Daddy Next Door

by Tina Lee

  She fanned away his concern. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “It’s a not a toy,” he scolded her.

  “I know. It was silly of me.”

  “It’s Amy, right?”

  Distracted by the sweat running down his chest, she stammered, “Yeah-yeah. That’s-that’s my name.” She was close enough to feel the heat leaving his body. He was truly a fine specimen of a man.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She nodded and thought about what she had wanted to say, but somewhere along transmitting the thoughts into forming words, something had gone wrong.

  “I have to put this little one to bed.” He smiled, the first she had ever seen him smile in the year that she had lived there. He had a gorgeous smile, which left Amy to wonder why a man like him with a smile like that wouldn’t smile more often. It was a disservice to the world—or to her, at least.

  “But daaaad, it’s only nine.”

  He ruffled his son’s hair. “Exactly why you should be in bed.” He turned to Amy, “Goodnight, Amy. I’ll see you around.”

  Yes, you definitely will. “Goodnight.”

  She made a deep sigh as he left the gym. Her heartbeat decreased until she was calm and the fog in her head had cleared. She was now capable of rational thinking. She was disappointed in how she conducted herself around him, mumbling and fidgeting like a silly school girl.

  She had learned her lesson dating good-looking men. It was not worth the stress. David, her ex-boyfriend, was also devilishly handsome and charming, and look out that turned out. The male species had already done enough damage, she wanted no more.

  She went on the treadmill and ran, trying to outrun the thoughts and images of Luke that was replaying in her head, and although she failed to outrun it, it made a good exercise.

  Chapter 2

  W hat was

  she thinking to bounce on the ball like that?

  Luke thought. He stripped naked, threw his sweat-soaked gym clothes into the basket for dirty clothes and went in the shower.

  As he lathered the soap on his chest and abdomen, he thought about the cute, young girl down the hall; Amy. She was too young to be his type. He guessed she was around twenty, which meant she couldn’t even get inside of a nightclub. Luke chuckled at the thought of him taking her to a nightclub and the bouncer refusing to let her in.

  Amy was cute, though. He couldn’t deny that. Her blonde hair and cute butt were nice, but what he really liked was how blue her eyes were. He would get lost in them anytime they happened to run into each other. Her pearly eyes were like the roaring Caribbean Sea, pulling him into its depths and submerging him into its blue.

  Luke stepped out of the shower. His phone, sitting on the tank of the toilet, vibrated. It was a text from the woman he met last night at the grocery store. He decided to enter the dating scene after being out for years. After his wife died three years ago, Luke had put all his time in his son and career. He didn’t remember what it was like to be on a first date, it had been so long.

  He met his late wife when he was nineteen, Josh was born when he was twenty-three, he got married at twenty-four and at twenty-seven the love of his life had perished. It would be useless to describe how gutted he was, for if you have never lost someone you absolutely love with all your heart, then you couldn’t possibly understand.

  He had done enough grieving. It was time for him to start again. He wanted to love and be loved, and most importantly, he wanted Josh to have a mother.

  He checked his phone, and apparently, Jessica wasn’t the type to wait for the three-day rule before messaging someone. She was interested and made her intentions very clear. Luke admired that. He was too old for childish games. If two adults are attracted to each other, then why go around in circles? He set a date for later that week. It was time for him to have fun again.

  While passing his son's room, he realized the lamp was still on. Josh had been waiting for his father to read him a bedtime story.

  “One story, then you’ll go to sleep,” Luke said.

  Josh nodded with a smile. He wrapped himself in the covers and listened eagerly as his father told the tale of a Chinese emperor’s quest for gold. By the time the story was over, Josh’s eyes were half shut and he had one foot into slumber. “He didn’t find the gold,” Josh said, disappointed in the emperor.

  “But he did. It wasn’t physical gold, the gold was in his heart. Love was his wealth.”

  “That’s not gold, dad. You can’t be rich with love.”

  Luke chuckled and looked at his gold before him. “You can.” He turned off the lamp and kissed his son’s forehead. They grow so fast.

  As he was about to close the door, Josh said, “she likes you.”

  “Who?”

  “Amy. She was staring at you.”

  “Doubt it.”

