Fire Escape Neighbor

Fire Escape Neighbor

Spring was brutally hot and sticky. To make matters worse, the air conditioning in my apartment building wasn't working. And building management didn't care. Their only efforts toward repair were lip service. My fourth-floor apartment sweltered day after day. Sleep was elusive and fitful.

On an early Friday evening, after going home to shower and change, I was seated in Swan's, a restaurant near home, at a table for two nursing a beer while I looked over the menu. Pretending to take my time to decide what to eat so I could luxuriate in air-conditioned bliss. The place was busy but not crushed. No one wanted to suffer walking anywhere on still blistering hot sidewalks if they didn't have to. The staff wasn't pressuring me.

A woman I didn't know approached my table. Dressed casually in a loose-fitting, sleeveless yellow blouse, khaki cargo capris pants, and running shoes with no socks, it was obvious she wasn't restaurant staff. "I think we live in the same building," she said. "Seven-sixty-three Chesnutt?"

It was where I lived. I didn't remember ever seeing her, but I didn't know everyone in the building, "Are you new to the building?" I asked.

"Since early April. I got settled in just in time for the hot weather to arrive and the air conditioning to go on the fritz."

"Lucky you. Something I can do for you?"

"Do you mind if I join you? There are seats at the bar and tables available, but I hate eating alone. Plus, I wouldn't mind making some friends in the building. The neighbors on my floor are a bit stand-offish."

I took a second to look at her. I guessed she was about my age. She was very attractive and had a friendly smile. Dishwater blonde hair, pulled into a tight ponytail, disappeared below her shoulders. Tall. About five-nine. Sapphire blue eyes.

I gestured at the seat across from me. I probably would have offered the seat to almost anyone from the building that asked to join me. I hadn't stopped interacting with people. I just hadn't been seeking anyone to keep me company. When she put her hands on the table, I saw she wore several rings, none a wedding band or engagement ring. "Which apartment are you in?"

"Five-ten. You?"

I laughed softly. "Four-oh-eight. I'm almost under you."

Her eyes darted to my left hand and my wedding band when I lifted my beer to take a drink. "You're married. Having dinner without your wife tonight?"

"Widowed," I responded.

"Recent enough that you're still wearing your wedding band," she said contritely. "I'm sorry."

"Nineteen months, two weeks, three days. Not that I'm counting." I knew the date of my wife's death. But not the actual count to the day. I'm not sure why I answered that way.

"Would you like me to sit elsewhere?"

"I'd have told you to go away." I tried not to sound unfriendly. I think I succeeded. She didn't seem to take offence.

She extended her hand, "Lydia Beck. Liddie," she smiled.

I shook it. Her hand was soft and warm. Her grip firm and confident. "Neil Markham. Everyone calls me Neil, mostly. Sometimes stuff that's a bit less complimentary," I deadpanned.

She laughed. "Anything I should be concerned about?"

I grinned. "Nah. I'm a plant engineer. I also have production responsibilities in a thermoplastic molding shop. It's hot there all the time. Even when it's cold outside. You can't imagine some of the names I'm called in this weather. The crew in the shop doesn't worry about whether I hear what they're saying. I know they're just venting about the working conditions. We take care of them. Lots of water, electrolyte drinks, and frequent breaks away from the ovens."

"You a hard-ass boss?"

"I don't think so. I try to be fair and respectful. Ask rather than order. Say thank you when a task or job is complete. Praise when it's deserved. I tell them stuff they don't like sometimes. Mandatory overtime, for example. And, of course, not everyone meets expectations, so I must deal with that. Comes with the territory. They understand that. Most like and respect me. Everyone left the shop for a couple hours on the day of my wife's services. I caught hell from the production manager when I returned to work because it interrupted production. She told me to make an example of one or two. I told her I'd quit if she insisted that I discipline someone. And I'd quit if she took it upon herself to mete out some kind of punishment."

"How'd that work out?"

"I still have a job and so do all my people. No one got written up." I took a moment to drink. "What do you do for fun and profit, Ms. Beck?"

"Liddie, please. I'm marketing manager for a small regional media company. It owns a couple of small-market cable TV stations, four radio stations highly rated in their markets. All within a couple hours' drive. Several on-line subscription content sites, and a handful of those free print publications that you see at supermarkets and diners."

