Mrs. Greenwald is the mother of my friend Tommy. They live a half mile down the road from us. My family has lived in our house as long as I can remember. My dad built it himself. Both my parents work so our house looks like a typical family abode, cluttered and lived in.
The Greenwald's had their house built in the late 80's when I was in the 6th grade. When I found out they had a son my age I was ecstatic. A few days after they moved in I went down to meet the new kid. When I knocked Mrs. Greenwald opened the door.
My mom when she was home was always dressed in comfortable clothes: sweat pants and sweat shirt or a pair of old jeans and a flannel shirt or something like those two, worn and comfortable but a long way from Susie homemaker.
Mrs. Greenwald on the other hand looked like someone out of a TV show. She had brown hair to her shoulders, brown eyes, and was eye level with me so her height had to be the same as mine at the time, 5" 2". She was well built with an hourglass shape and breasts that were large, showing their size even under her usual conservative clothes. She was dressed in a pair of low-heeled black shoes, a plaid knee-length skirt and a white blouse buttoned to her throat and black nylon stockings covering her legs.
When she opened the door she asked, "Can I help you?"
"Yeah...I...aw...I live up there," I said pointing in the direction of my house, "I heard you had a boy my age."
She smiled and said, "Yes we do. Tommy was wondering if there were any kids his age that lived around here. Please come in."
As I stepped in the door it hit me that the house was immaculate, no coats hanging on the back of chairs, no glasses sitting on end tables, no spots of dust in the corners, everything was perfect and in its place.
Mrs. Greenwald closed the door then called up the stairs, "Tommy, you have a visitor."
Tommy came blasting down the stairs and as he did his mom admonished him, "Walk young man. You're scuffing the wax on the hardwood floors!"
Tommy rolled his eyes as his gait dropped to a walk.
When he got to the bottom of the stairs he said to me, "Hey. I'm Tommy."
"I'm Wes," I replied.
"You live around here?" He asked.
"Yeah just up there," I pointed in the general direction of my house.
"Cool. Come on up to my room," He said as he turned and started up the stairs at a run in violation of his mother's order.
All the bedrooms in the house were on the second floor and all of them had a set of exterior french doors that opened onto a huge deck that looked out over Lake Warren. I had never seen anything like it. Tommy and I played together for the better part of that afternoon. It wasn't long and we were fast friends.
After we met, we spent a lot of time together which meant that I spent as much time at his house as he did at mine. In the years we hung out together I never saw anything out of place in his house and I never saw Mrs. Greenwald in public in anything other than prim immaculate outfits. Tommy's dad was an executive at a large firm. He worked 6 or 7 days and 70 to 80 hours or more a week so we rarely saw him.
Mrs. Greenwald was always nice, dressed in conservative clothes and as I said the house was always perfect. She never lost her temper and always had meals right on time. After a short while it almost felt like she was one of the perfect Stepford wives from the movie. That impression lasted until halfway through my senior year a few months after my 18th birthday.
Over the years Tommy and I had grown. At 18 I was 5' 11" and because of my weight lifting weighed 180 lbs. Tommy was a little shorter at 5' 9" and a bit lighter at 165 lbs. Since I had grown, the top of Mrs. Greenwald's head now hit me at the base of my throat. She still treated me the same but now she had to look up to meet my eyes.
When Tommy stayed over at my house we would sleep in the basement (Dad had made it into a family rec room) so we could stay up late and play games. When I stayed overnight with Tommy Mrs. Greenwald would insist I use the guestroom rather than bunking with Tommy. On the upstairs floor, Tommy's bedroom was at the far end of the hall, the guest bedroom next, then the upstairs guest bathroom.
There was a large open room that Mrs. Greenwald called the sitting room. The master bedroom was on the opposite end from Tommy's room with the door next to the head of the stairs. Since each bedroom had a set of French doors that opened onto a huge deck, Tommy and I would sometimes sit out on the deck before going to bed and play games.
I had stayed over one night after a football game. Tommy's dad was gone for a couple of days to some convention or board meeting which he did quite often. Tommy and I had watched a couple of movies, then went to bed. I woke in the early morning hours with a dry scratchy throat. I decided I wanted something other than water to drink so I got up and headed downstairs. As I started down the stairs I heard a faint groan. I stopped and listened. A moment later I heard it again. When I heard it for a third time I realized it was coming from the master bedroom.
I stepped over and put my ear against the door just in time to hear a long drawn-out groan. My first thought was that maybe Mrs. Greenwald was hurt or sick. As I listened, another long groan sounded from her bedroom.
