Before I really knew what was happening, she moved around until her head was resting on my shoulder. She eased her hand into mine and left it there. She asked if it bothered me, as if that were even possible. I loved it. I didn’t tell her that, though. I just told her I didn’t mind. I couldn’t have her knowing how much I craved the feel of her skin on mine. At least not yet.
I spent most of the day at her place. We talked, we played with the kids, we finished unpacking. It was a great day. In the evening, I found it difficult to leave. I wanted to stay, to curl up on the couch – or bed – with her and share everything.
But all things must end. I made sure the windows and doors were locked before I left. We programmed my phone number into her phone, so the push of one button would summon me. Neither of us trusted Bernie. Neither of us really had a reason not to, but we’d both picked up on the same vibe and it wasn’t a trustworthy one. I let her know that if she needed me for any reason, I could be here in seconds.
I walked home slowly, taking note of Bernie’s place. Sure, I’d seen it a million times, but I’d never really looked at it before. But I did now, as I walked slowly passed his house, never taking my eyes off his residence. I didn’t even watch where I was walking. It was a good thing there were no open manholes, or I would’ve been a goner.
His grass was higher than it should be and had a few beer cans strewn about. His older model car sat in the driveway as unmaintained as ever. I’m not sure it had any hubcaps at all. Rust had begun showing in spots, and the back door on the driver’s side was missing the handle. In his drunken state, he’d parked it in a sloppy manner. Seeing it parked that way and knowing it was because he was drunk reminded me of the way he acted at Carla’s. I was furious with him.
Bernie’s house was exactly the kind of house I pictured someone like him occupying. Shabby, unkempt. Judging from the outside, I could only guess the inside to be filthy. Bernie did nothing to make anyone think otherwise. He was a slovenly person. He was disgusting by nature. Both his personal hygiene and his social etiquette left a lot to be desired. I could smell the filth from the sidewalk.
I’d never paid this much attention to Bernie before. I wasn’t sure why I was now, other than the vile way he’d treated Carla earlier. He’d lived on this street longer than I had, and I’d only talked to him once, back when Holly and I were moving in. I knew from just the one time talking to him that I didn’t like him. I’d never been able to put my finger on the reason, but I just knew there something about him I didn’t like. Holly hadn’t liked him, either. She said he gave her the creeps. It was the way he looked at her when she was outside that made her feel that way. I never knew what had done it for me.
I only knew two things. One, he physically repulsed me.
And two, he wanted Carla.
10 Andy
“Andy, what are you doing?” Jill asked.
Without moving from my position at the window, I said, “Nothing.”
“You’ve been standing there for like ten minutes. What’re you looking at?” She walked over and stood beside me, craning her neck to see around me.
“Owen. He’s just standing there, in front of Bernie’s house.”
“For ten minutes?” Jill asked, as if I’d been standing over here, peeking through the curtains for nothing.
“Yes, dear, ten minutes. He’s just standing there. Staring.” Though Jill had already lost interest and walked away, I had not. I couldn’t figure out what he was doing. It was creepy. It looked like something out of a horror movie. A man, standing perfectly still under the pale streetlamp light, staring at the front of someone’s house.
Creepy.
“What do you think he’s doing out there, Andy?” Jill was feigning interest, I could tell. She was flipping through a magazine, only humoring me with her questions. Without looking at her, I knew the expression she had on her face. Her eyebrows were raised, the corners of her mouth tight. I also knew that she hadn’t even looked up from the magazine as she’d asked about Owen. I knew her like the back of my hand.
“He’s probably on his way back from Carla’s.”
“You know, you sound a little jealous about that.”
She was right. I had said that with more venom than I’d intended. I couldn’t help it. I’d spoken before I’d had a chance to construct my words properly.
“I am jealous.”
Jill gasped.
“Not of Carla, babe. Of Owen.”
Jill gasped twice. “Andy, I had no idea. I think we need to talk,” she kidded, as though I’d meant I had a thing for Owen.
“Funny, babe.” I let the curtains fall closed and walked away from the window. “It’s just that since he’s been seeing her, I never get to see him. It’s been a couple of days since we’ve talked. Did you know that?”
Her jaw fell open. In an overly sarcastic tone, she said, “I’ll alert the media. This can’t continue to go on.” She jumped from her chair and ran for the phone. Before she got to it, I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down on to my lap in the chair she’d just emptied.
“You know what I mean. We talk every day. It’s weird not talking to him. I miss him.”
Jill stared lovingly into my eyes and said, “Suck it up. You still have me.” She kissed me on the cheek quickly and got up from my lap.
“That’s part of the problem, babe. Who do you think I bitch about you to?” I said jokingly as I assumed my position at the window. “Hmm. He’s gone now.” I scanned the street, but didn’t see him.
I kissed Jill goodbye and headed out a little earlier than usual. I was hoping to catch Owen on the porch. I wasn’t kidding about missing him. He was my best friend. I enjoyed his company. I liked the way we teased each other. It made life easier to deal with and it made the days go faster.
Sure enough, he was sitting on his porch. Nothing unusual about that. It was unusual, however, for him to be staring at Bernie’s house. I watched him for a moment, realizing he had no idea I was outside. I turned and looked at Bernie’s house, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, if you can call Bernie’s house ordinary. I looked back at Owen, but his look hadn’t changed. He was glaring. I’d thought for a second that maybe he was looking at Carla’s house, but when I saw the glare, I knew that wasn’t the case.
I had to know.
I walked over as usual and took the chair beside Owen.
“Hey, Andy.” He sounded no different.
“What’s up?”
“Not much.”
I sensed he didn’t want to talk much, but I did.
“So, have you been learning anything about Jenson? Ready to follow him yet?” I laughed a little to try to lighten the mood, but I knew it had sounded as fake as it felt.
“I have a few j’s on my calendar. Haven’t seen him much the past couple days. I’ve been busy.” Whatever it was about Bernie’s house that held his attention let go, and he returned to normal Owen.
I decided to prod a bit. “What’s going on with you and Bernie?”
“He was over at Carla’s at five this morning beating on her door. She tried to close it on him, but he wasn’t going to leave.”
“You were out here that early?” It wasn’t like Owen to be up so early. He’d always preferred to stay up late and sleep late.
“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep.”
“Good thing, I guess. If you weren’t out here, who knows, right?”
He nodded. “Yeah, who knows.”
I was just about to change the subject when Jenson’s porch light came on and his front door opened.
Owen and I looked at each other, then quickly back at Jenson’s house.
“Surely not...” I said.
We watched as Jenson brought out a trash bag. This time, it was white, and he was carrying it as if it weighed nothing. He carried it to the end of his sidewalk, put it in his trashcan, and went back inside.
We sat in silence long after he’d closed the door and extinguished the porch light.
Finally, I said, “What do you suppose is in that bag?”
Owen, not skipping a beat, said, “Trash.”
Growing excited, I said, “Let’s go look.”
Owen looked at me, puzzled. “You want to go dig through an old man’s trash? I don’t think Jill gives you enough chores to keep you busy.”
“You know you want to just as much as I do. I’m more curious now than ever. Aren’t you?”
After a brief hesitation, Owen agreed.
“Alright. We’ll wait a while, and then we’ll go. We don’t want to be seen digging through the trash.” I sat back, clasping my hands across my torso, elbows on the arms of the chair. I crossed my feet, settling in for the wait.
“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.
11 Andy
“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?”
12 Owen
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 t
ook 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.
The Good Neighbor Page 5
