, regained some of her earlier calm, fantasy though it was, and watched him dig in. He managed to consume an impressive mound of penne with each forkful.

  “Did you learn to shovel like that in Wisconsin?” she asked. “All that snow?”

  He grinned, cheeks bulging, and saluted her with his wine. “She’s back.”

  She took a bite. “It’s not terrible, is it?”

  They ate in silence for several minutes. When she saw he was slowing down, she shoved the plate away to focus on the martini. “Imagine how good it would’ve been with the other half of the ingredients.”

  “I hate ingredients,” he said.

  She laughed. Held up her glass. “Here’s to hate.”

  He tapped his glass against hers. “To hate.”

  They drank. She took another bite. It wasn’t bad at all, actually.

  “So,” Mark said, pushing away his empty plate. “What the hell just happened?”

  “Guess I can’t cook under stress.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  She glanced at him, then back at her plate. “She thinks she has to give him another chance.”

  “If you don’t want to explain, you can say it’s none of my business.”

  Empty stomach, wine, martini. Putting her hands on the table, she tested her leg stability before standing up all the way. “Let’s fix the furnace. I could use a distraction.”

  He shook his head but followed her out of the kitchen and down the hall. She grabbed the duct tape and flashlight from the hall table before making her way to the basement stairs.

  “You aren’t as steady on your feet as you were earlier,” he said. “Why don’t you hold the light while I get up on the ladder?”

  Halfway down the stairs into the gloom, she turned the beam of light on him. “You brought a ladder?”

  Squinting into the light, he said, “Rose.”

  “What?”

  He turned around and went back up the stairs to the house.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “To get a ladder. Why don’t you come with me?”

  The darkness was soothing. She sat down on the steps and clicked the flashlight on and off. It wasn’t that she was jealous, not the way they thought. How could she be jealous of an unplanned pregnancy, a relationship without love, and no time to sort it out properly?

  “What happened, Rose?”

  And she wasn’t dying to have a baby. Someday, probably, but she was only twenty-six, and her mom had been warning her since puberty about the price of growing up with your babies instead of before.

  “I really didn’t expect it to hit me this hard,” she said. “I’m sorry. Very embarrassing.”

  The stairs creaked as he came down to join her, sitting one step above hers, his legs stretching down alongside her raised knees. He didn’t say anything, which was nice. Just waited.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” she finally said.

  * * *

  The beam of the flashlight lit up the dust motes in the dark basement like fireflies.

  “A long way back, ages and ages ago,” she said, “so long ago I can hardly remember it, John and I had a little thing going.”

  Mark let out an audible breath. “Rosie Posey.”

  Hearing that nickname on his lips in the darkness gave her an odd shock. She stifled a shiver. “I didn’t blame Blair. Well, I did at first. The baby changed everything, of course.”

  “She’s only, what, a few months pregnant?”

  “Not even. She tested positive at only eleven days.”

  “So, how long ago was this long ago, ancient relationship?”

  This was what she didn’t want to get into. It gave the wrong impression—of Blair, of herself, even of John. Flicking the flashlight back off, she stood up. “It ended the night the baby was conceived. Let’s go upstairs, shall we? You’re right, the furnace can wait.”

  He didn’t get up. “Jesus,” he said. “But why did you move out here? Are you a masochist?”

  “Not at all.” She nudged his knee with her foot. “Cashing in on my victimhood. Since she got herself knocked up by my boyfriend, Blair has to let me live here rent-free. See? I’m actually quite mercenary.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Smart man.” She shoved him harder. “You going to stay there all night?”

  Apparently.

  “I can’t believe she’d do that,” he said softly, not moving.

  “Don’t think less of her. Please. She knew I’d just decided to break up with him. And she told me right away what happened, the very next morning. She cried harder than I did.”

  His hands found hers in the dark, took the flashlight from her. The sudden light blinded her eyes. “You cried?”

  She kicked him and took the flashlight. “I got over it.” He was big, but she wedged her foot under his ribs to find the next step and climbed up and over him.

  “Obviously,” he said behind her. “That’s why I found the chicken in the dishwasher.”

  To hell with what he thought. She jogged up the stairs to the house. The kitchen was a mess, even after she took the poultry out of the top rack of the Whirlpool. The basil could be saved, but the rest would go in the trash. Next time her ex-boyfriend came to woo her pregnant roommate, she’d order takeout.

  Mark came up behind her, rinsed his plate in the sink.

  After a couple minutes of silent, side-by-side dishwashing, she said, “I just need to know why he’s here so I know how I should react, how I should treat him, how I should feel.”

  He handed her a handful of rinsed silverware to put in the dishwasher.

  “Is he here to tell Blair he’s changed his mind?” she asked. “Or to start planning for shared custody? Single custody? Marriage?”

  “Was it only that one, uh, time, or did they date?”

  “They dated. There wasn’t even a few days’ breather.”

  “It’s official—I don’t understand women. How could you stand that?”

