by L A Pepper
“But that’s not the point. You see, this girl that I wanted, who I was trying so hard to get, had a thing about being watched. She was an exhibitionist. A real prodigy for an eighteen-year-old girl, so I told her about this other girl because you see--”
“James.”
“She lived right over there.” He pointed to my house. “And she used to take her big-brained books and sit up on that roof. I used to watch her from my room. It was kinda cute the way she got into those books, with her hair like a wild animal on her head. She would TALK to those books and I always wondered what kind of conversations she could have with books.” He laughed.
“James.” I felt panicked now, but he was caught up in his funny story, a performance for my benefit and didn’t hear it.
“And from her roof, she could see straight down into my garden. So one night, when I knew Phil was up there—”
“James!” He finally heard me but he didn’t understand.
“Don’t worry. Phil is the roof girl, not a boy, it’s short for Philomena. What parents would name their kid that? Anyway, when I told my girl about Phil being on the roof to watch us, I finally got her to come over. She practically ran into my arms. I didn’t even need to ply her with liquor. Knowing Phil was up there drove her WILD, she—”
“This is not a funny story, James.” I pulled out of his arms. I backed away. He had known I was up there. He had known I was in love with him. He thought my hair was an animal and he never would have gone out with me. Of course not.
He finally got it. He stood there looking at me realizing he made a misstep. “N-no. Everything turned out okay. My girl, well, she was only my girl for a month or two, but she grew up to marry a lawyer. And Phil, she… well… I don’t know where she is now. I know she left for college but I lost track of her. And me? Here I am with you, and this is so much better than the fumblings of kids, anyway.”
I shook my head, feeling the fool. Always the fool. “James,” I said, and nothing more. “I can’t.” Then I ran for home without looking at him again, careful to go back through the kitchen and out the front door and around the block, rather than going through the garden’s back gate into my tiny courtyard. I didn’t want him to know that I was the funny little thing who followed him around like a puppy. I was. And I was a fool.
Chapter Three
“You can’t, darling,” Bette said, on the phone, from Italy. It had taken me forever to get her to call me back, time difference and all that. I shouldn’t have taken the call, but it had taken FOREVER. And I could still talk to her at a bar. It wasn’t that loud in here. And I hadn’t been drinking THAT much just to forget Hannah. Who wouldn’t talk to me?
“Bette…” I said. It wasn’t whining. I didn’t whine.
“What is she saying?” Bobby Tanger, my best friend in New York, glad to have me back from the west coast, was hanging over my shoulder, trying to interrupt my call with Bette, but it didn’t matter this was supposed to be a guys’ night and it didn’t matter how much I had already had to drink because Bobby was a TERRIBLE influence. I NEEDED to talk to Bette about her dog walker.
“Shhhh,” I said, pushing Bobby off of my shoulder. “I’m talking to Bette. She’s in Italy!” Oh my god, I was so fucked up. I had not been this fucked up in ages. I blamed Bobby.
“You may not, James. Are you listening to me?” Bette said.
“I’m listening to you sweetheart, but you’re not making any sense, and Bobby says I should screw her senseless because I deserve it.”
“Do not listen to Bobby Tanger, James, he has the morals of an alley cat.”
“Please, Bette. None of us have morals. None of us believe in anything but what a dollar can buy.”
“I believe in love, James. And I think you do too. As for what that reprobate Tanger believes, I can’t say.”
“Love! Since when do we believe in love? That is utter nonsense.”
“Love?” Bobby said, trying to keep up with a conversation he was not part of. “I believe in love. Love is beautiful.”
“Love is not nonsense.” Bette kept on, not having Bobby in her ear. “I believe in love. I’ve seen it. I want it, and I think you do, too. You should have married for love, James, not for that shallow movie star. What were you thinking?”
“Bette, stop. We both know that you’ve found some glorious girl that you can screw senseless. There’s no love there, and I don’t know why you are telling me I can’t have Hannah. I know. I just know that we’d be amazing together.”