  “Why don’t you ask Amy out? I know you really loved mom, but you deserve to be happy, dad.”

  Great, my kid is a seven year old Dr. Phil, he thought. “Goodnight, Josh.”

  “Night, dad.”

  He sat in front of the TV, his phone in his hand and a glass of milk in the other. He drank a glass every night before bed, and so did Josh. He grew up seeing his dad do it, and his father grew up seeing his dad do it. Luke and Jessica were exchanging messages about their bucket lists, past relationships and what they were looking for.

  Luke had been with only one woman in 11 years, and admittedly, it was embarrassing for him to reveal. Jessica was surprised, and even accused Luke of lying. She didn’t believe it was possible. To her, Luke’s commitment was a rarity, and she wasn’t about to let him slip away.

  Jessica sent him a sexy photo while he brushed his teeth. That was quick, he thought. She posed topless on her bed while smirking at the camera. ‘A preview ;)’ she wrote.

  She sent another picture when he was in bed, this time it was a picture of between her legs, with her hand covering her most sacred part. ‘You’ll see the rest after our date.’ His hand grabbed his manhood unconsciously, and he became aware only when he felt it growing in his palm. She was a tease and he loved it. He had almost forgotten what lust felt like, and well, it was damn exciting.

  Chapter 3

  T he sun warmed

  Amy’s sleeping face until she opened her eyes in the new day. She groaned. The workout she had the night before had left her paralyzed—not really. The muscles in her arm and legs were sore from pushing herself too hard. The running on the treadmill was manageable, the lifting on the 30-pound dumbbells wasn’t so bad, but what really punished her body was the 100 squats she did. It was the price to pay for a nice butt.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and contemplated if there was any need to leave her room today. She didn’t recall making any plans. The less moving about she did today, the better.

  Across from her, taped on her mirror, was the picture of her ex-boyfriend staring at her. “Don’t judge me, okay?” she said to the lifeless picture. It was taken a year earlier on their anniversary, at the concert of their favorite band, The Big Whale. She had dyed her hair purple—the first time she had ever dyed her hair—and had cut her hair into a pixie cut. She sat on David’s shoulder and screamed her lungs out as the lead guitarist played his fiery solo. She was young and in-love. Nothing else in the world mattered. David reminded her of her happier times.

  “Amy!” Brenda shouted from the kitchen. “I know you’re awake. Get your butt in here and eat some breakfast.”

  There was a time when Amy refused to eat at all. Shattered and broken, she would rather succumb to starvation. And why bother? she wondered. Eating would never fill the emptiness inside. Now, months later, she was in a better place mentally. Amy had regained her love for food, especially Brenda’s cooking, and her taste buds rejoiced for having flavor into their lives again.

  “Be there in a sec.”

  Amy took the picture of her ex and squeezed it between her thumb and index finger, tempted to rip the picture in half, and in doi
ng so, she hoped to destroy the memories of him.

  She couldn’t, and for that reason, she cried. She allowed herself a minute—and not a second more—to let her tears flow then she wiped her eyes and washed her face. The memories of him had been deeply rooted, and to destroy the picture would mean to inflict damage upon herself.

  Brenda’s French toast brought a smile to her face. Magical was the only word she had to describe it. Amy closed her eyes and slowly chewed, savoring the taste of the cinnamon and vanilla.

  Brenda’s smile was even bigger, spreading across her round face. Amy’s pleasure gave her pleasure. “What do you say we go watch a movie tonight? Then we could go to a bar after.”

  Amy’s eyes lit up. “Sounds good.” Then her eyebrows dropped. “I’ll have to skip the bar, though. I’m going to the gym tonight.”

  “You’re serious about the whole gym thing, uh?”

  “Yeah. It’s summer. What better time to start again?”

  “No other reason why you’re going?” Brenda smirked.

  Amy laughed. “Luke has nothing to do with it. I just want to have a nice body. That’s all.”

  Brenda pulled a chair and sat beside Amy, staring at her intently, studying her, looking for any subtle change in her expressions. “So you’re saying that you don’t like Luke?”

  Amy nearly spat out her orange juice. “Where is this coming from?”

