‘When’s your birthday?’
‘Last Saturday.’
‘If I’d have known, I would have put candles in your ice cream.’
‘Thank you, but the number of candles would have instantly reduced this to a milkshake, and I prefer to enjoy my ice cream in a more solid state.’
‘Was it a happy one?’
Will went for a small slice of pity. ‘Let me say, for the first time ever, I actually felt sort of, kind of, slightly old, but only for about fifteen minutes.’
‘How old are you, William, forty-five, forty-six?’
‘Fifty-six.’
‘You look younger.’
‘Bless you. I owe my youthful appearance to a few good inherited genes, and a life spent being unable to worship the sun. How old are you, if I may ask?’
‘Let’s just say I have about ten years less experience than you.’
‘I thought you had to be about twenty-seven.’
‘Your pants are on fire, William.’
Will waggled his eyebrows. ‘You know, they knocked down the Odeon Classic in eighty-nine. That makes me feel practically Stone Aged.’
She licked the back of her spoon. ‘Sorry. Tell me something. When you went to the Odeon in the seventies, did you wear one of those John Travolta Saturday Night Fever suits on your dates?’
He laughed, the spoon he’d just tucked into his mouth jiggled and bobbed.
‘You did, didn’t you?’
He pulled out the spoon. ‘I was seventeen, and it was the height of fashion at the time,’ he said, his laughter and the glob of frozen strawberry making his voice thick.
‘And I bet you thought you looked awesome.’
‘I can make any suit look good.’ Chuckling, he scooped more ice cream onto the spoon, and asked, ‘Would you like to go sailing sometime?’
‘Did you just ask me to go sailing?’
‘Sure. My friend Quincy has a sloop.’ Will put his empty parfait dish on the counter. ‘He wants to take it out once more before he has it,’ he chuckled, ‘dry-docked and scraped for old barnacles. He told me to ask someone, so I’m asking you.’
Caroline rinsed the strawberry milkiness from her fingers. Her mind flicked through a series of film scenes aboard sailboats. She tossed aside images of Nicole Kidman in the thriller Dead Calm and settled on a scene from Sabrina, where Audrey Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart listened to a phonograph of ‘Yes, We have No Bananas.’ That was a nice presentation of sailing. She nodded. ‘I’ve never been on a sailboat before. I guess it could be fun. When?’
‘That I don’t know yet. May I please have a napkin?’
She tore a paper towel from a roll and handed it to him. ‘Did you really like going to the Odeon Cinema?’
‘If I wasn’t a lawyer I would have been a film historian. I love movies. I love television, I love music,’ Will wiped his fingers, ‘and I better finish this dog door because Biker Build-off is on in twenty minutes and I never miss it. Have you ever seen it?’
‘No.’
‘These guys design custom-made motorcycles. It’s fascinating stuff. Would you like to watch it with me?’ He dabbed mouth.
‘Motorcycles? No thank you, but would I have to bribe you with ice cream again if I asked you to watch an old movie with me Friday night?’
‘I’m open to an ice cream bribe, but I’m partial to popcorn too, unless it’s burned.’
She crossed her arms, brow creasing. ‘I don’t know if I want to share my popcorn if I have to pay for your companionship with junk food. The again, I’m not the one who’ll be prostituting myself for ice cream. Could you get disbarred for that?’
‘Let me just say this ice cream gigolo’s favorite flavor is mint-chocolate chip,’ he said, and dunked the crumpled napkin in the sink.
***
The following morning, when she let Batman out, William was on other side of the vine-covered trellis. They began to chat. Caroline liked that. She’d liked that his friendship was easy, that he was easygoing. She liked the unremarkable way they slipped into conversation, the mundane things they talked about, but mostly she liked that her new neighbor made her feel normal. Starting over with an average life, grabbing life by the balls wasn’t so hard.
Making new friends wasn’t so hard either. By the time William had watered his ivy and all his potted plants, she decided it was silly to talk with a partition between them and invited him over for coffee.
