Won't You Be My Neighbor?

by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  He seemed to be waiting for her to respond before he spoke again. “Yes,” she prompted.

  “I came to apologize about yesterday. My grandma is, uh, well, she sort of has a short fuse. I know it’s no excuse or anything, but she’s under a lot of pressure. My grandpa has been sick, and she’s raising me, and, well, I’m, um, sorry.” He looked down at the floor in a gesture Blair knew well. She recognized a kindred spirit; the boy was shy.

  “It’s okay,” she said.

  He was still frowning and staring at the ground between them, probably trying to think of a graceful way out.

  “I don’t know many of the teenagers here. What’s your name?”

  “Tyler,” her muttered.

  “How old are you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Do you go to the high school in town?”

  He shook his head. “I do the virtual academy; I’m homeschooled.”

  Homeschooling plus shyness could be a lethal combination without parents who pushed for proper socialization. Without her school friends, Blair would have been a social recluse much earlier. As it was, she’d had a few friends. She wondered if Tyler had any friends. Her heart went out to him. “Are you involved much in the activities here?”

  He shrugged. She didn’t blame him for not wanting to confess the details of his life to someone he probably viewed as middle-aged. Blair blamed her newly-acquired and insatiable curiosity about other people for the uncomfortable interview. Tyler tugged at her heart, though. In him, she sensed a resounding loneliness, one that echoed shades of her own teenage years. At last, inspiration struck.

  “Sometimes I need someone to do odd jobs around my house. I don’t suppose you might be interested in earning a little money.”

  His eyes brightened as he finally looked up. Money—the universal language. Who didn’t long for the chance to earn a little extra spending money? “Sure,” he said, all enthusiasm now. “I’m a hard worker. I can do anything you need.”

  Blair scavenged in her purse for a pen and paper. “Write down your phone number and name. I’ll give you a call as soon as I decide what needs doing the most. As long as you clear it with your grandmother.” Propriety demanded that Blair be the one to make the call, but she was terrified of the woman. Tyler was on his own when it came to handling that particular hurdle.

  “She won’t care,” Tyler assured Blair. “She’ll be glad for me to make some money.” He offered up a tentative smile. Blair returned it and he faded from view as silently as he had arrived.

  Blair was just getting back into a groove when Susan arrived.

  “Are you up for lunch today, Blair?”

  Blair was tantalizingly close to the end of her project. She gave a longing look at her shelves before asking herself WWTR, What Would Tristan Recommend? “Lunch sounds great,” Blair said.

  “I’m not quite ready,” Susan said. “I need to finish up a couple of things. Is that okay?”

  “Take your time,” Blair said, trying hard not to infuse her voice with too much enthusiasm. As soon as Susan was out of sight, she returned to work at twice her normal pace. The last book went on the shelf just as Susan stepped through the door.

  Susan whistled. “This looks amazing, Blair.”

  “Thank you,” Blair said. The feeling of accomplishment washed over her. Every book was in alphabetical order and perfectly aligned on the shelves. She remembered to save a spot for the classics and planned to begin scouring used book stores in order to build up the church’s collection.

  Susan stuck her head out the door, looked both ways up and down the hall, and closed the door. “I heard about yesterday,” she whispered. “Mrs. Hardwick stopped in the office and talked to the pastor.”

  Blair’s hands clutched on her purse. “What did he say?”

  “The same thing he always says: ‘Yes, Mrs. Hardwick; I’ll look into it, Mrs. Hardwick.’ Between you and me and the paperbacks, the woman is a constant complainer. She’s not happy unless she’s being a martyr. The pastor was so fed up from dealing with her that he took the afternoon off yesterday.”

  “The pastor has trouble dealing with people?”

  “Everyone has trouble dealing with Mrs. Hardwick. I suppose I should feel sorry for her since her husband is sick and she’s saddled with her teenage grandson, but I have a suspicion she was like this before all that. I probably shouldn’t be saying any of this. Confidentiality is sort of important in my job, but I don’t think you’re much of a gossip.”

