*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
*****
In the stifling August heat, Brian Harris pushed the lawnmower through the thicket of grass in front of the Houghton house. The last tenants had seen Brian cutting it when they moved in, had not told him 'thank you,' had not offered him money, or a cold beverage.
The next time he cut his own yard, right across from the Haughton house, Brian had just finished putting his mower away when Moses Everhardt, the patriarch of the house stomped across the street and demanded to know when Brian planned on cutting their grass.
"Uh, I'm not," Brian had calmly told him. "I was doing that as a favor to Jim and Kathy so their house wouldn't look abandoned. Now that you're living there, you can cut your own grass."
In the four months the four males and two females did live there, they cut the grass once. They'd scrounged an oil spewing mower from somewhere and glared hatefully at Brian as they labored to push it through the tall grass.
Jim and Kathy and their daughter Britney had moved from DeGarde, Louisiana to Winter Park, Colorado, to seek treatment for Jim's disease. Jim had some sort of bone deficiency; at thirty four years of age when Brian and Barbara Harris had moved in across the street, Jim was already grossly disfigured, hobbled from the disease that was eating away at his bones. Ten years his junior, Brian took to helping the Haughtons whenever he could. Barbara took to babysitting Britney when Jim and Kathy had to travel overnight to this specialist or that hospital.
Then, eight years ago, Jim and Kathy heard of a Specialist in Winter Park, Colorado and they moved there. The neighborhood was on the decline, the only reason why a man that had just opened his own dry-cleaning business and a stay at home homemaker could afford the three bedroom one bathroom home. Because of the declining value of the homes in the area, though, there were no offers on the Haughtons' small, comfortable home. For income, Jim and Kathy rented it out to a succession of ever-worsening tenants.
Thanks to the opening of the St. Elizabeth Trauma Center, though, the value of the properties was now on the upswing.
Brian finally finished mowing the grass, and walked across the street. He sat on his own front porch and drank from the jug of ice water he'd put there earlier. Barbara was not there to fetch his water.
Barbara had not been there for six years. A few years after Jim, Kathy, and Britney moved, Barbara, who had grown increasingly dissatisfied with him, with his dry-cleaning business, with their house, with life in general, announced that she'd met someone new, she hadn't meant to, she was sorry, but even as ignorant and inattentive as Brian was, even Brian had to admit that things had not been good between them for quite a while.
It seemed that her parents, who had always harbored a deep-seated dislike of Brian Harris, had always believed that he was beneath their daughter, who sneered at his paltry little dry-cleaning business, had introduced their daughter to Glen Peters, a prominent architect. They had done the introductions, had told Barbara that a professional man like glen Peters was more to her stature, and encouraged their daughter to get to know Glen Peters, have a few lunches with Glen Peters, encouraged their daughter to leave her pathetic little husband and marry Glen Peters.
"Man, I am so sorry to hear that," Jim had mumbled; the disease by now having eaten his jawbone.
"Oh, Brian, how absolutely horrible!" Kathy had wailed through the phone.
"Mr. Brian? I'm sorry Miss Barbara's being mean to you," Britney had comforted.
Despite his heavy heart, Brian couldn't help but smile. Even several hundred miles away, the Houghtons seemed to care more for him than his own wife had.
In order to get a quick divorce, Barney Siegel, Barbara's father, had 'generously' offered to pay the expenses of the divorce. Knowing that they'd already printed up and sent out the wedding invitations, reserved the synagogue, and hired the caterer; Brian had smiled and said that he was going to insist on counseling, in an effort to save his marriage.
To make matters worse, Brian left his two assistants in charge of the business and went on a ten day cruise.
By the time he returned, Barney Siegel agreed to have Barbara sign a quit claim deed to the house, sign away any interests in his dry-cleaning business, and pay twenty five thousand in alimony.
"Fucking useless sack of shit; should have never let my Barbara marry you," Barney had spat.
"I haven't signed the papers yet, shit for brains," Brian smiled across the table. "In fact, your hurtful words have caused me such distress; I think I might have to go on another cruise."
