“See you’re working on the front yard.” He surveys the lawn full of Barbie holes.
I nod. “Looks pretty bad.”
“You just need to water it.” Casey crouches down and pulls at some of the dead straw-stuff. He looks up at me. “This is grass, not sod. The seeds are here. Water it, and it’ll come back. We should be getting some more rain in the next few weeks, and that’ll do wonders. Add a little seed to those holes, and the grass will come in just fine.”
“Okay.” I nod enthusiastically, relishing this strange new role as Neighbor Lady. Who knows? I might even be Cute or Sexy Neighbor Lady. I go to dust off my butt with my hands, feeling proud of my workout regimen. But my hand… my hand….
Oh, God. I think I’ve sat in dog poo.
My hand is stuck in the dog poo on the ass of my jeans. In front of The Man Next Door!
I don’t move. I can’t. If I take my hand off my butt, I’ll have a stinky hand of dog poo. So, I simply stand, hand resting nonchalantly on my butt.
“Wow,” I say. “I should make a list. I need some grass seed. What else?”
Casey looks around. “This yard doesn’t have a sprinkler system, so you’ll need a hose. I just installed a sprinkler system last summer, so I’ve still got the kind of sprinklers you attach to a hose, but I’m not using them.” He looks over his shoulder toward his place.
“They’re sitting somewhere in my garage. One should cover the front, another the back. You can have ‘em,” he offers. “They’re just collecting dust.”
He’s handy and nice. Soooo nice. He must be flirting. Maybe he’s noticed my butt, but not the dog poo, and admires all those squats and crunches I’ve done.
“Great,” I say brightly. “I’ll get myself a hose. Then, I’ll be all set.” I wonder if we’re talking in
double entendres
, so I think I blush.
Casey puts his arms out like Jesus with the fishes and loaves. “We can get you all set right now.” A corn-fed smile breaks across his face like the sun rising over a Carolina pasture. “There’s a great hardware store not far from here on Colfax. I’ll lend you hoses until you can pick some up, and I’ll go get some grass seed from Manny.”
“No, don’t.” Keeping my hand planted awkwardly on my caboose, I kind of chase him as he heads across the street. I don’t know who Manny is, but I fear a
ménage à trois
based on gardening favors is in the works. I don’t know, maybe that’s how things work in the suburbs. Best be careful since I’m clueless.
Casey turns at the curb and looks at me.
“Uh, never mind,” I say, not wanting to lose the heart of The Man Next Door. “If Manny’s got the seed, well…” I laugh. “Thanks. That would be wonderful.” I keep
huh-huhing
until he heads across the street. Then I turn around with a confident air, as though I always walk with my hand on my ass.
By the time I change my jeans, Casey and an in-shape man with curling, graying hair are in my front yard with a box of grass seed and a bag of topsoil.
“This is Manny,” Casey introduces as I walk up to the pair, offering a bottle of water to each. “He and his wife Robin live in that blue house.” He points to a house across the street that blooms in the middle of an elaborate garden of succulents.
Man, he must hate me already on account of my house.
“Lisa,” I say and we shake. “Thank you, very much. What can I do?”
“Come with me,” Casey says. “We’ll go get the hose and sprinklers.”
I want to bounce on my toes and shake my hands like a
Flashdance
maniac. He’s taking me into his garage.
Nice
. We walk across my lawn, up his driveway, and into his open garage.
We work our way through the dim interior. This is it. I’m sure he won’t make a move or anything, not with the entire street watching, but we’re going to have some sort of awkward or flirty moment.
I’m sure this impending moment will let us both know we want to get to know each other better. This could be my future, and all for just under a million bucks.
“Hi there.”
I spin around to face a petite blonde with big blue eyes and an even bigger smile. “You must be Lisa. I’m Jessica.” She pumps my hand enthusiastically.
“Hey, hon,” Casey says.
Hon
? Did The Man Next Door and Future Father of My Children just call her
hon
?
And did she call me Lisa? What? Did Dolly Blue run home to phone everyone to tell them the frat boys were gone?
“Have you seen the old sprinklers from last year?” he asks her.
“On the shelf above the lawn mower.” She looks back at me. “A new neighbor. And not a teenage horndog or somebody’s grandma. I’m
so
glad you’re here.”