  “Answer me. You like him or not?” Brenda leaned closer, too close for Amy’s comfort, which was her intention.

  Amy, feeling the pressure of Brenda eyes staring at her, mumbled, “Maybe. He’s hot, okay? Is that what you wanted me to say? He’s super sexy and I like looking at him.”

  “My little Amy is finally moving on.” Brenda pretended to wipe a tear from her eye.

  There was a knock on the door. Amy and Brenda looked at each other in silence, wondering who it could be. “I’ll get it,” Brenda said, thinking that it could be Luke.

  Amy quickly rose to her feet. “No, I’ll get it.” She hoped it wasn’t Luke because then Brenda would tease her all day and night.

  “Amy, sit and eat your breakfast. I’ll get it.”

  “I’m done eating, anyway.” They raced towards the door with Brenda in the lead. At the last moment of the race, Amy surpassed Brenda, twisted the door handle and swung it open…only to find Josh standing at the door with an action figure in his hand and a frown on his face.

  “Mrs. Huckleberry needs your help,” Josh said, softly.

  Mrs. Huckleberry was Josh’s neighbor and babysitter. Josh would go next door to Mrs. Huckleberry when his father left for work in the mornings. She was one of the first few people to move into the apartment complex. Her seniority, wisdom and freshly baked cookies made her everyone’s grandma. Her husband, Mr. Huckleberry; a war veteran, passed away last year, and since then, it was just Mrs. Huckleberry and her cat, Mr. Finch.

  Brenda and Amy wasted no time in rushing to the aid of their unofficial grandma. “Mrs. Huckleberry, is everything okay?” Amy asked. The house smelled of cookies and melted chocolate. Mrs. Huckleberry placed the tray of cookies down on the kitchen counter, and before she explained to Brenda and Amy her little dilemma, she insisted the girls take a cookie first.

  Mrs. Huckleberry had short grey hair, wore glasses with thick lenses and always wore the nicest blouses. She was a nurse for most of her life, had three children; two girls and one boy, and an avid watcher of the television series House. Dr. House’s comical pessimism was the best part. She once saw Meryl Streep crying in a bathroom of a gas station thirty years ago. No one believed her. Meryl Streep would never use a dirty gas station bathroom, the non-believers said.

  She made everyone sit down and then poured Brenda and Amy a glass of milk, which led Amy to believe that her dilemma wasn’t much of a dilemma at all.

  “Mr. Finch is missing,” Mrs. Huckleberry said with worry in her eyes.

  “Who is Mr. Finch?” Brenda asked.

  “Her cat,” Amy answered.

  “He’s more than just a cat. He’s a special gift from my late husband and a great companion.”

  “I have cats back home. They would usually walk about the neighborhood and return when they’re ready.” Brenda’s cats, Gemini and Blue, were notorious thieves in her childhood neighborhood. You should dare not blink when they’re around, or else you will find that your meat has disappeared!

  “Mr. Finch has always been present for his breakfast. Something must be wrong.”

  Amy knew what was being asked of her and decided to lend a helping hand. “We’ll find Mr. Finch for you, Mrs. Huckleberry.”

  Mrs. Huckleberry smiled. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without him.”

  Amy, Brenda, and Josh went off on an adventure to find the missing cat. First, they knocked on Mr. Pecherov’s door, a Ukrainian immigrant who had moved in only some months ago.

  “Hello, what can I do for you?” he said in a thick, mean Ukrainian accent. Thick chest hair protruded from beneath his thin, white tank top. A gold chain with a pendant of the cross hung around his neck. He had a bald head and a hard face with a scar on his left cheek.

  “We’re looking for Mr. Finch,” Josh spoke up, doing what the intimidated girls were afraid to do.

  Mr. Pecherov looked down at Josh then back at Amy. “I don’t know this man.”

  “He’s a cat,” Amy said. She glanced at Brenda, and in that quick second, they decided it was best to move on from this guy.

  “What?” Mr. Pechecrov asked.

  “Mr. Finch is a white cat.”

  “What kind of name is that for a cat?” He smiled, displaying his bright, gold canine tooth. “Americans are so funny.”

  “Well, if you see a white cat around, just let us know,” Amy laughed, nervously.

