This is a copyrighted original work of fiction. All rights reserved.
All characters featured herein are at least eighteen years of age, even if not expressly stated. Any resemblance between actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Many thanks to editor Tom Graham of Girls_cum_first. He suggested that I extend the story. I did.
*
My neighbor Julie sat on a stool at my kitchen counter making us ham and cheese sandwiches. Topless. I sure as hell hadn't seen that coming.
I live in a country house just outside of town. The five and a half acre lot consists of about one and a half as a nice lawn and garden, the rest woodlands up the mountain behind the house. There is a mountain stream, rivulet really, that comes down partially on our property. It's a big four bedroom house with a nice fireplace and large rooms. I love the property. We've been here twelve years and raised a family here. 'We' being my wife and I. Now it's just me. She left me three and a half months ago.
On the other side of the mountain stream are the Cavanaugh's. Bill died four years ago from Lou Gehrig's -- ALS, at age fifty two. It was horrible to watch Bill disintegrate. It was even worse to watch Julie cope with the inevitable.
The Cavanaugh's have a similar slice of property to mine, but theirs is a big rambling two story, six bedroom home. A very nice home. Their three boys are gone now. Two are in university, one has his own place.
Our kids, a boy and a girl are both away at university too.
Before Bill died and before the ALS got really bad, Cora and I would get together with Bill and Julie and have a glass of wine or two (or nine) and a barbeque or pot luck. That's just the way things work in the country. Your neighbors are your neighbors and you've got to look out after each other. As their youngest boy is about three years older than our eldest, the kids didn't interact much and at first we weren't too close.
Nevertheless eventually the friendship grew even though Bill and I were completely different. He was about a year and half older than me, an executive with a large bank -- VP maybe, and an avid golfer. I refuse to play the wretched game. I would motor around on my ride-on Lawn-Boy, he had a service. I have every conceivable tool in my garage shop, he had people. It seemed to me that Bill spent half his time away, either in New York, Montreal, Washington or overseas.
Bill was the life of the party though. I really liked him. He was a larger than life character, physically big too. You couldn't help but be drawn in to him. It was no wonder that he was so successful at the bank.
Julie and I were more similar. She was an artistic, free spirit type. And I'm...well I'm just nuts. The one thing that Julie and I had in common, we both had spouses that were doing very well, thank you. Cora has a very high profile position with an international pharmaceutical company. She looks after regulatory affairs.
The other thing that Julie and I had in common was an inability to interact with each other without figuratively poking each other in the ribs. We were always playful and sometimes there was a little sexual innuendo thrown in for good measure.
Lou Gehrig's changed all that.
As soon as Bill was diagnosed his joie de vivre was gone. Julie's too. Not only did she have to remain strong and deal with Bill's degeneration, but she also had to deal with three teenage boys who had their own issues coping with their father's disease.
When it was eventually over Julie was, not surprisingly, a changed woman.
Long gone were the parties. Long gone was the close friendship we had. Long gone was Bill.
We tried to comfort Julie as much as we could after Bill was gone. She was busy coping with the kids. Although we would occasionally get together to have a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, the spark was gone. It was just polite neighborly interactions that were left 'can you let the dog out?', 'we're away on holiday can you water the plants?' -- that type of thing. We still had to look after our neighbors. Being out of town, it's simply inconvenient for others to come and look after such trivial matters. That's part of living in the country.
Julie still used a lawn service but did look after the flower beds and a vegetable garden. Basically I didn't know what she did to keep herself busy. Sadly, I just didn't see much of Julie any more, even though she was only a couple of hundred yards away.
I separated from Cora after twenty six years of marriage. Cora moved out, leaving the house to me and the kids. Graciously she still supplemented my income with hers. There was no animosity between us. She definitely loved her kids. I still loved her, but in a different way now.
I got back from town one day laden with groceries to find a voice message from Julie. I called her back.
"I'm finally having the kitchen redone starting tomorrow, do you have room in your freezer for one fairly large bag of frozen things?" Julie asked.
"Sure, no problem," I said, "do you want me to come and get it?"
"No, I'll be right over."
When she came over I asked if she would like a glass of wine. She declined explaining that she is still unpacking the kitchen into the dining room.
Sure enough, bright and early the next morning there were a bunch of trucks in her driveway. I wished I had a new kitchen going in.
At about nine in the morning Julie phoned, "Jim," she said, "this fucking dog will not stop barking at the workmen. Can I bring Lulu over?"
"Sure," I said.
Lulu her spaniel and Gomez my mutt, get along fine.
Julie brought the dog over. She tried to just hand the leash through the kitchen door, but I said, "Come on in, have a cup of coffee."
She pulled off her jacket and sat on a stool at the kitchen counter. She had jeans on and a loose knitted multi-colored sweater. As usual, she looked great.