Maybe she's a little older than she appeared, I thought. "Sounds exciting," I chided gently.

"I like it most of the time. I'm the new gal in charge. Making changes. Annoying subordinates that don't want to change. So, some days I'd rather be getting a root canal," she grinned. She shifted gears. "Is spring like this here all the time?"

"Spring? No. Summer can get unbearable, but it never starts this early. Most years summer has a few days of unbearable heat and humidity followed by some rainy spells or otherwise tolerable weather. I can't remember an April and early May this hot."

"Have you decided what to order?"

"I have."

"Mind if I look at your menu so I can order when the server returns?" I slid the menu to her. "What's good?" she asked.

"Everything. Order something that strikes your fancy. I doubt you'll be disappointed."

"What are you having?"

"The blackened mahi-mahi sandwich platter. I've had it before. It's popular. They always have fresh fish. It's mildly spicy with a peach-mango salsa on it. Lettuce and tomato on the side. Comes with crispy dirty fries and coleslaw. The slaw is excellent. Made in-house. Has crushed pineapple in it."

A young woman came by a few minutes later while Liddie was still looking at the menu. "Are you ready to order?"

"I'm almost ready," Liddie said. "You go first, Neil."

"I'll have the blackened mahi-mahi sandwich platter. And another beer, please."

When the server turned to her, Liddie said, "I'll have the same but with a glass of chardonnay." The girl rattled off three chardonnays served by the glass. "What's the house chardonnay?"

"Our house wines are Rodney Strong."

A pricey but good wine, I thought.

"I'll have the house chardonnay, please."

"What should we talk about now?" I asked.

"Any idea where a single gal can meet a nice guy?" Liddie asked lightheartedly.

"I wouldn't know. I've never wanted to meet a nice guy," I deadpanned.

"You prefer bad boys?" Liddie rejoined, wearing a straight face. She was quick.

"Okay, I deserved that," I laughed. "I haven't done the dating thing for a long time, so I really don't know. I met my wife at the state university branch here. We were together for two years in school, got married a year after we graduated. We were married three great years before she got sick. One so-so year and ten very difficult months." I changed the subject to talk about her. I didn't want to dwell on my late wife.

I enjoyed bantering with Liddie as we waited for our meals. She was smart. Probably smarter than me. Or at least a different kind of smart. She had a quick, sharp wit, and a sense of humor about herself. She took as good as she gave. By the time our food came, I liked her. A lot. And felt guilty about it. We talked very little while we ate. The way Liddie attacked her sandwich after her first bite told me she liked it. Her coleslaw disappeared almost as quickly as the sandwich.

"I don't want to go back to my apartment," she said as she nibbled at a fry after she finished her sandwich and coleslaw. "The fans in my living room and bedroom just don't cut it."

"I know what you mean." I looked around. "I'd like to stay here where it's nice and cool, but I can't eat or drink enough to tie up the table. Besides, it looks like they have a crowd in the bar waiting for tables, now."

Our server arrived just then. "Can I get anything else for you?"

I didn't want dessert. "Just the check," I said after Liddie said "No, thank you."

She took a pad out of her pocket, did some quick scribbling on it, tore off the check, and set it on the table. "Pay at the register, please," she said. "Thank you and have a good night," she added before she wheeled around and hustled off.

Liddie grabbed the check before I could get it, "My treat," she said.

"Uh-uh. Give it to me. We at least split it."

"You can get it next time," she said.

"There's going to be a next time?"

"Any reason there shouldn't be?"

I couldn't come up with anything that wouldn't make me sound like a misanthrope. Even though I enjoyed Liddie's company, I couldn't shake an underlying sense of guilt. Like I was cheating on my wife. I knew it was stupid. Cheryl was gone. But the feeling was real enough. "I'm leaving the tip," I said.

"Okay," she conceded.

"How much?" I asked, then quickly added, "Never mind, I can figure it out." I dropped some bills on the table that I was sure was a generous gratuity.

I waited off to the side while Liddie paid the check, getting a disapproving glance from the woman at the register. She'd only ever seen me there alone. Once Liddie paid, we went outside together. The sun was low enough that the street was finally shaded but heat that collected all day still radiated from the sidewalk.

"What now?" Liddie asked. "My apartment is sweltering."

