Whoever had abandoned the little apartment had left a mess. I looked around dismally as I surveyed the damage. When I had bought the little one room place, sight unseen, as is, it was for the view of the park out the back door in the kitchen. Winterlake park was stunning, and now that leaves were getting ready to change, I couldn't wait to get my desk set up in the little kitchen at the window.
I did not know the damage would be this extensive though, it would take a week just to make it liveable. Still, even in the shape it was in, it had been a steal. The economy like it is, a lot of nicer places were going for just as cheap. I set the box of cleaning supplies on the counter that had been for some reason drug away from the wall and the sink and looked at the floor. My biggest fear had been roaches or bugs, but there were none. Something that looked brownish yellow had been spilled though, and it looked very sticky. Blech. This was not a chore I was looking forward to. I stepped to the back door and lifted the shade on the window to look at the park, to remind myself of why I wanted this place when I had a perfectly good farm upstate.
You would think there would be less distraction on a farm than in the city, but you are wrong. On a farm, in a small town where you grew up, everyone knows you. Everyone stops in to say hello whenever they want. Cousins, siblings, parents, they all invite themselves to dinner when you had planned on skipping to get that next chapter written before bed. In a city, no one wants to know you. No one cares who you are and they all mind their own business. Peace at least.
The vast park was empty as far as I could see, but it was early in the morning. Just after five am is not a time for people to be roaming the park. As I stood there I could see one of my adjoined neighbors open their back door and a white bulldog with brown spots shot out into the grass behind the apartments. My first thoughts were very uncharitable and grumpy. Did it bark a lot? I would have to watch every step if I went out back. Scowling at the dog who was happily doing his business next to a giant oak tree, I yanked the shade down.
Cleaning did not take a week, it actually took less than three days. By the third day, I had learned several things. One, the dog didn't bark, ever that I heard. His owner, a single man, maybe ten years older than me and attractive in a brooding sort of way, was also quiet and also worked from home. The apartment on the other side of me was empty, but I was told by the very gossipy older man who lived four doors down that it was let to a young actress who was almost always gone. The gossipy old man had moved back here after his wife had died, this was where they had met over forty years ago. I smiled politely and listened while I moved my few things into the little apartment. Most of the furniture I had bought online and was being delivered as I moved my boxes in and unpacked. The old man was of the opinion that an open door for the delivery men was an open door for him too as he watched me unpack the few dishes I had brought in the kitchen. After they brought in my desk and I had it put at the kitchen window, I set up my laptop and printer and he informed me with a straight face that computers were known to cause cancer and tumors and many other problems. Once the delivery men had my bed and dresser set up in the small bedroom, I pardoned myself out of the old mans company and locked the front door behind him. Over the next few days, I learned that he spent almost his entire day in a chair on his sidewalk, waiting to waylay any of the tenants. The easiest way to avoid him was to go out back if I needed to.
I began leaving my back door open when I realized that the park was almost always empty and I could sit and listen to the quite rustle of the trees while I wrote. The bulldog seemed to take the open door as an invitation and he waddled in one evening wagging his whole hind quarters and jumping up on my leg. I scratched his ears as I read over the last paragraph I had written, then sat frowning over how to make it sound more smooth. The flow was bothering me.
"Dozer! Dozer! Here Dozer!"
Dozer didn't move, he looked at my open door and woofed a deep gravely woof. The quiet neighbor popped his head in and had the grace to look embarrassed.
"Sorry, he's never just gone into anyone's house before. I leave my backdoor open and he comes and goes as he pleases, he must have thought your open door meant it was all right too. Come on Dozer, come here!"
"I don't mind," I answered a bit untruthfully. The man was handsome and I almost sighed. Another distraction was the last thing I needed. Dozer was not moving and the man looked lost as he stood just outside the door. "I am Han, umm, I mean Jessica. My name is Jessica, you can come in."
"Thank you, I am Ben." He stepped in just long enough to pick up his dog, then stepped back to the doorway. "It was nice to meet you," he called as he left.
Ben. It fit him. Tall, big and quiet. Handsome in a simple sort of way. He wouldn't make the cover of a magazine, but he was the boy next door a girl might find herself falling for while he worked on his mustang. I smiled at the thought, since he was now the boy next door to me.
Ben proved to be more distracting than I hoped. He seemed to be the parks only frequent visitor, walking Dozer, playing with Dozer, or just sitting on his back patio and reading while Dozer played. Dozer visited as often as I began leaving the door open almost all day for the breeze and the background noise. I was able to integrate him into my work, taking the time I took to scratch his ears to read over my work and edit a bit as I went. I even began leaving him a bowl of water on the floor. If he stayed too long, Ben would come to the door and get him, never staying long enough to say more than hello, which was fine with me, though I did begin wondering what his story was. The gossipy old man didn't know when I tried to casually bring him up in conversation while standing in front of my apartment with two arms full of groceries. According to the old man, he had lived there at least three years, he had been there when the old man moved in. He was quiet and never talked and rarely ever left his apartment. He didn't have a girlfriend and no visitors at all. It was unnatural according to the old man. I smiled and slipped into my apartment with a quick goodbye as he audibly informed me that frozen dinners caused cancer.
Fall came and I began sitting at my desk with a robe and an extra blanket so I could keep the door open. Halloween night, I sighed and slipped out my backdoor. I couldn't focus with the constant knocking and the day had slipped up on me. I had no treats, so I pretended to not be home. That did not stop the knocks. I sat in the little chair I had gotten for outside and sipped on coffee while I stared through the trees into the park.
A voice from several feet away made me jump and almost spill all over myself. "So, why 'Han'?"
"Uhh, what?" I asked turning to Ben. He was sitting on his patio in the dark, Dozer was curled up next to him.
"The day you introduced yourself. You said Han first."
"Oh. Yeah. It's an old nickname."
"Star Wars?" he asked standing up.
"Yeah," I answered slightly embarrassed. Everyone back home had called me Han since I was four.
Ben didn't say anything else, he just slipped into his dark apartment and shut the back door after Dozer followed him in. I looked at his windows a moment, but they were devoid of any sort of light at all. Was he standing there watching? I shivered and turned back to the park, but I couldn't get the crawling feeling off my spine, so I abandoned the patio and fled to my room to read.