She asked him over the next morning too, and the morning after that as well, until morning coffee at her place became a pre-work occurrence, and she liked the routine. No, she loved the routine, and two weeks after morning coffee became routine, it expanded to a few evenings of ice cream, chatting and watching the hulking TV at William’s, the dog settled on the edge of a Turkish rug, eyeing them with his head on his paws, primed to lick out milky bowls the pair had finished.
Somehow, they always wound up in the same positions; Batman on the rug, Caroline curled up in the short corner of the wide L-shaped couch, her feet tucked beneath her, William smack in the middle, stretched out, his legs resting on the long side. They watched I Love Lucy, Lethal Weapon, Laura, The Big Sleep, Notorious, and Chinatown. Each night Will drifted off to sleep on the couch, and each night Caroline tiptoed home with the dog.
On the third week of ice cream, she handed William a freezing carton of mint-chocolate chip. ‘I remembered you said you liked this kind,’ she said.
‘That’s very thoughtful. Thank you.’
‘You do realize I’ll probably eat half the tub, don’t you?’ she said, following him to his kitchen.
‘Ha! I know you well enough already. You’ll have a toddler-sized scoop—and I’ll eat half the tub, which mean I’ll swim six times this week instead of five.’ He put the ice cream in the freezer.
‘You swim?’
‘I run too. Why?’
Caroline made a face. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Sure.’
‘Well, it’s … does … this is stupid … okay,’ she huffed, ‘does swimming … does it … okay …’
He laughed. ‘Just ask.’
‘Right. Ask. Does chlorine in the swimming pool—’
‘Bleach my skin?’
Her face flushed. Caroline figured the tips of her ears were probably aglow too.
‘No, not any more than it bleaches your skin.’ he said. ‘But it turns my hair yellow, makes my trunks fade, and dries out my eyes and skin, which is why I swim in a saltwater pool. And I liked that you asked. I like that you’re curious enough to want to know. It’s not a stupid question.’
She rubbed the back of her neck. ‘Yeah. It was a dumb question, one I didn’t exactly think through, but I didn’t want to make an assumption. Chlorine makes my hair kind go kind of green.’
‘I like that you asked,’ he said again, smiling softly. ‘Really.’
‘Is my face still red?
‘A little.’ He opened a cupboard and took out two bowls, a deep one and one slightly larger than an espresso cup. ‘It’s cute. You look like a little girl, which corresponds nicely with size of the ice cream scoop you’re going to have.’
She stuck out her tongue. ‘I’m so hungry. I could eat that whole carton.’
‘And you’d probably puke after.’
‘Did I ever tell you Bonnie Chesterman asked me if I make myself throw up?’
‘She asked me if I ever saw you throw up.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘No.’
She laughed. Will liked making her laugh because the more she giggled, the more he was convinced she sounded like Betty Rubble.
Caroline stopped giggling and looked him up and down, her mouth flattened into a serious line, although the solemn look didn’t reach her eyes. ‘William, do you ever not wear a suit? Isn’t it uncomfortable to always be tucked in and neat?’
He glanced down at himself. ‘I’m not wearing my jacket, am I?’
‘That’s because you know you’d rumple i
t when you stretch out to watch TV.’
‘I’m comfortable.’
‘Do you have casual clothes, jeans, t-shirts?’
‘Yes, of course. Jeans, leathers, t-shirts, polo shirts, chinos, flat fronts, moleskins, I’ve got everything.’
‘Then why are you always in a suit?’
‘I’m as comfortable in these clothes as I am my own skin, and I like to look good. I do look good, don’t I?’
Head shaking, Caroline touched the perfect knot of his tie and slid her fingers down the silk. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Not a hair is out of place. I’d love to mess you up, William.’
What she did and what she said thrilled Will to the core, even if how she meant it wasn’t how his body took it. She loved the quality of the silk, the cut of his suit; the rational part of his brain knew that, but the primitive part sent out a buzz that took a minute or two to fade.