“Let him screw the dog walker!” Bobby shouted a bit too loudly over my shoulder into my phone.
“Do NOT listen to Tanger. If you touch Hannah, I will kill you. And I’m coming back on Friday. I will kill you.”
“Why don’t you want me to be happy, Bette?” I was feeling sorry for myself. Sorrier now than I had before when I was just a boring old divorced guy. Divorced from the most beautiful woman in the world. For some reason, that was nothing compared to now. Hannah wouldn’t talk to me. She walked the dogs, and she tried to avoid me and if she couldn’t avoid me she tried to pretend that what happened between us in that garden hadn’t happened. “My heart is broken, Bette. She won’t talk to me.”
“Your heart is not broken, James, you’re horny. And Hannah is NOT a target for your next greatest lay. Are you listening to me? You can’t do that to her.”
“I’m not horny, Bette, I’m in love.”
“Did you just tell your cousin you’re in love with the dog walker?” Bobby asked. “This was not the plan. Waiter! Another round of drinks. No. James, my boy, no. The dog walker is who you fuck to get over your famous and rich and beautiful wife. Love is for when you’ve moved on. THEN you find the perfect girl for you. You need to recover and get laid and spend time with me drinking too much and looking for the right target, not in that order.”
“Are you screwing with Hannah? Darling, I will kill you. I’m not joking. I’m in Italy. I have learned the secrets of Lucretia Borgia. Poison. You won’t know it’s coming.”
“You lie, Bette. You love me too much and you love love, you said so. And I love Hannah.”
Bobby grabbed my hand and thundered into the phone. “He doesn’t love Hannah, he just thinks she’s a hot piece of ass and wants to bang her. Don’t listen to him.”
“Don’t talk about Hannah like that, Tanger,” I warned and pushed him away. Bette was already talking.
“Oh fuck. You’re serious, James, aren’t you? Please. Please do not get obsessed with Hannah. Please. You don’t know what she’s been through. You can’t hurt her again. Her bastard husband nearly destroyed her.”
“What? What did he do to her?” I tried to get Bette’s attention on the phone but it was so hard because Bobby was handing me another scotch and I was in love with Hannah after one day. Bobby wanted me to get laid, but I only wanted Hannah, who Bette said I couldn’t have and I was getting confused.
“It was bad, James. And it’s not my story to tell, but you can’t treat her like one of your girls to screw and discard.”
“Bette, you and I both know that all we do is screw and discard.”
“YEAH BABY!” Bobby yelled. We were talking over each other, catching the end of my statement before I caught on to the beginning of Bette’s response. God, I was a lot drunker than I thought.
“Wait. What did he do to Hannah?” My Hannah. What had her bastard ex done to her?
“Cheers, Jamesy! Cheers!” Bobby was too loud. And too drunk. And he made me drink more scotch.
“I will not allow you to touch Hannah, James. Promise me.”
“I love Hannah.” In my drunk logic, it made all sorts of sense. I was in love with her. It made more sense than reality did; the way I felt about her.
“I will kill you. Darling. I am not joking. Why are you so drunk?”
“Because I’m divorced and alone and I can’t get the woman I love to talk to me. Bobby is doing a public service.”
“You are a mess. Please, if you won�
��t be considerate of Hannah’s feelings, at least realize how complicated it will be to mess with your next-door neighbor.”
“My what?”
“Fine, not next-door neighbor. Back door neighbor? Garden gate neighbor?”
“My what?!”
“This is like the first rule of the ladies’ man or ladies’ lady for that matter. Don’t mess with the women where you live. You know this, darling. Don’t mess with your neighbor.”
“Hannah is my neighbor?”
“Of course she is. I thought you knew that? She lives in the carriage house.”
“Wait. Hannah lives… Hannah lives in the carriage house? Oh god! Her parents owned it?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you recognize her? You grew up with her. James don’t tell me you put the moves on her without recognizing her.”
“Hannah is Phil? My Phil?”