  Blair shook her head. Even if she was inclined to blab, which she wasn’t, she couldn’t fathom who she could confide in. Sully? She tried to picture telling Sully about the goings on of her church and almost laughed at his imagined response. You’re telling me this why, Miss P?

  “You inspired me to choose somewhere healthier today,” Susan said. Ten minutes later, they met at a deli. Blair was thankful she could buy half a sandwich after all the rich food she had been eating lately.

  “This is nice,” she said, looking around at the renovated warehouse turned lunch counter.

  “Yeah, it is,” Susan said. She gazed at the interior with a sad smile. “I haven’t been here in a long time. My husband used to bring me here when we were in high school.”

  “We could have gone somewhere else,” Blair said.

  Susan shook her head. “No, I’m tired of mourning, tired of not living my life to the fullest. I’m tired of being sad, Blair. I want to move on.” She leaned close and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I want to date. I think I’m ready. I don’t suppose you know any eligible men.”

  Sully popped into Blair’s head, but she dismissed him. After witnessing Sharon’s awkward attempts to ensnare him, she didn’t want to unleash anyone else on him. “I don’t know many men,” Blair said. Beside them, a family with a little girl sat and set out their food. Blair and Susan paused their conversation to watch.

  “I always wanted a little girl,” Susan mused.

  Blair looked up as if one of those cartoon light bulbs had just gone off over her head. “A girl?”

  Susan nodded. “I love my boys, but there’s something so sweet and special about little girls. Maybe it’s the clothes.”

  “If you dated and he had kids, would that be okay with you?” Blair asked.

  “I couldn’t very well demand that the person I date doesn’t have kids if I have kids,” Susan said.

  “I might know someone,” Blair said. “Do you like puppies?” Puppies had been an important sticking point with Tim for whatever reason.

  “Yes,” Susan drawled. “Why?”

  “He’s really into women who like puppies,” Blair said. She told Susan about her odd date with Tim. By the end of her story, Susan was laughing.

  “Blair, he’s shopping for a suitable replacement mom for his daughter. When you said you didn’t want a puppy, he took it as a sign that you weren’t into kids.”

  “I’m not into kids,” Blair said.

  “Then he was right.” She paused, her smile fading. “He sounds a little desperate. Is he desperate?”

  Blair shrugged. “How would I know? I had no idea we were on a date, no idea he was mentally measuring me for ‘World’s Best Mom’ aprons. Obviously I’m abysmal at reading signals. But he’s okay looking and he seemed stable, except for the puppy thing.” She paused, biting her lip. “How do you feel about mustaches?”

  “I couldn’t care less,” Susan said.

  “Okay. I’ll contact him and try to set something up. Maybe I could invite you both to supper at my house.”

  “It’s a sign of my desperation that I’m taking your castoffs,” Susan said.

  “He’s not my castoff. I’m not interested in him that way, but not because of any defect in him.” She paused again, toying with her straw. “The defect is in me, I guess.”

  “What defect?”

  “I’m in therapy to learn how to relate to people. Dating is so far over my head that I’ll never get there, and I don’t really want t
o. I’m not the kind of woman men date.”

  “What kind is that? Pretty, intelligent, put together, financially and emotionally stable? Yeah, any man would be crazy to go for you.”

  Blair could feel herself blushing under Susan’s kind words and scrutiny. “Thanks for that, but that’s not really what I meant. I’m no good at navigating relationships, at the give and take, at learning to bend and communicate. I’m not flirty or fun. In essence, I’m the quintessential old maid.”

  “Oh, Blair,” Susan said. “Don’t do that. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  “I’m not, and I’m not feeling sorry for myself, either. I’m simply being honest about my abilities and limitations. And it’s okay. I gave up hopes and dreams of dating a long time ago. I like my life. I mean, I liked my life as it was. It was safe and comfortable. But I’m learning to like the changes I’m making, too. Talking to people, reaching out and making friends, it’s nice. I don’t need anything more.”

