Tabitha wandered the neighborhood block party with no real motivation. She smacked her lips with the tang of the chicken she'd just eaten. The beer in her hand was still cold though the hot afternoon was pricking at it. Sweat rolled down her neck and into the tight white supergirl tee she had over a black sports bra. Her snug shorts were basically painted on to her fine ass.
She felt eyes on her as she moved through the sparse crowd. She'd been gone for a few years now at college, and the time had been kind. It was nice to be noticed, and she new the people in this crowd would stay polite unless one of the dad's friends had a little too much to drink. Luckily there were plenty of mom's around to keep them in line.
Tabitha saw her own mother, Sarah, leading a gaggle of hens. She strode over to them.
"Hi mom! How's things in the neighborhood?"
"Oh, Tabitha. I wasn't sure you were going to make it. Ladies you know my youngest. Tiff we were just about to get to a bit of gossip? Still want to stick around?"
"Oh hell yeah. What have I missed?"
For the next few minutes Tabitha basked in the warm glow of the myriad of ins and outs. Who was sleeping with who. Whose wife knew and whose was still in the dark. Even better were the swaps. Her little neighborhood had always been close, but it hadn't been until she was in high school that she knew just how close everyone got. Her mother was the one that usually made sure that most things stayed in private where it needed to, and she spread the rest around to whomever was willing to listen.
In the midst of regaling them with the exploits of the nanny across the street, she pulled up short and gave a shy little point across the street where a group of men were all standing around a keg rather obviously doing their best not to say anything to each other. The awkwardness was centered around one man in particular.
"Oh, it's Mr. Smithson. That poor man. They just moved into the neighborhood not six months ago. Never really got...introduced to everyone. And of course his wife, well we hardly ever saw her at all. I spoke to her a few times. Wonderfully kind woman. So kind...such a shame. Fuck cancer, ya know?"
All the women in the little huddle sighed and, Tabitha noticed, a few of those sighs were more longing then condolences. Her mother chief among them.
Mr. Smithson, for his part, seemed to be oblivious to the attention he was drawing. A full beard around a thick chin sat under a neat hair cut. He was a sturdy looking man with a noticeable gut and thick arms. There was a bandage half covered by the black tee he was wearing above a set of relaxed fit jeans. Tabitha chuckled.
"Mom, really. He's not so impressive. Isn't he kind of fat."
Shocked gasps tittered around the little group.
"Honestly, Tabitha. Haven't you found a real man at that college of yours? One of these days you'll have to put the thin little boy toys you pick up aside and find some real meat to keep at home."
"Mom!"
"I mean honestly. What do you think your father looked like when I decided to marry him? Like some GQ model all flat abs and hard muscle?" She fanned herself at the image she'd created. "I mean, certainly I'd had my fill. But when you want to settle down, the vanity that kind of man-child requires is absolutely tiring. But a well put together fella like that? Well, he just makes things easy."
Something caught Mr. Smithson's attention and he looked over to Tabitha and the group. Every eye in the gaggle was looking somewhere else except for Tabitha and her mother who both sprouted identical smiles.
Sarah raised a hand to him, "Hi, Dan. So nice to see you! Glad you came out."
He trotted over after gesturing a goodbye to the men he'd been standing around with.
"Hi. Mrs. Henderson. Ladies."
"Hi, Dan." The ladies somehow managed it in unison.
Tabitha stuck out her hand. "Hi. I'm Tabitha Henderson." He took it in a sure grip.
"Yeah. I can see the resemblance. Nice to meet you."
In that moment, she was surprised how absolutely certain she was that this man was not attracted to her. His eyes didn't slide down her body, over her firm tits under her tight shirt. He wasn't interested in the tight stomach exposed by the end of her supergirl tee. She knew that if she turned around he'd have no idea just how tight her little shorts were clinging to her well toned ass. It was...well, she hated it.
Mr. Smithson turned to her mother, and said, "I just popped out to say my hellos and have a beer. Your husband was kind enough to offer both. Gots lot to do around the house. Be seeing you around ladies." And without another word he turned and left, and Tabitha couldn't help herself but linger on his body as he walked away. The ladies sighed again in unison as he got out of earshot.