“Who is Phil? She lives in the carriage house. She grew up with you. You didn’t know? How is that possible? Oh, this is even worse. I thought you were obsessed with her because she was your childhood sweetheart or something. You just thought she was the hot dog walker. Put Tanger on the phone. I have something to say to him.”
“Hannah is Phil.”
“Give me Tanger, James. You’re not making sense. He’s got to be more sober than you.”
“What did I do?” My heart stopped. Bobby tried to make another toast so I would drink more of the scotch that had already put me over the edge. Hannah was Phil. Hannah was the awkward girl I used to watch on her roof, reading funny books and talking back to them, wishing she was talking to me. Hannah was Phil, the girl from my childhood who had a pitiful crush on me, who I mocked to my friends but secretly adored. The attention. I adored it. The embarrassment of the awkward girl, I loved it. The adoration.
I was such a dick.
Phil had been in love with me, for years, and I knew it. I had toyed with her.
I danced with Hannah without knowing they were the same person. I wanted Hannah to love me. She was Phil. Did she already love me? Did she still?
The world tilted on its axis.
“CHEERS!” Bobby yelled.
I didn’t drink.
“Hannah is my next-door neighbor?” I said, into the phone, long distance to Bette, all the way in Italy. It mattered.
“Yes, I told you she was. And you are not allowed to screw her over. She’s too vulnerable. And she’s too good with my dumb dogs. Don’t hurt her, darling. She deserves to be treasured.”
She deserved to be treasured, I agreed but couldn’t say. “What did that bastard do to my Hannah.”
“Your Hannah?” Bette said.
“Your Hannah?” Bobby said.
My Hannah. What had he done? How had he hurt her? My Phil. My Hannah. I was so screwed. I was in love. This was not the plan. What was I to do?
Chapter Four
I couldn’t sleep. I hadn’t slept for a while, to be honest. Not since that night with James in the garden, my fears and desires and thoughts and feelings all jumbled up together. It was magic. Magic, just like he said, and I believed the magic. When it turned out to be false, just like every other hope I’d ever had... I couldn’t really get past it. So sleep fled from me. My appetite died. And dogs were the only company I wanted to keep. It was better that way.
Tonight, I’d given up on trying to sleep, and instead, curled up on my couch with some herbal tea. Joni Mitchell playing in the background, and I read Pride and Prejudice, probably for the fiftieth time, no exaggeration. Comfort. Predictability. Familiarity. It was safe.
There was something about the combination of all three that left me wide open. I was consumed with feelings that I thought I’d put away long ago. It hurt, but in a good way, and I knew I was wallowing. It was better to do it now, alone, than it was to have all those emotions right up against the surface when I went to go take care of Cassiopeia and Andromeda, knowing that James was around. Even though he was respecting my wishes not to talk to him, he always happened to be present when I was just trying to do my stupid job.
So now I was here, just me with Lizzie Bennet about to praise Wickham instead of Darcy, and a pounding set up on my door.
I froze. I wasn’t my front door, on the street side where deliveries came, but rather the pounding came from the garden side. Which meant only someone who coming from the Silver’s garden had access. And Bette was still in Italy.
I stared at the page for a few moments, the words swimming in front of my eyes, before putting down my tea and standing.
He was here. And that meant he knew who I was. I didn’t want to face him and see how little he thought of me. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to talk to him, And yet. I wanted him to hold me and I just wanted to cry into his shoulder. The whole situation made me so confused I froze where I was, unable to move at all.
He was still pounding at the door. I saw the door shaking, the curtain shivering from the force of his hand. “Hannah!” he yelled. “I know you’re there. Hannah!”
The sound of my name jolted me out of it.
I went to the door and flung it open. James was standing there, his eyes dark as storm clouds, his hand raised as if he were getting ready to pound again. Before he had a chance to speak, or even take a breath, I raced back across the room and threw myself onto the couch, dragging a blanket off of the back and huddling under it. It was not cold. I was suddenly cold. And afraid. And shaky. A pulled a pillow into my lap and hugged it. Not facing him. It made me feel better if I told myself it wasn’t real. The magic. Him. It would fade. This was just a thing I had to get through to get back to my book and tea and life with dogs, not people.
