The sun shines brightly as I step off the bus. Summer vacation started barely a week ago and it was already beautiful out.
I begin walking the several blocks to my house, tired but upbeat after my first day of work. I found out that I had gotten my very first job the afternoon of my graduation. Mr. Gottlieb, who owned a small ice cream parlor across town, was looking for an assistant. My interview was only a few days prior to graduation and honestly, I thought I had screwed it up. I stammered my way through, barely able to meet old Mr. Gottlieb's scowling eyes. But he must have sensed my can-do attitude and believed me when I told him I had a good work ethic because he called during my graduation lunch to offer me the job.
Mr. Gottlieb was hard to impress, but I'm sure he noticed how much effort I put in on my first day, despite never ceasing to scowl.
I turned the corner onto my street, lost in happy thoughts of my impressive first day of work, and noticed a moving truck outside the house next door to mine. Old Mr. Reed has been trying to find a new tenant for a couple months. Guess he finally found someone to rent it to.
Walking up my driveway, I tried to get a glimpse into the house next door to see what the new neighbors were like. The houses in my neighborhood were long and skinny. They sat close together on narrow lots. Our driveway ran perpendicular to the driveway next door, separated only by a chain link fence.
Slowing down, I attempt to peer into the open front door when a voice calls out to me; one that makes me freeze with pure dread.
"Kyle Finnegan, the bitch himself!"
Turning toward the voice, I see Stanley Pachis striding toward me from around the back of the house. The sneer on his face brings back a flood of bad memories from my first three years of high school: constant mocking, being tripped in the halls, smacks to the back of the head, quick punches to the groin and stomach in P.E.; all delivered with the same sneer he wore now.
"The fuck are you doing here, fag?" He asks, approaching the fence.
"I- I live here," I stammer back, still not quite believing he's standing in front of me. Looking up at him, I remember how much he used to intimidate me just by his size alone. My 5'6 skinny frame is dwarfed by his 6'2 muscular one.
"No fucking way! Looks like we're neighbors now." His sneer slowly shifts into a sadistic grin.
My body begins to feel like it's shutting down. There's no way God could be so cruel as to allow the asshole that tormented me throughout most of high school to move in next door.
He snorts, looking at my clothes. "You haven't changed a bit, fairy. What the fuck are you wearing?"
My face reddens with embarrassment.
"It's my work uniform," I tell him and look away.
I had liked my striped polo shirt with its bright, cotton candy colors and matching paper hat when it had been given to me. It was a festive outfit. But now, with Stanley mocking me to my face, I feel self-conscious wearing it.
"Oh my bad, I thought you just decided to advertise how gay you are," he says and begins to laugh.
"I'm not fucking gay, asshole," I shout furiously. He holds his hands up in fake surrender, grinning at my denial.
"Whatever you have to tell yourself man."
I frown at him, about to cut the conversation off so I can escape inside when my mom's car pulls into the driveway. Our heads turn as she parks the car and exits. Sauntering toward us, I hear Stanley mutter, "Holy shit," under his breath in wonder.
I glance toward him as he takes in the sight of my mom, clearly impressed with what he sees, and a scowl crosses my face. I'm used to men checking out my mom. She's a very attractive woman, possessing a curvaceous figure and large breasts. I once overheard a couple of kids who live down the street refer to her as a MILF as they biked by our house. But seeing this jerk ogling her turns my stomach sour.
"Hello, sweetheart," mom greets me when she reaches us. She leans over to quickly peck my cheek, then tilts her head towards Stanley.
"Who's this now?"
Stanley interjects before I can answer. "An old friend of Kyle's and your new neighbor." He flashes her a charming, boyish smile. The same one he used to use on all the teachers when trying to get out of trouble.
"Well, it's very nice to meet you then. I'm Julie, Kyle's mom."
She sticks her hand out over the fence and he grasps it, delivering a quick shake. "Stanley Pachis, it's a pleasure meeting you."
"Pachis, hmm? That's an interesting last name."
"It's Greek," he tells her. "Means 'big' and 'thick'." His smile grows just a bit more.
"Clearly not very apt though," she laughs, gesturing toward his lean muscular body.
"Oh it is, but only where it counts."
A beat passes as what he said hangs in the air before he raises his arms and gives a mock show of flexing his muscles.
They start laughing, breaking the tension caused by his potentially lewd comment. Watching them causes anger and jealousy to well up inside me.
"So, you and Kyle know each other then?" she asks him, laughter still in her voice.
"Oh, Kyle and I go way back," he answers with fake enthusiasm. "We went to high school together. Good times, right bud?" He reaches over and thumps me a little too hard on the back. A surprised grunt slips from my mouth and I see him smirk at me.
"How nice! You didn't graduate this year, did you?"
"No, I graduated just last year."
"Oh," she says, taken aback. "Wouldn't have thought you were only 19."
"Actually, I'll be 21 at the end of the summer. I had so much fun in school that I decided to stick around a couple of extra years," he jokes.
In reality, he's just so fucking stupid that he got held back. Twice.
"That makes more sense. Didn't think you looked the right age to be that recent of a high school graduate."
"I could say the same about you," he replies, giving her a smile.
He places his hands on the fence, locking his elbows as he leans closer to her. "You look too young to be the mom of a recent high school graduate. I almost mistook you for his sister at first."
I snort and mom casts me a dirty look.
"I just turned 36 not too long ago. I was just about Kyle's age when I had him."
"Well, you're definitely the best looking mom I've seen." Again, he gives her that charming smile that makes me want to punch him in his smug face.
She smiles back bashfully, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "You're too much."
I roll my eyes before looking a bit closer at Stanley. Is he flexing his muscles? The snug, white tank top already shows off his toned arms and chest. Not to mention the color contrasts sharply with his olive skin tone, making them stand out even more. But of course he'd try and show off as much as possible. Douche bags are just like that.
As Stanley continues chatting with mom, an uneasy feeling settles into my stomach, watching how well they seem to get along.
Suddenly a voice rings out from inside the house. "Stanley, get in here and help me with the mattresses!"
"Shit, I should go help him. It was nice meeting you though. Hopefully I'll see you around?" He flashes her his smile one last time.
"Absolutely, it was nice meeting you too, Stanley," mom returns a warm smile of her own before heading toward our house.
I follow her to the back door, glancing behind me when I don't hear Stanley walking away and see him still standing by the fence. He has his hands in his pockets and his eyes roam over mom's body in admiration. We make eye contact and he gives me a smirk before flipping me off. Mom unlocks the back door and pushes her way inside. I quickly follow, but Stanley continues to stand there smirking, until I shut the door behind me.