We sat at the counter sipping coffee as she explained she was getting all new appliances, new cabinets, counters, new floors, ceilings, the whole kit and caboodle -- in four days.
"Cool," I said, "are you thinking of selling the house?" I wished I hadn't ask that question, but it was out.
"No, I love it here. I can't imagine living anywhere else. The kitchen hasn't changed since we moved into the house," she paused to think for a moment, "eighteen years ago. It definitely needs to be updated." There was a bit of sadness to her eyes.
"I wish I could afford to redo mine," I said almost half under my breath.
"Well now I can look forward to cooking dinner for myself in luxury," she said in a voice that betrayed her emotions. She knew Cora had left me and that I too now shared the same fate as her. Living in a big house with a dog as a companion, waiting for the kids to come and visit.
It hadn't even occurred to me to perhaps rekindle the friendship that we once had, or to even pursue it to another level. I knew I could never be half the man Bill was.
Although Julie was about a year and a half older than me she was still a very striking woman. I'd say five eight, thin, shoulder length bleach blonde hair covering grey I'm sure, brown eyes, dark eyebrows, perfect teeth, high cheekbones and a winning smile. Aside from the chiseled lines on the face that middle age brings, she had very few wrinkles, just a few crow's feet around her eyes.
"Julie, you've got a new kitchen happening. You should be happy about that."
"I suppose."
"Hey it's better than a kick in the ass Julie."
"I'm not so sure," she countered, "at at least a kick in the ass can be construed as physical contact."
"Now you're being silly." I said. What a bitter woman she had become. I wondered if I had morphed into a similar grotesque since Cora left.
"I'm sorry," she said, "I'm just being miserable."
"Yeah, you are Julie. And frankly I'm worried about you. When did Bill die, was it four years ago?"
"It'll be four years next month."
"You've got to move on Julie."
She gazed at me.
"And so do I." recovering quickly. "Tell me Julie, what do you do during the day?"
"Oh I keep myself busy, I play bridge, I play tennis and I volunteer at the library. And I still do some of my painting. Although, I've been told it's all dark now."
"That sounds to me like a slow slide into old age. Have you met anyone? Have you even considered building a new life together with somebody?"
"Oh, I've thought about that. I've thought about that a lot."
"And," I paused, "what have you done about it?"
Julie looked down to the floor. "I...I...," she exhaled, "I don't know what to do about it."
"Come on Julie," I said with perhaps a too optimistic tone of voice, "go on-line, go to a bar. Take a singles cruise..."
"I've never dated in my life, other than Bill. I wouldn't even know how to act."
"Come on Julie. You're a perfectly fine, intelligent, good looking woman."
She stared at me.
"I know you've been through a lot," I continued. "Before Bill got diagnosed you were a glorious, vivacious woman. Full of energy, funny, fun."
She continued to stare at me, with no emotion to her face.
"That woman is still inside you."
"That was eight years ago." She said dismissively.
"That's exactly my point Julie," I said to her, "before Bill died, you had to deal with Bill, the kids, the house. I know it was stressful and you didn't have a choice." I paused for a moment then added, "I suppose you could have simply run away from it all, but you didn't Julie. You did the right thing. What a loving wife and what a loving parent would do. I have a lot of respect for how you dealt with it. And I know Cora feels the same way too."
Why did I bring her up? Julie continued to stare at me blankly. I didn't know if I was being too harsh, or too intrusive or just plain judgmental. Maybe I was way out of line.
I continued, "When Bill passed away, it was sad..."
"It was a relief," she cut me off.
"To a degree only Julie. You lost your husband. You still had to go through a grieving process. Maybe you still are, or maybe you haven't yet."
She sighed and took a sip of her coffee.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'd just like to see the old Julie back."
A tear ran down her cheek.
"I'm sorry Julie, I didn't mean to upset you, please forgive me." Now I felt bad. Clearly I was stirring things up that perhaps should have been left alone.
She wiped the tear from her cheek, "No, you're right Jim. Even the kids have been bugging me." She stared into her coffee cup. Another tear rolled down her cheek. "Is it that obvious Jim? Am I just a sad, miserable, old woman?"
"Hell no!" My voice perked up. "You're a beautiful, kind, intelligent, woman."
She grinned at me dismissively. As if I was supposed to say that to make her feel better.
"I'm dead serious Julie, and quite frankly I'm worried about myself too."
Her eyes looked up to me, wondering where I was going with that last statement.
"I'm not joining no frikkin' bridge club, I'm not volunteering for squat..."
"Is Cora ever coming back?" She cut me off.
"No," I said with some finality to the word. I paused for a moment before I continued my thought, "I'm not going to fall into a depression and become a miserable old man."
"Like your miserable old woman neighbor," she stated, rather than asked.
"Sorry," I said staring into her eyes.