  “Yes, my friends. Will do,” he said then shut the door.

  As they walked away, Josh said, “That man gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

  They knocked on several more doors and asked around but no one had seen the cat. Amy was starting to lose hope that they would ever find the cat. There were only a few possibilities: he was on this floor somewhere or he went into the elevator and was another floor—or worst, on the ground floor, where he could have easily gone outside.

  Josh sat on the floor, his head resting on his knees. He mumbled something.

  “Wait!” Amy said to Brenda, who was a few feet ahead and had not realized Josh had stopped. Amy sat beside him, thinking how much he resembled his father. He was a very handsome kid. It was sad to see him so unhappy. “What’s wrong?”

  He rubbed his eyes and spilled his broken words. “It’s m-m-my fault Mr. Finch ran way.” Tears ran down his adorable little face. “Mrs. Huckleberry always said I should lock the door when going outside. I forgot to close the door today and that’s why he got away.”

  Amy opened her arms and he buried his face in her chest, crying and sniffing. “We all make mistakes, Josh. No one is perfect.” She kissed his head. “All we can do is learn from our mistakes.”

  “But what if we never find him?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about Mr. Finch. Cats are very smart. We’ll find him. I promise.”

  He removed his face from her chest and looked at her with his red eyes. “I don’t like when people make promises. Dad promised me mom would be okay, and now she’s gone.” He stood, wiped his face with his shirt, and then walked away.

  “What was that about?” Brenda asked, puzzled by a crying Josh and an upset Amy.

  They searched the all the lower floors until they were on the ground floor. They were becoming less hopeful, and Amy was worried she had made a promise that she couldn’t keep. Maybe Josh was right, and people shouldn’t make promises, especially ones that seemed out of their control.

  Amy insides were twisting with an awful feeling. Out of all the promises she had ever made, this was the one she wanted to fulfill the most. Had she had known how much it would mean to Josh, she would have thought twice befor
e making it. It would break her heart to disappoint Josh after what he had been through. She couldn’t imagine losing her mother as an adult, much less a child.

  Their adventures took them outside their apartment building. They walked around the block, checking the alleyway and the dumpsters. While checking the foul-smelling dumpster, a cat sprung from the trash with what seemed to be a half-eaten burger patty, startling the women but not the little boy. He had eyes filled with hope. “Mr. Finch?” Josh asked. The cat, grey with stripes of black on its sides, ran down the alleyway with its lunch. His hope was gone within a second, and his sympathetic hazel eyes fell upon Amy, wanting a hug but not quite sure how to ask for one. He didn’t have to; Amy pulled him into her arms and planted a kiss on his head.

  “Hey, why don’t we go get some ice cream and then we resume the search,” Amy suggested. “It’s hot today.”

  “Great idea! I could really use some ice-cream in this heat.” Brenda fanned herself. She didn’t care much for an Ice-cream, but she wanted Josh to cheer up, and what better way to cheer up a seven-year-old?

  Josh tore off the wrapper off the SpongeBob icicle and marveled at SpongeBob’s edible eyes looking back at him. It almost looked too good to eaten…almost. Josh bit into its cold, tasty head, and it refreshed him greatly in the summer heat.

  Amy’s plan had worked. He was smiling so wide that Amy, for the first time, realized that he was missing a tooth. Josh looked even more adorable now.

  After everyone had cooled down with icy delights, they resumed their search for Mr. Finch, circling their block again with no success. “I think it’s time we head back,” Brenda surrendered to the wrath of the sun. “We’ve done all that we can.”

  “But what about Mr. Finch?” Josh’s lips quivered. “We can’t give up on him.”

  “We tried, Josh.” Amy knelt beside him, looking into his puppy dog eyes. “Later, when the sun’s down, I’ll continue to search. I made a promise, remember?”

  Josh nodded. He had a hint of skepticism, but ultimately, he believed her. He found assurance in her voice. The way she was looking at him, with empathy and concern, was new to him. If his mother was alive, he imagined that this was how she would look at him. An overwhelming yearn for his mother awoke inside his little body. He missed her—the few memories he had of her. He hugged Amy and cried into her blouse, letting all his built up emotions flow from his eyes like a river.