I want to kill her. She’s got Casey and a size 2 butt and a size 6 rack.
That’s probably the only reason he likes her, that small butt and those big boobs, and the blonde hair and the innocent blue eyes. Casey’s such an asshole. I bet he’d dump her if she got fat. Suddenly, I’m on her side.
“Glad to be here!” I chirp with gusto. I want to tell her I’ll be there for her whenever Casey tells her to go easy on the Baskin Robbins.
“Listen, I’m done grading papers, so I’ll be over in a jiffy to help.”
She practically skips back into the house. “What does she do?” I ask, taking the hose from Casey.
“Teaches third grade.”
Jeez. A sweetly gorgeous elementary school teacher. For real? I bet she sings in the church choir and calls her Mama every morning.
“Grading papers for third graders?” I ask. All I remember about third grade is recess and my crush on Chad Guazo.
“Haiku poems and short multiplication.”
Oh, God. He knows what her kids are learning. He must really love her.
“Hm.” I try to invest the syllable with interest as we get back to my yard.
* * * * *
It’s eleven-thirty as I lock Aaron and Christian in the garage and put the other three dogs in the house to sniff out cranky cats.
Casey moves the hose and sprinklers to the back yard. Dolly washes the windows in front. Manny and Robin trim back the few bushes and trees.
Dom and Jeffrey, another couple from up the street, work on the roof. They straighten tiles, clean the gutters, and put all the underwear they find in one big pile.
Ethel, a faded, down-to-earth old woman from across the street—and yes, her name is really Ethel—does something with a small gardening tool near the front porch.
Jessica scrubs my woefully chipped stucco. Mia helps her.
Mia’s parents dragged her over here two hours ago then waved as they left for their son Dylan’s football game. I asked Mia whether she wanted to go too, whether all her friends would be there, but she claimed she wanted to stay here.
All these people are jumping in to spruce up the house that has been bringing down their property values for years. Except for Mia, who was sent as proxy for her parents.
Nobody’s even asked me my last name or where I’ve moved from or anything. They don’t care about me. I don’t
count
. All they care about is my house.
Part of me wants to kick them all off my property. Every one of them. I sigh as I kneel on the driveway to start washing off lewd phrases and explicit pictures. I begin to scrub and my stomach growls.
Of course! I want food, and I bet I'm not the only one. Why didn’t I think of that before? Food always works.
Twenty minutes later, I return from the supermarket with all the supplies I need to win these people over. I will transform their calculated kindness into true camaraderie.
I spread an assortment of quilted moving blankets across the lawn, then start laying out the picnic. All sorts of cold-cuts, spreads, breads, condiments, drinks, and snacks abound. I even got Jessica to bring two lawn chairs from her house for Dolly and Ethel.
“Come and get it!” I beam at them all and beckon, and they flock to me like pigeons.
Dolly, however, balks at the lawn chair. “I’m not a rickety old relic,” she announces. “I can have a picnic as easily as the next person!” With that, she plops down on the blanket.
Ethel, it seems, is not to be outdone by the flashier old lady. She says, “Same goes for me. I still do all my own gardening, so I think I’m capable of sitting on a lawn.” She eases herself down more gingerly.
Once everyone is settled, Manny looks around pointedly. “Any Diet 7-Up?”
Seriously, Manny? Who buys Diet 7-Up? “Um, don’t think so,” I say. “How ‘bout…”
“It’s okay,” Robin interrupts. “I’ll run across and get him one.”
“Get me two,” he shouts as she crosses the street.
“So,” Jessica says, leaning toward me with a sparkle in her eye, “what made you buy this place and save us all? I can’t tell you how happy we all are.” She bites into her dainty turkey sandwich, probably being careful not to get too hippy for Casey.
“I needed a place,” I tell her, “and dreaded looking. I spotted this one below any realtor’s radar, so I jumped.”
“Far be it from that cheapskate Turner to use a realtor,” Dolly chips in. “Of course it was ‘For Sale by Owner.’ He wasn’t going to give anyone a piece of the profits.”
“Except,” Casey corrects, “all the workmen he's ripped off over the years who had liens on the property.”
“He sounds awful,” I chime in.
“Well, I bet he bilked you good.”
“Manny!” Robin returns with his sodas. “What’s the matter with you? How can you be so rude?”