"Mine, too."

Liddie locked her arm in mine. "I've got an idea. Trust me?"

"I don't know. That's asking a lot. You seem like a dangerous character."

"I promise you'll get home safely."

"Not that pleasant a prospect, but okay."

"Alright then, this way."

She tugged me in the opposite direction from our building, her arm locked in mine. I didn't feel she was being clingy. Just assertive. It still made me a little uneasy. An underlying guilt roiled my stomach a bit. We didn't walk far, only a couple blocks. She stopped in front of a movie theater I'd walked by many times but had never been in.

"It'll be nice and cool here," she said.

I felt nervous though there was no reason to be. We weren't going to take seats in the rear and make out like a couple of high school kids. But I hadn't gone to a movie theater in years. The last time, while still in high school, I went to see a

Star Wars

triple feature with Jenny Garten, a fellow

Star Wars

nut. Jenny and I weren't dating. We were friends that grew up together. She was the girl that lived across the street. We met when we were both five. We watched the movies, ate popcorn drowned in butter, and drank sodas. I never went to see a movie with my wife. She didn't like going to the movies. Said she could never stay awake. She often fell asleep if we watched a movie at home.

Liddie tugged my arm again and led me to one of the revolving brass doors. She let go of my arm and gently pushed me into one of the openings, then stepped into the one behind me. Once inside, she took my arm again and led me to the box office.

"This one's on you," she said with a grin, then added, "We'll consider it even."

I took my wallet out. "What do you want to see?"

"I don't care." She declared as she looked at show times. "That one starts in a few minutes. Let's see that."

I bought our tickets. Liddie pulled me toward the snack counter after an attendant took our tickets. After waiting for a few people in front of us to make purchases, she told the kid behind the counter, "A small popcorn," then looked at me with a grin.

I paid the kid and pocketed my change, ignoring the in-your-face tip jar. Taking my money, making change, and handing me a purchase doesn't get a tip.

Coming attractions had already started when we found seats. The difference in temperature from outside made it feel downright frigid. At first, the chill was a shock. I almost wished I was wearing pants and a long sleeve shirt, maybe even a light jacket. It soon felt like heaven. We settled in to watch the movie. I don't remember anything after the introductory scene. I didn't even make it to the opening credits. Once I acclimated to the temperature, I fell asleep. The theater was nearly empty when a kid in a red usher's jacket woke me and told me the movie was over. We had to leave. Apparently, Liddie fell asleep, too. Her head was against my shoulder, her hands in her lap. She spilled half the popcorn.

It rained while we were in the theater. There were puddles in the street. The fine mist that greeted us was exhilarating. We both wore big smiles as we walked home. Liddie didn't hold my arm on the way.

When the elevator stopped at my floor, Liddie said, "Goodnight, Mr. Markham."

"Goodnight, Ms. Beck."

We didn't exchange a hug or a kiss. We were just two new acquaintances escaping the heat together. But we shared a smile as the elevator door closed between us.

The heat and humidity didn't let up. By early June, the building was beginning its third month without air conditioning. Everyone was fed up with it. An attorney living on the second floor organized a tenant's meeting at a nearby Elks Hall. It looked like nearly everyone from the building attended. By the time the meeting was over, a rent strike had been agreed to. Our next month's rent was to be redirected to an escrow account the attorney would set up the next day. All future rent would be escrowed until full building services were restored.

Despite being notified of the rent strike, building management didn't believe we'd follow through. The shock of receiving no rent got their attention, though. They blew a fuse on the first of July. Eviction was threatened if rent wasn't paid immediately. The attorney told us to expect as much but it was a hollow threat. Eviction took months to work through the courts, during which evictees paid no rent. Plus, the landlord would rack up legal expenses. The landlord's contract breach wouldn't garner any sympathy in court. It would be a much more costly affair than making repairs.

The attorney responded, copying everyone via email, by citing language specifying building services in the lease agreements. Services that included HVAC. He also reiterated that rent was being held in escrow and would be paid once contracted services were restored. After the landlord consulted their counsel, they folded. Inside of a week, a contractor was on the roof with a crane in the alley, replacing the chillers.

Three days later, my apartment was comfortable when I got home from work. I showered and sat on my couch with my eyes closed, wearing only a pair of gym shorts. A few weeks later, a letter and a check were in my mailbox. The attorney negotiated a nice rebate on the previous two months' rent.

