by Turner, Xyla
There was no television, no pictures, and no signs of life other than the half-naked body that exuded massive amounts of heat on my back.
“Well, seems like you're a tidy neighbor,” I chuckled more to myself. “Let's see what you have to eat.”
I skipped into the kitchen, eager to see and just as equally to make sure he didn't turn around and toss me out.
The kitchen resembled the living room but it held a seating area for four. He probably ate all of his meals here.
“Breakfast?” I said as I opened the old refrigerator.
More silence.
I peered over the door of the cooling appliance and saw his hand running through his hair as his brows were pulled together.
“What are you doing?” he asked through gritted teeth. His voice was deeper than it was the night before.
“Making breakfast.” I raised an eyebrow. “Last I checked it was eight o’clock.”
“Why are you in my apartment?” His patience seemed to be held together by a thread.
His hand was gripping the locks of his hair to the point that his forehead no longer had the horizontal worry lines.
“You helped me out of a jam and I’m cooking for you.” I stood to my full height and looked around the room. “Unless there is someone else that you have that can cook around here and you’re keeping them in hiding.”
“Fuck,” he exhaled sharply. “I was just taking out the fucking trash.”
“And,” I pulled out the carton of eggs, “I just happened to be going to do the same thing by myself.”
He stared at me for a bit but said nothing. So, I grabbed the butter and bacon from the refrigerator and looked around for the pancake batter.
“Oh, great. You have a waffle maker.” I was basically talking to myself.
He didn’t respond anyway so I kept moseying around, whipping, baking, and preparing the food to eat. Mr. bare chest and mesh shorts remained in the doorway without saying one word, staring at me while I continued to take over his kitchen. Twenty minutes later, the food was hot and ready. So after searching high and low for his dinnerware, which were found neatly stacked in the top cabinet, I prepared our plates.
“Okay, Zou. Breakfast is ready.”
Placing his hot plate on the table closest to the seat he was near; I returned to the counter to retrieve mine as well.
“Sit, the food won’t eat itself.” I waved my hand towards him as he continued to stare. “Zou, are you really going to have me waste your food and then eat alone. That’s just poor hospitality.”
Reluctantly, he let his hair go, turned the chair around backwards and sat in it straddling the back of the chair, then pulled the plate towards him. Although he watched me cook every bit of the food, he examined it until he felt satisfied enough to consume it. After one bite of the eggs, he continued to eat without saying one word. I silently ate my food because I didn’t want to bother him anymore than I already had. When he finished, I picked up our plates, washed the dishes, pots and pans, and let them dry in the dishwasher rack.
Turning to him, I said, “Well, thanks for breakfast. Maybe tomorrow we can have some music playing.”
“Music?” His eyebrows went up.
“Uh, yeah. I must pay off my debt.” I nodded and headed towards the door. “This was fun, Zou.”
Smiling at him, I opened his front door and walked out.
“I’m not cooking fish tonight, but you’re welcome to come by say seven-ish.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I’ll have food.”
“What?” He was standing in the doorway.
“Zou, you’re so funny. Is that all you say?” I pursed my lips and tried to mimic him, “What?”
The corner of his mouth turned up either in confusion or a smirk, but I laughed.
“See ya.” I waved my hand at him and climbed the stairs.
There was so much to do, but having my morning energy was important to make sure that I could focus for the next few hours. I was in a bracelet making mood, so that’s what I intended to do.
* * *
The next morning, I knocked on my neighbor’s door for almost fifteen minutes. After I started to pound, he opened it slightly and asked, “What?”
“You know what.” I pushed the door but it didn’t budge. “Zou, we have to eat.”
“I will eat.” He countered.
“You’re in a silly mood today.” I folded my arms over my chest. “Did you eat breakfast without me?”
I laughed.
He mimicked my stance and crossed his arms over his shirt, so I took advantage and pushed the door open to enter.
“Same thing as yesterday?” I called behind me, while I made my way to the kitchen.
“Seriously, what the fuck are you doing?” The growled words seemed to get louder and closer, causing me to turn around.
“I’m making breakfast.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Why are you so grumpy?”
“It’s eight in the fucking morning and you barge in my place to make some goddamn breakfast. You don’t know me. Do you do this with all the neighbors?”
“Oh no, just you.” I opened the refrigerator and pulled the eggs from the top shelf.
“I’ll ask again.” He was closing the refrigerator. “What are you doing here? You don’t owe me shit and I haven’t asked for anything. I just want to be left alone for fucks sake.”
My hand patted his chest twice.
“Wow, coffee it is.” I smiled. “You might need it dark because you definitely didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Just tell me, you’re crazy, right?” his arms crossed over his broad chest again. “You’re on medication.”
I stared at him for a beat, then I burst out laughing.
“Zou, you are hilarious.” I shook my head and pulled out more breakfast items. “The next time you go shopping, be sure to get some yogurt.”