“I’ll be right back,” Jessica says, putting down her soda and getting up. “Bathroom,” she explains.
But her attempt to distract conversation away from the subject of money and how much I squandered does not work for longer than the time it takes her to get to her own front door.
“How much did you pay?” Manny asks.
Dom shoots him a look. “I’m sure you didn’t get bilked.” He puts a reassuring hand on my arm and looks to Jeffrey for back-up.
But I have to give Jeffrey credit. He can’t lie, even to side with his true love. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “We’re thrilled to have you. And we’re going to paint this place tomorrow, after we take you to get the colors of your choice. Once we all put in a little more elbow grease, you’re going to love it here.”
I look around at all of them, and decide they’re not so calculating after all. “I already do.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t buy a bigger place.” This from Ethel, who hasn’t addressed me directly all morning. Not even when she showed up with her three-pronged gardening tool.
“Because of all the dogs?” I ask. “We’ll all fit here, just fine. We just need some time to settle.”
“I mean because of all your money.”
Everyone stops eating and looks at me.
“Money?” Dom asks.
Ethel speaks up again. “You
are
Lisa Flyte, aren’t you?”
Great. Ethel must be one of those women who religiously reads tabloids, committing every article to memory in case aliens ever try any funny stuff with her.
“I am,” I say quietly. “But I didn’t get nearly the amount the papers have been reporting.”
“You’re rich?” Mia squawks, her eyes getting huge. “And you live in
this
neighborhood? You could live anywhere! In Beverly Hills or Bel Air! You could live next to famous people, like Justin Bieber or Johnny Depp!”
“Doesn’t Johnny Depp live in France?” I ask. Please, please let everyone start talking about Johnny Depp now.
But everyone just stares at me. Not one of them joins in to talk about Johnny Depp.
I feel a hand on my arm. I look around to see Dom looking into my eyes, his concern as palpable as warm, fluffy nougat. “How do you feel, honey? Are you all better from the accident?”
The instant lump in my throat is so huge I cannot answer. No one has EVER asked me that before. I open my mouth, try to speak, but I can’t.
Instead, I start crying.
“Dom!” Jeffrey turns to him and whacks him with the back of his hand. “Look what you’ve done!”
“No,” I snuffle. “That’s the nicest thing—”
I choke up with embarrassing, racking sobs. “My parents,” I try to explain, “and my sister…and my stupid brother…and Rick…they were all mean to me, all tricking me. Then Jack…on the mountain…” I peter off and try to smile, but they all seem to have stood up and backed away.
Except Dolly, who sits regally munching a cracker, and Ethel, who eats a roll of ham like she hasn’t got a care in the world. Casey has a particularly clueless look on his face as Jessica, just back from the bathroom, looks at him curiously. Mia stares at me open-mouthed. Only Dom doesn’t desert me.
He puts an arm around me and squeezes. “It’s been rough, hasn’t it?”
I look at him and nod. “But I’m done screwing up. I really am. I’m gonna be such a great neighbor, just you—”
Manny’s strangled cry cuts me off. “What the hell!” he bellows. “I’ve got beer all over my ass!”
* * * * *
Eleven o’clock on Sunday night, and I’m taking a shower. It’s the first chance I’ve had all day! I lean my head back into the spray and laugh. My weekends have
definitely
improved. My life is getting more constructively busy by the minute. Which is amazing, really, especially after the beer-ass incident yesterday morning.
How could I have been so stupid? I prepared a picnic on a freshly watered lawn that had been doused by nothing but beer for years. So, all my neighbors had butts wet with cheap beer.
On the upside, though, they all stuck around after that, convinced more than ever that I needed help. And I’m pretty sure that Mia had a downright good time. After all, none of the adults treated her like a second-class kid. Instead, she was one of the crew. She did a hell of a job on my driveway. I hadn’t been able to get all the markings off the pavement, so she set about with some paint, turning the random marks and partial obscenities into flowers and leaves and butterflies. Now the driveway looks like a psychedelic flying carpet from the seventies. It’s awesome.
“An atypical driveway, to be sure,” I said, coming up behind her, “but a gorgeous one.”
She turned and beamed at me. “You think so?”
“You’ve got a talent for making things pretty,” I noted. “Cool. Maybe you can help me work on the interior of my place in the next couple weeks.”