  “It sounds worse than it was,” she said. “He and I never got serious. We met at the gym, started working out at the same times, having a smoothie at the club afterwards. One thing led to another and he ended up at my place. It was mostly a physical relationship. We never talked about the future, or even if we were exclusive.”

  “And then he met Blair,” Mark said.

  “I introduced them, and now look at her. Half the time I feel like I should apologize to her.”

  He didn’t laugh. “I don’t think you should.”

  That was sweet. “Blair’s never had any luck with guys. You’d think it would be the reverse, wouldn’t you? Small and petite, not an ounce of fat on her… but no. She’s always hidden herself behind a book, video games, the Internet, big sweatshirts, baseball caps, baggy jeans,” Rose said. “She never dated in college. After graduation, it was just work and hiding herself away at home, never wanting to go out.”

  “Huh,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know. You can relate.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  He would’ve been perfect for Blair.
Something else to feel bad about. She punched the button to start the dishwasher. “Look, Mark, I’m obviously screwed up right now. The rest of the mess can wait until the morning. I think I need to be alone. Do you mind?”

  He looked at her. His eyes were serious, grayish blue with long, curled lashes she would’ve killed for. “I’ll bring a ladder over in the morning.”

  “No, don’t worry about it,” she said. “The list for the hardware store is getting ridiculous. I’ll get one in the morning with everything else.”

  He picked up the duct tape where he’d placed it on the counter. “Don’t forget this, though.” Slipping the dish towel out of her hands, he replaced it with the roll of tape and folded her fingers over it. “You wouldn’t want to buy more than you needed.”

  “Thanks, Mark. You’re a nice guy.” She walked him to the door, thinking someone so reclusive had to be eager to get out of the house, away from the social drama. The contagion of people.

  “Lot more than you bargained for, aren’t we?” she said, pulling the door open.

  He turned back and studied her for a moment before smiling and walking away.

  She figured that was the last she’d see of him.

  * * *

  Mark confronted his mother in the upstairs bathroom while she was giving all three dogs a bath in the large spa tub. The jets kept them paddling furiously while the steam rose up around their pointy ears. His mother called it their aqua aerobics class.

  “Funny thing,” he said, leaning against the wall next to the tub and crossing his arms. “You never forget to tell me when the mailman dropped off a package, if the meter reader came by, if a bird bumped into the front window. Yet you forgot to tell me one of our next-door neighbors came by to cancel her dinner invitation.”

  She drizzled blue shampoo on Zeus's head and lathered his quivering body with both hands. He was the biggest one, dark brown with white feet, and not purebred Chihuahua or anything with its own rescue organization—which was why his mother kept him. Mark wasn’t convinced Zeus was a dog. Perhaps a guinea pig with a long nose. Who barked like a baby with a chest infection.

  “Mom,” he said.

  “You had a nice time, though, didn’t you?”

  “Sure. Until the man they’re both in love with showed up.”

  She dropped Zeus and twisted around to look up at him. “Both of them?”

  “It’s a mess over there, trust me. Rose was doing me a favor in trying to keep me away.”

  “From looking at your room, I’d decided you liked a mess,” she said.

  “Very funny.”

  Done with the swim, Zeus scrambled up on the tile ledge around the tub, body shivering, nails clicking. Mark swiftly captured him in a towel before doggy reflexes shook the water all over the place. Cuddling him to his chest, Mark rubbed some warmth into him. He was an ugly dude, but sweet as hell. Too bad he couldn’t keep that tongue in his mouth. Or open both eyes at the same time.

  “I take it you’re talking about Johnny, Ellen’s boy,” his mother said.

  “Everyone calls him John.”

  “He finally came,” she said. “That’s good. Good for him.”

  “After months of silence, the guy just shows up, no warning, big smile, waves his dick around—and he gets a prize?”

  “Watch your language, please.”

  He sighed, let Zeus lick his face. The only tongue action he’d had in a long time. “Sorry. But you’re too forgiving. He left Blair here to face it all on her own. And now she’s grateful—grateful—he’s decided to man up.”

  “It’s a tough situation. Hard to do the right thing.”

  Mark shot her a look. “You’re defending him?”

  “No. I’m defending her.”

  He rubbed Zeus between the ears. “She’s sweet.”

  “I’m sure.” She shot him a sympathetic look. “What did they cook for you? I bet it was good.”

  “Rose put the chicken in the dishwasher so we never got to eat it. And Blair went out with John.”

  “Oh…”

  “Then Rose got drunk and told me she’d been dating John when he got Blair pregnant.”

  “Oh my.” She reached down to pull the drain plug. The remaining two dogs, Luna and Europa, rubbed up against her arm, desperate to escape. They found the drain’s slurping noise terrifying. She patted their backs, waiting for the water to drain, and in a moment the dogs were shaking and dancing in the empty tub with towels thrown over them.

  “Yeah. So,” he said. “Next time, would you please give me my messages?”

  “What makes you think they’re both in love with him?”

  “I’m observant.” Mark set Zeus on the floor. The dog tore away to race through the house, rub his ears on the carpets, break outside to replenish his stink. Good idea. “I’m going out for a run. I’ll take Zeus with me.”