The next evening, the routine changed. Will showed up at her place with a packet of microwave popcorn and a bottle of Coke. He’d left his jacket at home, but took care to loosen his tie before he knocked. He started laughing when Caroline opened her door. She wore a pair of daisy-dotted, light green flannel pajamas and thick white socks. She looked homey, welcoming.
‘I see you’ve truly embraced casual-dress Friday, William.’
‘You noticed. I’m so pleased,’ he said. ‘And you’re having pajama party. Cool! I brought popcorn, but really should slip out of these casual clothes and into my—’
‘Birthday suit. That’s so funny. Hang on a second while I fake laugh. Aha-aha-aha.’
‘Now why would you think I was going to say anything about a birthday suit?’
‘Weren’t you?’
‘Well, yes, but my delivery would have been so much better than yours.’ He crossed the threshold, grinning as he waved the popcorn. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said with regard to prostituting myself and getting disbarred, so I figured I’d better bring my own, especially since you said you weren’t too sure about sharing with me.’
Caroline laughed like Betty Rubble and took the cola and popcorn from his hands. Batman ran in and flopped over on his back at Will’s feet.
‘Holy missing gonads, Batman!’ Will moaned. ‘What have you done to your dog, Caroline?’ He crouched and gave the dog a pat on the belly. ‘You poor little man. You don’t know what you’re missing, do you?’
Batman flipped over on all fours and wiggled his backside.
Caroline sighed. ‘I’d wiggle like Marilyn Monroe too if somebody rubbed my feet. Be glad you don’t spend the day running around in heels.’
‘Hey, if Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis pulled it off in Some Like It Hot, maybe I could too.’ Will rose. Caroline started down the hall for the kitchen and he followed. ‘You watched it the other night, didn’t you?’
‘No. Could you please get some glasses? They’re in the top cupboard, the one to the right of the sink. When was Some Like It Hot on?’
‘Last Wednesday, on Turner Classic Movies, after Gilda.’
‘Gilda.’ Caroline shook her head, placed the unfolded bag of popcorn in the microwave, and pressed the start pad. ‘I tried watching Gilda a while back, but decided I’d be better off trying to find clean underwear than dancing around and flipping my hair like Rita Hayworth does in that strapless black dress she wears in the movie. That’s how I burned my popcorn that day I thought you were the deliveryman. I was pretending to be Rita Hayworth.’
Will looked her up and down. She may not have been as voluptuous as Rita, but Caroline most assuredly had a Class-A figure. She caught the look on his face and, thankfully, misinterpreted his appreciation for dismay.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘You won’t have to put up with anything like that for tonight’s feature.’
Will set the glasses on the counter and filled them with soft drink. ‘What are we watching this evening?’
‘I’ve decided to move from Rita Hayworth to the Barbara Stanwyck and Gary Cooper comedy Ball Of Fire. I love Barbara Stanwyck, but if you don’t like that one I also have Miss. Barbara in No Man of Her Own. Did you ever see the remake, Mrs. Winterbourne, with Ricki Lake, Shirley MacLaine, and Brendan Fraser?’
‘No.’
‘It was done as a cute comedy. It lacks the dark aspect of the first.’
‘Your uncle worked with Barbara Stanwyck on The Big Valley. Did you know that?’
She cocked her head to one side. ‘Who do you think introduced me to her films?’
‘Okay. How about we watch both Stanwyck movies then?’
‘We might need another bag of popcorn.’
‘Why do I get the impression you live on popcorn?’
‘What makes you think that?’
He cocked his head. ‘The night we ate Indian here was the one time I didn’t smell popcorn when I came up the stairs. Do you have microwaveable snack food for dinner on a nightly basis?’
She shrugged. ‘I watch a lot of movies. Popcorn goes with movies. I think it’s more a habit than anything else. I have to have that bag sitting beside me with the lights off and movie on.’
‘So it is your evening meal?’
The microwave peep-peeped. She opened the door, pulled out the steaming red paper bag, and smiled. ‘Dinner is served!’