"That three month one we were talking about?" Sophia Coutre asked her client.
"Yeah, it's real nice; you get off in Ireland, spend about a week there, then..." Brian agreed.
"What more do you want, you God damned pissant son of a bitch," Barney had screamed, outraged.
"Wow, now I'm not signing anything," Brian smiled.
"Sir, what would it take," Jay Richards had asked, trying to calm his own client down.
"An apology and oh, I don't know language like that? Another twenty five thousand," Brian had smiled, playing with the pen, thoroughly enjoying Barney's agitation.
"I ought to beat the living shit out of you, you little..." Barney snarled.
"Bye," Brian said, got to his feet and left the room.
He let Barney get the first punch, made sure it happened right in front of Sophia's receptionist, and in front of the security camera. Then Brian delivered three punches. To Barney Siegel's face.
"You saw that; I simply defended myself," Brian said, using a handkerchief to staunch his bloody lip.
"Uh, yes sir," the horrified girl said.
Now, six years later, Brian Harris was polite whenever he saw the Siegel's, polite whenever he saw the Peters. In fact, when Kathy called to let him know that Jim had passed away, he had called Barbara and told her of Jim's passing.
"Who?" Barbara had said.
"Jim. Jim and Kathy Houghton? They lived across the street from us?" Brian had said.
"Huh? Oh, oh yeah! Had that cute girl, Courtney or something like that," Barbara had said.
"Britney, but never mind," Brian had said, actually disgusted with his ex-wife.
Shortly after Jim's funeral, the tenants across the street had pulled a midnight move, just packing up what they wanted, leaving piles of debris and rotting food, and departing.
So Brian was cutting the mid-calf high grass. He'd emptied the mailbox, tossing 'Occupant' into the trash can, and writing 'Return to Sender' on the other pieces of mail.
He knew where the key was, underneath the extremely heavy cast iron flower pot, which no longer held any plants; it no longer held dirt, and entered the Haughton house.
The tenants had taken even less care with the interior of the house and Brian used his cell phone to record everything that he saw, gathered up and threw out the food items
He actually felt dirtier having to walk through the house, than he had by sweating through the yard work.
"I don't know who y'all used as your rental agency, but they need to track down them tenants and sue the hell out of them," Brian said, then forwarded the pictures to Kathy's cell phone.
Brian looked up and down Batio Street and nodded with satisfaction. Out of the twelve houses on their block, only one other one needed to have its grass cut and TAB Properties would be doing that on Monday, the day they did this particular area.
He didn't know where the name 'Batio' came from, but Brian delighted in telling people it used to be masturbation street but the 'Mastur' and the 'N' had blown off in a powerful hurricane.
It still stung Brian, the divorce. It still bothered him that Barbara had told him he had nothing to offer her. It bothered him that the Petition for the Dissolution of the Marriage claimed that Barbara Siegel sought none of the marital assets; the marital assets were of no value to her.
A few years ago, Joanna Siegel, Barbara's mother, had swept into the small dry-cleaners and smirked as she presented a small lace comforter to be cleaned; it was the same comforter that had graced Barbara's baby bed. It would seem that Glen Peters was offering them their first grandchild.
"Yes ma'am, that's wonderful; you and Barney must be very proud," Brian had said graciously.
"Yes, Glen does have something to offer, after all," Joanna had said haughtily.
"Okay, please stay right there while we open this and examine it," Brian had requested.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, I don't have time to just stand here and..." Joanna had snapped.
"Ma'am, this comforter has been in storage for twenty five years," Brian had said, forcefully. "You will stand there while I unfold it, or you will take it with you."
Brian and his assistant made notes of the dry rot damage to the lace in nearly each crease. Then, Brian loosed the last fold and a live mouse scurried out.
Joanna had screamed as Brian gathered up the baby mice and disposed of them while his assistant captured the momma mouse.
"And, that, Mrs. Siegel is why I wanted you to stay," Brian had snapped at the now chastened woman.