  “I wish I had that same sort of contentment,” Susan said. “I think people are wrong when they say it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. You sound settled, happy, even. I yearn. I wake up in the night and miss my husband’s warmth. I miss his smell, his touch, his breathing. I miss men. The other day while the kids were at a friend’s, I used my rare and precious free time to go to the mall. You know what I did? I went to the men’s section and sniffed cologne. How pathetic can you possibly get?”

  Blair thought of Sharon and her predatory attempts to trap Sully. “A lot more, surprisingly,” she said.

  They continued to discuss men, dating, and fashion—three subjects that weren’t usually at the top of Blair’s list. By the end of lunch, she felt younger and more carefree. Even though she listened more than she talked, she’d had fun. She laughed. Blair’s project at the church was over, but she and Susan made plans to have lunch together once a week at the deli. A standing lunch date, Blair thought. Tristan will be thrilled. They also made plans to have supper at Blair’s house as soon as she could arrange it with Tim. She was less excited about that part since it meant she would have to call him. She had never called a man before, at least not for any social purpose.

  In order to put off the encounter as long as possible, she stopped on the street corner and once again bought flowers for her neighbor. She had been so upset the last time that she never made the visit. Today she would do it.

  Mrs. Caruthers was thrilled to see Blair. The older lady’s loneliness was palpable. Blair felt that her visits were a drop in the bucket of what was needed to keep Mrs. Caruthers properly socialized. Life was ironic that way. For so many years, Blair had hidden away in her house, not wanting to be a part of the world. And there sat her neighbor, dying to be involved with people but unable to leave her house.

  “Mrs. Caruthers, do you go to church anywhere?” Blair asked when she could get a word in.

  “I used to be a regular attender,” Mrs. Caruthers replied. “But that was before my hips gave out. I don’t drive anymore, and it’s hard to get around.”

  “You could go to church with me, if you like,” Blair offered. “I would drive you.” After she made the offer, she felt anxious about the potential rejection, but she needn’t have worried. Mrs. Caruthers’ face lit.

  “That would be wonderful,” she declared.

  She was so excited that Blair decided to look into more activities for her. Their town had a senior center. Did they have transportation for people who couldn’t drive or programs for shut-ins? She would check. Being unable to drive shouldn’t be the deciding factor in Mrs. Caruthers’ confinement.

  Like the first visit, the second lasted a long time, so long that Sully was just pulling in when she stepped onto her porch. Blair waved. He waved in return as he drove into his garage.

  When she went into her own house, she had a message from Tim.

  “Hi, Blair. I called that dog rescue place, but she’s going to be out of town for a couple weeks. We should probably get together before then.” He left his number, but Blair was so annoyed that she had to listen to it twice. She had told Tim she didn’t need him to go with her to the dog rescue place. Should she foist him on Susan when he was so pushy? Then again, Susan seemed like the type of woman who liked to be taken care of. She should let them meet and decide for themselves. With that bracing thought in mind, she picked up the phone and dialed.

  “Blair, hi. I just left a message for you a few minutes ago,” Tim said.

  “I was out,” Blair explained.

  “Where?” Tim asked.

  Blair frowned at the phone. She didn’t like having to declare her whereabouts to other people. If this was dating, then she definitely wasn’t cut out for it. “Visiting a friend.”

  “Oh. Well, it’s still early. Want to do something tonight?”

  Less than anything in the world, Blair thought. “How about tomorrow? Could you come over for supper?”

  “You cook?” he asked. She could tell by his tone that he was smiling. She had the sudden vision of him going down the checklist he kept for his daughter’s replacement mother and highlighting Cooks! under Blair’s name.

  “I cook,” Blair said.

  “Great. What time?”

  She gave him a time and listened while he talked for a while. After they hung up, she realized she had neglected to mention Susan. How awkward was it going to be when Tim thought he was showing up for a date with her, only to realize she was trying to set him up with someone else? How did she constantly find herself in these situations with no idea of how to get herself back out?