James stared at me from the door, didn’t even take a step inside. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
Right to the point, then. No beating around the bush. “Why didn’t you tell me you were divorced from your movie star?”
He startled, offended. “Uh, I signed a damn non-disclosure agreement. I broke my contract to tell you. I did tell you, Hannah. Phil. I told the truth. You didn’t.” He stopped, angry, and cocked his head. “Phil,” he said again and took a step into my tiny house that didn’t seem big enough for his broad shoulders and intense charisma. He took up the whole room. “You’re Phil.” He looked like I had betrayed him.
“Hannah. I go by Hannah now. It’s my middle name.” I clung to my cushion like it was some sort of shield against him. Maybe because he wasn’t real. He was a fantasy. A mirage. I was a dog walker in a dinky house.
He nodded. “Hannah.” He closed the door behind him, very carefully, the violent pounding of before gone. He leaned back against it and watched me as I hid behind blankets and pillows. “Nice place you have here. I don’t think I’ve ever been inside in all the time I’ve lived behind you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Get real, James. My living room is scarcely bigger than your bathroom.” Not only was it small, but it was full of thirty years of history. Between my parents and myself, we all liked to collect stuff. Not nice stuff. Just stuff.
“I like the rhinoceros.” He pointed at the stone statue next to me on the side table.
“That’s a dog. One of my clients made it for me in appreciation.” He raised his eyebrows like he didn’t believe me. “For taking care of her dog.” He cocked his head. This was ridiculous. “Because I’m the dog walker.”
He pressed his lips together and shook his head in frustration. “You should have told me who you are.”
I patted the head of my stone dog sculpture. It soothed me. And better to pay attention to that heavy thing than James, who was breaking my heart. “What does it matter, James? Now I know what you think of me. Someone you could never be with, awkward and ridiculous. In love with you so much for so long. A dog running after you. What a joke I must be to you.”
“Hey.” His face fell. “Hey.” He pushed himself off the door and came over to me. “No, that’s not— it’s not— I don’t know, but I didn’t mean it like that.”
; I cocked my head to the side and looked up at him. “I am who I am, James. And I will never pretend to be something I’m not. If you like this, with the boobs, the well-behaved hair. and the straight teeth," I gestured at myself, “It’s just because I got older and learned how to get my hair to curl instead of frizz. I’m older, but I’m just as weird. I own dog rhinoceros statues, I dance with dogs, I’m just as awkward. And now I’m also broken, a failure.”
He shook his head and took one step towards me. I glared at him.
“If you don’t like the girl with the crazy books,” I held up Pride and Prejudice, “who talks to herself on the roof and is stupid about the billionaire next door, then you don’t like me, because that was the best of me, hair like an animal or not.”
He gave half a smile and then wiped it off his face. “But I do like her.” Another step.
I shook my head. “Don’t lie. We were never friends. You used me. You flaunted another girl in front of me. You wanted me to watch you. That is such a violation, James. I never asked for that.”
“Dammit, Hannah,” he sat down next to me and I leaned away, not wanting to be close to him. “I was such a jerk. I was an asshole. You didn’t deserve that. I don’t know why you even liked me. That was the worst of me.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know if there is a best of me, but I’m tired of being an asshole.”
I snorted, not pleased. “You’re still an asshole, James.”
“I am. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I told that story like it was funny. It wasn’t funny. I was trying to impress you with my prowess. Maybe laugh a little at how stupid I was.”
“Well, you fucking didn’t. You laughed at how stupid I was. You broke my heart all over again because I still like you. You weren’t as bad as you think you were. I liked you then, and not just because you were rich and hot and unattainable, although you probably think that’s all it was.”
His eyebrows wrinkled, confused. “No? That’s why everyone else liked me.”
“Well, then they were stupid assholes too. I never bought that act.”