My husband and I have lived at 23 Hedgeapple Lane for eight years, and have two beautiful children together. Our neighbors Sasha and Henry have been there for much longer, their children already grown and gone. I think they're about 19 or 20 years older than us. We've always gotten along well together, Sasha and I have traded recipes or ingredients a few times, and the men have borrowed tools here and there. They were quiet and kept to themselves, the same as us. And they seemed relatively happy, a nice quiet couple.
One day I raced home before the bus came, to get dinner started and do a few chores. As I went out to light the grill, I saw Henry on his back porch, leaning on the railing and staring off into the distance. Henry was of average build and height, with a beautifully kept brown beard and not a single hair on his head. He had a powerfully built chest from years of labor, strong arms, and a kind face. I always thought he was a good looking older man, and have always felt comfortable around him. Today, his face seemed drawn, lines etched into it, his shoulders hunched as though a great weight was settled upon them.
I set down my tongs and the rack of prepared food, grabbed two beers from the fridge in the garage, and cracked one as I walked over to the fence that separated our yards.
"Pretty afternoon, Henry!" I called to him as I lifted the beer up in offer. He blinked, his distant eyes coming into focus on me, and he stood up straighter.
"It is." He agreed, walking over to the fence. He glanced at the can in my hand. "Sasha doesn't really like me to drink..." He trailed off, putting his hands in his pockets.
"Oh c'mon. She won't be home for hours. You look like you need one. Is something on your mind, ole buddy?" I asked, taking a sip of my own as he nodded and finally accept the beer.
"Nothing new." he said cryptically. Henry always was a man of few words. I like Henry. He was quiet, but thoughtful. I usually asked about him, his mother, and his garden. I brought him tea and flowers from my own garden- something we both enjoyed.
But he seemed more reserved and... Defeated, I thought. He seems defeated.
"You know... I know you don't like talking. But if you ever need to. I'm here, and I won't share it with anyone, Henry. You know I'm not a gossip." I said, leaning on the fence.
Suddenly Henry looked at me. Really looked, right into my eyes. I felt my face go a little warm, it was as though he was trying to read my soul.
"Things aren't as they seem. You know?" he finally said. He glanced towards the house.
I didn't really understand exactly what he meant, but I did know about things not being okay at home. Even though we were married and put on the show of the happy couple, my husband and I were hardly more than roommates. I wondered if that was the case for Sasha and Henry. I waited for him to continue, but he stopped and just looked back to the sky.
"I do know..." I said slowly, and took a deep breath. "Jake and I haven't shared a bedroom in years." I said softly. I knew Henry wouldn't tell anyone, and I thought it might help him feel like he could open up to me about whatever was troubling him.
His eyes snapped back to me. "You haven't?"
I shook my head. "Nope. We have separate bedrooms. We don't go on dates, and I don't remember the last time..." I trailed off and took a deep breath. "Things are not as they seem."
Henry's gaze was staring into my very soul now, I was sure of it. It was so intense, and I felt as though I laid bare in front of him.
"Neither have we." he finally said. "She gets so angry, and everything is my fault. She's threatened divorce a few times, and I just don't know what to do. She cleared out our bank account, and lied to me about it. I never thought I'd be starting over at this age."
My chest tightened as his vulnerability. He looked so unbearably sad, and I couldn't imagine anyone being angry at him. He doesn't say enough to be angry at. I didn't know what to say, all I could do was place a hand on top of his on the fence.