This time, I scrambled the eggs and cooked sausages instead of frying the bacon. Pancakes, instead of waffles and orange juice instead of apple. Portions and variety were key since he was clearly a grown man and had these items in his kitchen. When I finished, he reluctantly sat down, ate his food in silence and we parted the same way as yesterday. My promising to come the next day, he asking what and me laughing as I continued to my place to make more bracelets.
My jewelry business had been booming over the past few months, which led to an increase in my savings account. My father would be happy since he thought I was bat-shit crazy for leaving my permanent nine-to-five job with benefits. The business started off slow, but after a while I was able to afford health insurance and other small luxuries like Ben & Jerry’s ice-cream. The town of Lily had been a great home for me for now, but most of my income was from mobile sources and not local. I chose the area because I wanted the peace and quiet. Now, my new neighbor was full of jokes and slightly disrupting my peace and quiet.
Well, I thought he was funny.
Every day that week, I went to his door and knocked. The third day, he took much longer to answer but after my insistent banging, he opened and we repeated our little dance of the ‘why are you here’ nonsense. However, on Friday, he simply opened the door and let me in. There was yogurt in the refrigerator.
“Oh my God. He did listen to me!” I exclaimed.
He shook his head and kept up his usual silence. Sometime around the mid-week mark, I began to fill the silence with my musings.
“You know that wooden front door is the only original wood left in the place. Everything else in the apartment building has been renovated from wood to brick or sheetrock. It's not stainless steel or marble counters, but it works and it's clean. When I first moved here, it dawned on me that I wouldn’t have all of the luxuries that I was used to. However, I’d take Lily any day.”
I laughed out loud and voiced another musing. “Well, at least yours is really clean. I would ask you where you learned your skills but you'll just eat and stare at me, right…not one for a lot of conversation. Anyway, you're re
ally funny. I don't need to pour out my strawberry shake. I'll assume you're not allergic to anything.”
My upper body leaned over the table.
“I see no hives,” I murmured as I realized he probably thought I was checking him out because he was shirtless and his blond mussy hair stood every which way.
These were the days, I’m glad I was dark because he would have been able to see the scorching blush that crawled up my neck like it was waiting to choke me.
“Sorry,” I murmured.
“For what?” He appeared puzzled by my apology.
“Nothing.” I resumed eating my toast.
“It must be for something because you have yet to apologize for anything. Despite coming into my place uninvited, you return daily literally taking over my mornings and my kitchen.” He put his fork down. “So, if you're apologizing then I need to know for what. There's a list.”
O-kay.
Before I could even produce a fake cough to hide it, I burst out laughing, spraying toast crumbs all over my food and on the table.
“Zou, you really are funny,” I managed to say once I calmed down.
“Whew.” My hand hit the table. “I was apologizing because I realized you don't have on a shirt and while I was looking at your chest to see if you had broken out or anything, I didn't want you to think I was checking you out. I wasn't.”
He said nothing.
“I wasn't.” I raised my right hand. “Promise.”
He shook his head and if I’m not mistaken, I saw a smirk on his face.
Well, that was progress and I'd take it.
When it was time for me to leave, I said “Okay, Zou. I don't cook breakfast on the weekends. However, you're welcome to come by. I'll have food.”
He raised an eyebrow at me which made me laugh.
“Right, well I'll see you tomorrow.”
“What?” he asked.
This caused me to laugh again and I said, “You're so silly.”
Chapter 3
Crazy Neighbor
Goliath
Three months.
I had been in this sleepy town for three goddamn months and life was fine. I kept to myself, minded my business, and kept from being seen. My personal life stayed personal and folks did not get in my way.
The quiet allowed me time to think. Allowed me to escape from the memory of the tumultuous noise and the hustle and bustle that I was used to while in Baghdad. Over there, something was always going on and for a while, when not in combat, it was manageable noise.
For fucks sake, I volunteered and did two tours, but the end of my last tour was the final straw. I was broken and dead inside. There was no life within the shell of a body that remained. There were my routines, things that I was trained to do and that was it.
My parents thought I had post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) but that was ruled out. Well, they said I exhibited slight signs but ruled it out, since I was not reliving the events, avoiding situations that reminded me of war, had no negative changes of beliefs or feelings, and I wasn’t feeling hyper. I was quite the opposite. I wasn’t feeling at all.
Some of my military brothers, Key, Buzz and Jeb, had a hard time assimilating back into society. They said they'd rather just live in the world of war over there because it made sense to them. Nothing about living back here in the states made sense. Relationships seemed to be strained, loved ones distant, and of course the constant reminder that you are a product of your environment. The army life, the only way.
We lived it, breathed it, and became it. Then they wanted us to return to civilian life and function as civilians. It was fucked and so were many of us. Maybe we were the damaged ones? The ones that could mentally make it in the civilian, non-military world existing as a type of the living dead.