  “You never know what could happen. John has a lot of explaining to do.” Holding Europa in her arms, she frowned at Mark’s frayed A’s T-shirt. “Didn’t you go shopping yesterday? Those shirts are muy elegante. Why aren’t you wearing one of those? I bet the red is very flattering.”

  “You looked through the bags?”

  “I hung it all up in your closet where it belonged. You left two thousand dollars worth of gorgeous new clothes from Nordstrom’s in a pile next to your laundry,” she said. “You make me look bad. People will think I didn’t raise you right.”

  He kissed her on the cheek, wondering if it was time to get his own place. “Please don’t go through my things.”

  “I’m sorry, but it was a crime to leave it there on the floor. Really, a crime. I bet her eyes lit up, didn’t they, when you went over for dinner? Quite a change from what you had on when you fixed the car.”

  “I didn’t fix anything.”

  “Wait until she sees you without them, though. Then she’ll really be impressed.”

  Face flooding with heat, he handed her the dog towel. “I need to get out of here.”

  His mother followed him out into the hall. “Wear the black shorts from Fite your brother gave you. They really show off your you know what.”

  “Thank you, Mother,” he said through his teeth, ducking into his bedroom and locking the door. He didn’t hesitate to choose his baggiest, grubbiest basketball shorts. When he got back he’d start looking for a condo or something. Hell, maybe he could pick one out on his run; plenty of real estate on the market these days.

  Her voice came through the crack in the doorway. “I meant your bottom, honey, not your penis.”

  That’s it. I’m bringing my checkbook. I’ll be in escrow by the time I’m back to shower.

  Chapter 6

  AROUND NOON, BLAIR FINALLY CALLED Rose on her cell.

  After scanning websites all morning for a job, Rose was sitting at the patio table on the rear deck, laptop and coffee in front of her, revising her résumé. Anything was better than reliving the night before in her mind. The way John looked at her over Blair’s shoulder, guilty but smug. The shock in Mark’s voice when he learned about their past. The bits of slimy poultry carcass still clinging to the silverware basket.

  “I can’t talk much right now,” Blair said, “but I had to talk to you.”

  “When did you get in?” Rose had stayed up until one-thirty, but that wasn’t late enough.

  “It was late. We had a lot to talk about.”

  “And you slipped out of here before I woke up this morning—”

  “I didn’t even sleep. Just took a shower and got on the train.”

  “God, you must be exhausted. Just give me the quick version.”

  Silence.

  Rose tensed. “That bad?”

  “No, it’s good. For me. I mean, I hope it is. It is. But, Rose…”

  More silence. Rose ran a hand through her hair, twisted a strand at her temple. “If it’s good for you, then that’s good. Don’t get upset.”

  “Look, I’ll be home at six. We’ll talk then.”

&
nbsp; “If you’re that afraid of talking to me, you’re either moving back to New York or he’s moving in. Which is it?”

  “I want you to know, no matter what happens, you can stay in the house. He and I agree on that. Absolutely. We both feel horrible about what happened.”

  As if it had been an act of God. What happened. Like a hurricane or cancer. Whoops, that penis just fell right into the vagina, nothing we could do about it but ride it out.

  Rose scrolled over her résumé and deleted PEDIATRIC CARDIOLOGIST, 2003 - PRESENT. Best not to put the big lies in print. “No matter what happens, don’t feel sorry for me. Really, Blair, it just pisses me off,” she said. “And anyway, I’ve got a job starting Monday.” Given that it was only Wednesday, that gave her a few days to make it true.

  “That’s fantastic. Where?”

  “Oh, no. You’re tired. We can talk when you get home.”

  Blair let out a breathy laugh. “Touché. All right, that’s fair. But like I said, don’t worry. No matter what you’ve got a place to live.”

  “Just tell me. Is he moving in?”

  A long pause, then, “Yes.”

  “Soon?”

  Blair’s voice couldn’t hide her happiness. “Yes. Soon. He’s… oh, Rose, he groveled. He really did. He… he cried. He told me about his therapist, who helped him see how much his panic and withdrawal had to do with his mother, and how he doesn’t know how I can forgive him but he’s willing to wait. He’s already reduced his hours at work so he can make the transition to California, and he has a business contact in Cupertino and Los Gatos or Los Mateo or, I don’t remember exactly, and…”

  Rose let her rattle on, tuning out the details of John’s big revelation and plans for the future.

  Damn it. Well, it was her own damn fault. She’d known when she moved out here there wouldn’t be any guarantees. She’d just expected to have a bit more time. “I’ll figure it out.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Blair said.

  “Not to be a bitch, but I’m getting sick of you saying that. You slept with my boyfriend. You got pregnant. Let’s move on.”

  “I love him, Rose.”

  “Better you than me.”

  Blair squeaked out another apology and Rose hung up. Fighting the urge to hurl her laptop off the deck like a Frisbee, she walked inside, found the duct tape, the flashlight, and a chair, and went down into the basement.