I
I stood peering through the blinds in my kitchen waiting for him to leave. "Just get in your car and fucking go already." I mumbled under my breath as he made yet another trip up his stairs for who knows what. Eventually he came back down and finally entered his silver Mustang and started the engine. I breathed a sigh of relief as I watched his car exit the condominium complex we both lived in. Finally able to exit my own house, I walked down my stairs to the pathway that separated his unit from mine and crossed the parking lot to my own car, somewhat irritated that I was going to have to rush to avoid being late for work.
His name was Gary and I was avoiding him. I had in fact been avoiding him for days. Not because of some neighborly dispute or that he was menacing or creepy, it was actually quite the reverse. You see, five days prior I had woken up with a heavy head. It wasn't precisely a hangover mind you. It was the groggy feeling of not having drunk too much the night before, but making every effort to flirt with the edges of too much. As I lay there in my mild stupor I slowly came to the realization that a grave error had been committed and while I wasn't solely responsible for said error, I was certainly complicit in its commission.
As I lay there attempting to sort through the conflicting feelings of dread, mild arousal, remorse and elation the phone rang. I knew it was my husband and that I had to answer. We had been talking on the phone at that time every Saturday morning for weeks now. Very convenient for me, for him not so much. I was obligated.
"Hello?" I answered meekly.
"Hey baby." He greeted. He had been drinking.
"And why shouldn't he be?" I admonished myself at my brief flash of irritation. "It's Saturday night for him."
We recounted our week to each other and made small talk for 30 minutes or so before saying our goodbyes. If it had been just five years later we would have had smartphones and technology that would allow us to talk as often as we wanted. As it was, he had to purchase a pricey phone card in order for us to talk for 30 minutes per week. This on a meager military salary.
Back to reality. "It didn't happen. It didn't happen. It didn't happen." A mantra. Could I believe deeply enough to make it true? Never one for religion or superstition, I resigned myself to the fact that yes, it had in fact happened and it had to be dealt with.
"Not today though." I said out loud. Nor would I for the next two weeks as I avoided contact with Gary at all costs. Even going as far as to not answer the door within minutes of closing it behind me, screening phone calls and watching for him to leave before exiting my own house. "I'll just keep this up until my husband gets back." I lied to myself. "Once he's here things will go back to normal."
II
It hadn't been the first time I had peered through the blinds. Months before, shortly after we had moved in, I had been standing at the kitchen counter of the small two bedroom condo putting dishes away when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. The units sat on top of their garages, so every house had an upstairs entry with a spacious deck adjoining the landing. When I turned my head to investigate I saw him. He was 51, though I guessed early 40s at the time. His short salt-and-pepper hair was combed up in the spiky style of the time. His clean-shaven face displayed his prominent jawline and sharp features. He had just come back from the gym or a run, as evidenced by the sweaty cutoff t-shirt and gym shorts. Obviously a habit if his fit, toned body and muscular arms were any indication.
"Damn....well hello neighbor." I said to myself out loud as I watched him climb his stairs and enter his house. I turned to the dishes and sighed.
"At least the views are nice." I thought. I hadn't been thrilled about the neighborhood. It wasn't that it was a dangerous area, it was just so far from the highway. On top of being in a new city without any family nearby, I was literally 30 minutes of driving through stoplights from just about anything more significant than a drug store or fast food restaurant. In the end the price was right and my husband and I had settled for the place.
I had met my husband Jay years before. We grew up in the same neighborhood, though we never went to school together due to our age difference. I had a girlhood crush on the guy who was always in front of his parents' house in coveralls working on his truck and it had stuck with me. He was 7 years my senior and I had attempted to flirt in my girlish way, but I mostly walked by his house multiple times a day hoping to catch a glimpse of him.