My mom said there was a TV show about the dead walking around after a zombie apocalypse. Apparently, they aimlessly staggered from place to place, hopelessly looking for their next meal, and starved at a slower pace than the humans. She told me that story as she cried for the umpteenth time because I didn't want to come out and eat.
I didn't like the daylight hours; it reminded me of the times while stationed in Baghdad we were all outside playing catch or a game of chess. The good times before we headed towards our various destinations. The sun was shining and the sand from the truck convoys was always in the air.
Why I moved outside of my hometown in Onley, Pennsylvania, I didn't know, but the beach was close here. Maybe it was to be closer to what was familiar from both worlds. I tried to stay with or near my folks for a little over two and a half years, but they were worrisome and I had to leave.
Why Lily? I wasn’t sure, but nothing mattered anymore. All my money from my time away had been put in savings so now my rent was paid in advance, my truck paid off, and I lived a simple life. All I needed were the essentials and that's how I lived.
My cooking skills were subpar, but my best and favorite meal was breakfast. Lunch and dinner were usually sandwiches or things that could be easily heated to make a meal. My grocery shopping usually took place at night right before the store closed. There were times when I had to make an appearance during the day, but I usually slept during that time and spent my nights awake.
I didn't have a television. I have an old radio that can only get a few stations. Occasionally, I turned it on and listened, while others times I just sat and read books.
My family tried to reach out on a regular basis and I tried to answer so they wouldn’t make a trip to find out what was going on with their only son. They wanted me to get a job and do something to keep my mind active. These were the words from my father, who was well-read on everything about war, especially the symptoms and ramifications of being soldiers. He usually informed my mother and she would cry, then curse the war and everything about it.
I was an only child, so this made everything about my family relationship intensified to ridiculous degrees and they could be obsessive.
When I was overseas she wrote daily letters, with my father’s insertions of course, even if it was just sharing her day; telling me about her latest pinochle debacle and some fruit combo that would be entered in the upcoming fair. As annoying as they might have been, it was probably the one thing of normalcy that kept me going or even in my right mind.
I had brothers who had no one, so Janice was their adopted Mom, to the point where they regularly wanted to know how she handled her cheating pinochle partner’s latest antics. Before long, the reading of letters from Janice became a communal event.
Guys would walk up to me and say things like, “Man, what did Mom say to Lois again?”
It was unreal but that was our life and we lived it and breathed it, until it was time to go. Some went on a mission and never returned. Some returned as less of a person than what they were and some returned, but they would never be the same.
To the army’s credit, they tried to keep us entertained, but the temporary pleasures of a benefit concert or a celebrity visit were fleeting. These events were appreciated but the lasting wounds that no one would ever see are far worse than anyone could imagine.
Knock.
Knock.
That couldn’t be anyone but that damn woman from upstairs. She had not showed up for breakfast like she did the week before, so I figured my debt was paid off. I hadn’t heard from her all weekend and that was good because her perky demeanor early in the morning was annoying as shit.
If it was her, she wouldn’t leave and at some point would start banging on the door. She needed her firm little ass smacked but that wasn’t my job. At this point, my job was to survive her visit. My hope was that she’d lose interest and move the fuck on. I had no interest in her and she seemed like she needed a friend or a pet.
“Yes,” I said as I opened the door.
“Ahh, you are here.” She beamed her white teeth my way.
Her eyes resembled those big eyes on the cartoon characters with long eye lashes that could occasionally get in the
way. She was beautiful and fearless but she was also crazy as shit.
“Get your stuff, so we can go,” she said.
Yup, crazy.
“Go where?”
“To the nursery. We have to get some things for the backyard.”
We?
What?
I ran my fingers through my hair because I always felt like I had missed out on a conversation that took place only in her head. She just fucking makes decisions and then tells me like I’m supposed to read her mind and understand the words that she blabbers on and on about.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked.
She laughed out loud.
She always laughs out loud and it’s a contagious laugh that coats over you and seeps in to stay. I could hear her laughing even when she was not around. It’s not a sound that I can say I’ve heard before, but it is one that I won’t ever forget.
“Zou, our back yard.” She kept laughing but managed to point towards the back of the building. “It has food, flowers, and other things that we need to take care of. Ollie and I planted it a few years ago because the landlord didn’t care. This helps us to keep things organic and it’s another way we make income. Ollie isn’t at his best right now; the chick upstairs is never home so that leaves you.”
She pushed into my apartment, for the sixth time, since I never invited her inside.
“No, I didn’t sign up for this. I signed up for a place to stay. I pay my rent, mind my fucking business, and I just want to be left alone.”
I swore to God, if she laughed I would probably turn her over my knee. She was trespassing anyway, so spanking her ass would not be so out of line.
It must not have been the time because she did not laugh but said, “You have a truck, so come on silly. We need the extra space, otherwise I’d use my car. Go put on a shirt because I don’t want the women beating me up to get to you.”
