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Copyright 2000 Manjaro
No part may be reproduced in any form without explicit written permission.
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Raymond and Teresa Quartraro seemed like your average nice neighbor couple when I moved in next door. Maybe they were more attractive than most thirty-something’s. For the first few months I lived in my house I used to see them working outside on the weekends, and we’d exchange pleasantries. A couple of times I had used the gate in the fence between our backyards to pop over and lend a hand when I saw they could use one. Otherwise, we went our separate ways.
That winter, snow was falling thickly and winds were howling like banshees the morning I stumbled on to Raymond’s and Teresa’s dirty little secret. I found myself helping Teresa out of a jam. The details aren’t important except that she was on the verge of hypothermia when I got her into my place. Half-carrying her to my guest bathroom, I ordered her into a hot shower and started some tea for her. While water boiled, I hurried to put my ear to the bathroom door. I could hear the shower. Wisps of steam worked their way under the door.
"Are you OK in there?" I shouted. She had been shivering uncontrollably when I had brought her in. I feared she might lose consciousness.
"I’m alright." Her words were weak but audible.
"Listen, I’m going to leave a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt on the floor right here. I’ve got tea on, or I can make coffee."
"Tea." Voice a little stronger.
About ten minutes later she entered my kitchen hugging herself as if to still the shivers that continued to beat a path up and down her frame. I fixed her tea the way she indicated she liked it and set it before her on the table. Then I sat across from her and watched her sip from her cup. Finally, she looked up.
"Thank you soo much, Jack. I thought I was going to die out there."
"Do you want to explain how you happened to be outside in ten-below wind chill in your nightgown?" I asked quietly.
"Can I have more tea, please."
"Sure, but Teresa, you don’t strike me as a moron or suicidal. What happened?"
"Jack, can I please tell you about it some other time? I really, really appreciate your help, but I just don’t want to talk about it right now, OK?"
I am such a sucker for women in trouble. I could no more refuse her appeal than I could fly into the sun. But, I’m no fool either. It was obvious far more was going on here than met the eye. Her next words told me I was on target.
"Jack, please don’t tell Raymond about helping me or about my being here."
"What?"
"Please, Jack."
"Why?"
"He’s funny about things. He gets jealous…and stuff."
"He did this didn’t he?"
"Jack, I promise I’ll explain…later. Please?"
Reaching for her cup, I motioned an offer for more tea. She nodded. For just a moment we looked at each other intently. It struck me how lovely and vulnerable she looked. I wondered for the millionth time how guys could be so cruel to women, especially women like this one.
Steeping her tea I speculated if there was anything I could do. Kick his ass and warn him not to harm her again? Been there, done that, odds not so good… shit! When I brought her cup this time I went to her side. For just a moment I rested my hand on her shoulder.
"Teresa, I won’t say anything this time. If there’s anything I can do, you know where to find me, okay?"
She placed her hand over mine and gave me a little squeeze.
"Thanks, I owe you, Jack"
"Yeah, right."
Without too much trouble I was able to get in her house and unlock her front door.
Through my window I watched her make her way through the snow to her place. Later, I found a plastic grocery bag on my back deck. Inside, with the clothes she’d borrowed, was a note:
Jack,
You are a kind and sweet man. I am so lucky to have you for a neighbor.
T.
About a week and a half later, on a much nicer day, coffee was brewing, and I was just sitting down to the newspaper when I heard tapping on the slider to the deck. Indy came racing out from the bedroom to see if another cat or a squirrel was invading his territory. He lost interest as soon as he discovered it was just a human.
I didn’t lose interest. I was surprised as hell to see Teresa waiting for me to open the door!
"Hi, Teresa. I haven’t seen you…in a while. How are you doing?"
"I’m doing okay, you know," she said with a small smile.
"Can I get you anything? I’ve got coffee going."
"Coffee sounds good. Where are your cups?
"Teresa, sit down. I’ll get the coffee. How do you like yours?"
"Jack, let me do it, OK? Last time you did all the serving. It’s my turn." Another small smile tried to light up her face.
"Okay, cups are right there. I like mine black. Coffee, not cup."
Teresa got our coffee, sat down, and cleared her throat. This was obviously a prelude to something she considered difficult, but I couldn’t let her start without finding out where Raymond was.
"Oh, he works rotating shifts, so his hours vary from one week to the next."
"So, the answer is he’s at work."
"Yes," she laughed.
"Hey, you look great when you laugh. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today?"
Teresa was feeling relaxed.
"I made you a promise and I’m here to keep it." With that, Teresa went on to explain the complexities of her marriage to Raymond, including his need to utterly control her. In her effort to present a balanced accounting she told me some of Raymond’s finer qualities as well as describing his means of punishing her when he perceived she was not being a good wife. She was quick to point out that her husband didn’t beat her, he just did mean and spiteful things to her. He wasn’t really "bad". When I asked how her being locked out in the cold dressed only in her nightgown played into all of this she hesitated.
"Well, he was madder than usual. It’s the first time he’s ever done anything that could hurt me seriously."
"Teresa, has he always been this way, or is he getting worse?"
She couldn’t answer confidently either way.
I kept silent during her story for the most part, even when I felt she was deluding herself or otherwise shading the truth. Getting her story out seemed a good idea on its own. As I listened I observed her carefully. My attention was drawn to her not only by her words, but by the way she moved her hands when she spoke, by the light reflecting from her shiny, jet black hair, by how her lips formed words, by the contrast of her caramel complexion with the cream of her sweater, by the swell of her breasts, and by her long dark lashes.
"Careful, Jack," a voice inside warned. My distraction was not so strong that I couldn’t begin to get a feel for what kind of person she was. I realized she was a pretty decent human being.
When she was done, she looked to me for a reaction.
"Hmm, Hon, I think your husband does not deserve you. Why don’t you leave him and find someone who appreciates you?"
"It’s not that simple, Jack."
"Of course it’s simple. It’s just not easy sometimes."
"Jack, ...never mind."
"Okay, I’m sorry. Thanks for sharing all of that..."
"Let me get you some more coffee."
"That would be good."