  She pushed the matter from her mind. Susan was charming and pretty; Tim would naturally gravitate toward her. Blair should find that depressing; instead she was relieved. She would be glad to have this chapter of her life closed. She had tried dating and didn’t like it—the end.

  The next day she cooked and even made dessert. Everything was perfectly in order by the time first Susan and then Tim arrived. Tim looked confused but not necessarily devastated by Susan’s sudden appearance, proving Blair’s point.

  “Tim, this is my friend, Susan,” Blair introduced. Saying the words “my friend” felt odd. How long had it been since she used that phrase? Maybe not since she introduced Tanya to her parents during college.

  Susan always looked nice, but tonight Blair could tell she had put extra effort into her appearance. Tim shot her several appreciative glances, but that was as much as Blair could tell. She had never been good at reading body language, especially when it came to romance.

  “Blair tells me you’re a police officer,” Susan said.

  That sparked a long conversation wherein Tim told them about his job. Susan listened with rapt attention. Blair felt like she was watching a movie as unspoken signals bounced between them. After a while, she gave up trying to eat, set aside her food, rested her chin in her hand, and watched the story unfold. They seemed to be flirting with each other, but they weren’t doing it with words. There were smiles, looks, leans. Blair was fascinated. This is how Jane Goodall must have felt during her first days with the chimpanzees, she thought. The same sort of interactions had been taking place all around her for as long as she had been alive. Up until now, she had ignored it without ever trying to figure out what it meant. Now she was trying, and she still couldn’t figure it out. What were they saying with those looks and smiles? Blair was baffled.

  Toward the end of the meal, Susan got up to use the bathroom. Tim turned his attention to Blair. “I’m confused,” he whispered.

  Join the club, she thought.

  “I thought you invited me here to have supper with you, but you’ve barely said two words and Susan…”

  Is everything I’m not and then some, Blair thought. She decided brutal honesty was the best approach. “I thought you and Susan might hit it off. She’s good with kids, and you seem to have common interests. She’s a nice lady. You should ask her out.”

  He studied her as if he were sifting her wor
ds, looking for hidden meaning. “That’s really okay with you?”

  More than anything in the world. “Yes. It’s more than okay. I would love it,” Blair said.

  “All right,” Tim said. He was giving Blair the look, the one that said he didn’t understand her and thought there was probably something seriously wrong with her. “You’re a nice lady, Blair.”

  “Thank you,” Blair said. Was she supposed to reciprocate and tell him he was a nice man? She didn't want to. Thankfully Susan returned and spared her the awkwardness.

  Supper ended soon after. Blair volunteered to clean up. Tim offered to walk Susan to her car. Blair almost told him that it was a nice neighborhood and Susan would be safe, but she thought maybe the walking was more of an excuse to be together than to actually keep her safe. Susan seemed to be sparkling with repressed excitement as she and Tim left the house together. She turned back to smile and wave at Blair.

  “Thanks,” she mouthed. “I’ll call you.”

  Blair nodded and smiled, feeling an odd mixture of curiosity, relief, and maybe a little sadness as they let themselves out. She turned her attention to the dishes, wishing her window faced the front so she could spy on her friends.

  Sully couldn’t contain his morbid curiosity over the happenings at Miss P’s house. He saw the officer arrive and slammed his water on the counter, sloshing the contents over the rim. But there was another car, too. Was Miss P having a party? His glance fell on her house more often than not through the evening, every time he entered his kitchen, until at last the door opened and two people emerged. He saw the officer and his hand tensed. Was he going to have to witness a goodbye kiss? But the woman with him wasn’t Blair. Who was she and what were they doing together?

  He thought of Blair, sitting in her house, saddened by the officer’s betrayal, and the next thing he knew, he was out of his house and heading toward hers. He had no idea what he was doing or why, only that he felt a strong protective urge and the need to make sure she was okay.