"That man is in need of consolation. A long night of consolation. Such a shame."
Murmurs of agreement spread through the little group.
"Mom, that's a little sick, huh? I mean his wife died, if I'm following what you've been saying. A rebound is something I'd prescribe for a bad break up not a dead spouse."
Sarah looked at her daughter, her face serious. "We never know what we need. But I can tell you that man just wants to hold someone again. Anyone, since he can't hold the one he wants."
The block party seemed not to be as fun after that little encounter. Tabitha stuck by her mom and every so often she would sneak a glance to the little yellow house on the corner, where Mr. Smithson had disappeared into.
In the days that followed Tabitha lounged around at home, and the somber mood of the end of the block party seemed to follow her around. Eventually, her mother had enough and she shooed her out of the house to find something to get her out of whatever funk had infected her.
She drove around for a while, windows open and blowing her blonde hair every which way, and the music blaring into the neighborhood. Aimless and full of energy, she spied a park on the end of the street where Lane Parkway ended at a left turn that turned into Warrior Road. She parked on the street and ran out into the park. She climbed to the top of the park equipment and stared out at her quaint little neighborhood. The sun was starting to go down, so the shadows were long. Her shadow waved at her from across the street, on the sidewalk in front of a little yellow house. She felt an itch in her feet, and before she knew it she was across the street standing in front of the door.
"What am I doing?"
"I was wondering that myself." Mr. Smithson came around the side of the house. His shirt was dripping wet and the hose in his hand was bathing the front garden in a shower of water. He looked back and froth between her and the garden, still not paying her any real mind.
"Oh, Mr. Smithson, hi! My mom sent me out of the house to find something to keep me occupied and I thought maybe you could use some help around the place and keep me occupied..."
Mr. Smithson grunted something and released the sprayer. He looked around the yard, frowning. Again, she felt that feeling of being ignored. She'd not intentionally dressed unsexy but as he searched the yard for something for her to do, she looked down at herself.
She was in a high wasted pair of jeans in a white crop top covered up by an unbuttoned button down. It wasn't high class or something, but she was fucking sexy as hell.
Mr. Smithson looked back over at her and said, "Well. I'm not sure that there's too much left for today, but if you want to pull all the plants from the pots on the back porch that would help. There's a trash can with a big red x on it for garden waste that you can put all those dead plants into. I'll be done up here in a bit and I'll come help you."
He turned back to the garden without a second thought and it was like she ceased to exist for him.
She went back to the other side of the house and went to work. Looking at the collection of flowers, now dead in their pots, she put together a very sad story. It was obvious that these were all flowers that had been sent to the house from various people, but all for the same sad reason. Pots that were too big for the house, but not quite big enough to be outside on this patio. It was clear that someone had made an attempt at getting them through the summer, but it was a losing battle. Most of these plants were cuttings and species that were never going to last long. An extra sad circumstance to give someone something destined not to last long after the loss of someone important.
When Mr. Smithson came around to the back where she was, she was all done. The plants were pulled and all the used up soil was in the bin. Mr. Smithson didn't say a word. He walked right past her and went into the back door of the house. She stood around for a few minutes and then turned to go when the back door opened again. Mr. Smithson was drinking a beer, or at least something in a dark bottle. Without a word he handed her one.
It was still hot, as summer was waning, but not done, and the little bit of work she'd done here had given her a small bit of sweat. Feeling daring she put the bottle around her neck first and stretched her back. He simply tipped back his own beer and surveyed the back lawn.
"Thanks. I appreciate you coming over. Tabitha, right?"
"Yeah, that's me. Tabitha Henderson, we met at the block party."
"Yeah, your mom is Sarah. She's a good women. Weren't too many that got to even talk to my wife, Evelyn. But she was one that took time to come and see her when she got really sick. I think she brought over some Italian food. Will you thank her for me?"
"Oh sure. I'm sorry I didn't get to...I mean I was at college."
He turned, and for a moment she thought he saw her. Really saw her, his hazel eyes drinking her in for the first time. But then he turned back to the house, and she could hear a tremble in his thick deep voice.
"She was the best. The best part of me." They stood for a while. Just drinking beer and looking up at the darkening sky.