At the end of August, a condo conversion was announced. I used a chunk of Cheryl's life insurance proceeds to buy my apartment. The motivation to avoid repairing the air conditioning became obvious. The building owner hoped to pass the repair costs on to the inevitable condo association.

Liddie and I acknowledged each other from across the room at the tenant's meetings but hadn't talked those evenings. After our dinner and movie together, I saw her in the building occasionally. We greeted each other at the mailbox. Shared an elevator sometimes. I ran into her at the supermarket twice. She always offered a friendly greeting and usually engaged me in a brief conversation. Though we knew which apartments we occupied, we hadn't exchanged phone numbers or visited each other.

I maintained the routine I fell into after Cheryl passed away. Work, home, work, home, phone calls with my parents, sister, and brothers. The occasional call to Cheryl's parents was always wrenching for obvious reasons. And others apparent not so obvious. I attended a family birthday party for my niece at my older brother's place across town. I maintained my physical conditioning, but the bulk of my free time was spent in solitude at home.

I shed my sweaty work clothes when I got home one Saturday and changed into a tee shirt and loose-fitting jersey shorts. I was in my kitchen deciding what to have for dinner, leaning toward a chef salad, when a tapping at the kitchen window got my attention. Liddie was on my fire escape. Smiling at me. I opened the window.

"Hey," I said. "How've you been?"

"Great! How about you, Neil?" she asked as she stepped through the window.

I barely heard her. I was distracted by what I was looking at. Liddie was wearing the same yellow blouse she wore the night she approached me in Swan's. When she ducked down to step through the window, I got two views into her blouse. One through the armhole, the second down the front of her blouse. She wasn't wearing a bra. I also got a good look at her Lycra-clad backside as she twisted through the opening. When she stood up, I forced myself to suppress a gasp. I watched her nipples grow erect in the cool air of my apartment and poke against her shirt. I was living as a near recluse, but I was still a healthy male with all the urges that came with that. I felt my body beginning to respond to what I saw.

Liddie repeated her query, "You doing okay, Neil?"

I snapped out of my brief trance. "I'm fine, Liddie. What's up? Why did you take the fire escape?"

She grinned widely. "I wasn't entirely sure you'd answer if I knocked on your door. I knew you were home. I saw you get on the elevator. What are you doing tonight?"

For some people, I might not have answered the door. I would have opened it for Liddie. "The usual. I'll do some reading. Maybe watch some TV but probably not. Go to bed early so I can get up and go to work in the morning."

"You have to work on Sunday?"

I'd lost track of the days. We were busy at work. Working Saturdays to meet production demand. "Oh. No. I forgot it was Saturday. I had to work today. The days run together. You know how it is."

"Why don't you come up to my place? I'm having some people in. Mostly couples. Some from the building. I could use a handsome guy by my side. So, I'm not the odd gal out."

"I don't know, Liddie. I'm not much of a party guy these days."

"C'mon. It won't be so bad. You can eat some of the overpriced food the caterer is delivering. Have a beer or two. Something stronger if you like. I won't ask you to spend the night. I won't try to fix you up with anyone." I saw her eyes dart downward briefly as she grinned. "Though it looks like a little affection might do you a world of good."

I looked down. I wasn't fully erect, but I was headed there. I began to stammer out an apology. "I-I-I'm sorry. I-I-I-I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay, Neil. It's my fault. I didn't consider how I was dressed before I came down. I'll forget about it if you come up for a while." She grinned again. "Besides, it's nice to know I can have that effect if I want to. So, I'll see you upstairs?"

I gave in. "Okay. I'm come up for a while. No promises about how long I stay, though."

"Fair enough. Dress casual. I'm wearing a blouse, shorts, and sandals." Liddie said. "I'll wear a bra, too. Don't want to arouse you unnecessarily," she teased. "Everyone has been told seven. Why don't you come up a few minutes earlier?"

"Okay," I agreed, still a little reluctant. Then I grinned. "Want me to take the fire escape, too?"

"Why not? It's the shortest route. I'll leave the window cracked so you can let yourself in. I've got to get in the shower and change before the caterer arrives. See you in a bit." She turned to climb back through the window. I got an even better look at her butt.