***
It was very late. The computer screen in front of Alex was the only light source that lit the tiny back-room office beside the walk-in refrigerator. He’d started checking next week’s restaurant orders, but he’d come across something he’d forgotten about.
They’d been stored on the computer, mistakenly filed in a folder titled Special Events. Instead of a spreadsheet itemizing the number of strawberry pies the Café Rushmore had needed for a Labor Day Function, he found digital photos of Drew and Caroline. There were probably forty photos of them both, and Alex looked at them all.
The first photo in the little slideshow had Caroline curled around Drew on a towel at the beach. In the next she was holding a blue shirt up to his wide, blue eyes. He became fixated upon one. It was of the three of them. They sat on a large black rock shaped like an upturned palm. Drew was in the middle. They had their arms around him.
Alex stared at the photo, not moving for fifteen minutes.
He touched the screen, his fingers outlined the contours of Drew’s head before he began to use the computer’s photo imaging program to enlarge the left section of the photo where Caroline sat smiling. He erased Drew, then himself, and cropped the image until all that was left was Caroline’s head and neck.
Over and over, he traced the shape of her mouth, leaving a circle of natural oil from his fingertips on the screen. Finally, he blew up this picture until her face filled the screen in a blurry array of distorted colored squares. Then he saved the resized and retouched picture, and filled the screen with the image. When he squinted he could make out it was her. He could see her giant iris, the burst of colors around the pupil, the gold, green, and tiny bit of blue that matched Drew’s eyes.
Alex centered on her lips until he began to think about all the different activities her mouth, and his, had engaged in together. He remembered the time after Drew had been fed, when they’d gone to the narrow laundry on the other side of the old house they’d lived in. As he touched her, Caroline had bitten into his shoulder to stop from crying out. That memory bled into another, and another, and another.
She knelt over him on the short loveseat in the living room, her fingers frantic in his hair, her mouth as full and lush as the image of on the screen. His hand slipped beneath the practical black and white check of his flour-dusted and blackberry juice soiled chef’s pants, and Caroline stroked him, his gaze fixed on her mouth. The taste of her was nearly in his mind. It was almost there. That hot, damp, slightly salty flavor mixed with soap, her perspiration and perfume melted together with the sensation of her still slightly rounded belly beneath his hands, her fingers knotted in his hair, his face buried deeply into her center.
Chapter 5
Over the next two weeks, Will helped his new neighbor hang artwork on the walls of her apartment, fixed the leaky toilet in one of her bathrooms, and changed the washers on her dripping kitchen faucet. He acted as a handyman, played with her dog, and Caroline repaid him with dinner, ice cream, and desserts like cherry cobbler.
He liked that they’d started trading off, an evening at her house, another at his. He began to appreciate what vegetarian cooking did for his waistline, that she washed the dishes, even when he cooked, that she didn’t mind watching The Antiques Roadshow, and was always up for a movie, especially an old one.
Despite all the affable things about her, despite the pleasant time they had together, despite how much he liked that she called him William, he’d begun to think they might be spending too much time together. There were times he caught the scent of verbena, or she’d bump against him, and that tug of attraction made itself known, and he heard the voice of the Robot from Lost in Space shouting, ‘Warning! Warning Will Murphy!’
Will had no intention to act on anything; he was merely being lazy and embracing his comfortable life, but he didn’t want to give her the idea that he had ideas. The morning coffee was fine; nice and neighborly, but the nights … it was probably a good idea to pare them back and avoid any sort of confusion or complication between friends, and more importantly, neighbors.
The evening he decided would be their last together for a while revealed she’d mulled over something similar. Caroline handed him a parfait dish of fudge-brownie ice cream and said, ‘Are you sure you want to sit here and watch Rebecca with me tonight?’ she said. ‘Wouldn’t you rather be out of the house and out with a friend on a Saturday night than with your introverted next-door neighbor?
‘I am out of my house and out with a friend.’ He chiseled a chunk of brownie from the ice cream and spooned it into his mouth.
Next To You Page 9
