Neighborly Love

by Christine L'Amour

  Amy glanced up at her, a hand rising to her cheek. She couldn’t tell if it felt warm or not.

  “Did you remember sunscreen?” Amy shot back, eyeing the faint pink color of Meghan’s nose.

  “Of course I did!” the woman exclaimed. Amy couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth. “I’ll lend you some, next time. What will it be, two or three days from now? I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other while you fill in for Brenda. How is she, by the way?”

  “Fine,” Amy muttered, going back to her fern. “She’s off in Europe, where her neighbors are probably nice and don’t party all night long during the weekends.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “What do you have against parties?” Meghan asked, sounding honestly curious.

  Amy shot her a baffled look. “I don’t have anything against parties, Meghan, I just have many things against neighbors who blast annoying pop songs into my ears at two in the morning!”

  “I have it all cleared with the administration!”

  “I have no idea how you managed that,” Amy said with a groan. “Isn’t it against the law? I’m pretty sure it’s against the law.”

  “Hey, we’ve reached an agreement. No one in my floor or the floors above or below has young children and I pay more than the others—”

  “But it’s still against the law?”

  “What the law doesn’t see…” Meghan said with a smile and a wink.

  Amy found herself smiling back and twisted her lips so Meghan wouldn’t catch it, though she though Meghan caught it anyway. She couldn’t help it—Meghan was charming and beautiful and with no job and no classes, Amy had found herself without many opportunities to make friends.

  If Amy stopped holding onto her grudge for a moment, she would admit to herself that if she were invited to the party, she wouldn’t mind it happening at all.

  “There’ll be another party this Friday, you know,” Meghan said almost innocently. “Better get yourself some earplugs. I’m just curious—who’s your least favorite singer?”

  “I’ll blast gospel songs the entire night long,” Amy hissed, pointing a finger in her neighbor’s face.

  Meghan laughed. “Why don’t you come? Bring something to drink and don’t die of alcohol poisoning on my couch and everything will be all right.”

  “I’m not going to your party,” Amy said, affronted, as if she hadn’t just been thinking about that.

  “All right,” Meghan said with a smile, and turned to walk away.

  ***

  Amy stood in front of the full-length mirror in her room with her hands on her hips.

  “This is stupid,” she said out loud even though she was alone in the room.

  She had braided her messy brown hair back, which showed off her nice cheekbones and the scattering of moles she had on the right side of her face and changed her sweatpants for a denim miniskirt. It looked nice with her simple red hoodie, she thought, beautiful but like she wasn’t trying hard to impress.

  “This is a look that shows off your legs, but still says, I’m not putting effort into this,” she said to herself. “You just put on a skirt and left with not a care in the world, this is what this outfit says.”

  She admired herself in the mirror some more, head tilting from one side to the other as if that would give her an insight into her outfit and gave up. She threw herself back on the huge bed, which she was considering stealing when she went back home, and curled her body around a pillow. It was too cold for a miniskirt anyway. What had she been thinking?

  She dialed Chelsea’s number on her phone and brought it to her ear.

  “Chelsea,” she said morosely when the call connected. “There’s this neighbor of Brenda’s who throws these stupid parties almost every week and I've been complaining a lot about them but then she invited me, and I put on a miniskirt. What do you think?”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “So, how’s the job search going?” Chelsea asked instead, her tone of voice that of someone who had tried and then failed at understanding what on Earth Amy had just tried to tell her.

  Amy groaned. “I’m not talking about that! I’m taking about Brenda’s hot neighbor who invited me to a party, and I think I should wear a miniskirt, but maybe that wouldn’t go over well because it’s winter and she’ll think I’m stupid, or maybe I shouldn’t go at all. Do you think I should go?”

  “No,” Chelsea said slowly. “Who even is this person? Look, it’s late. Go to sleep, wake up early, have a nice breakfast, start your day well. You were never one for partying even when you were in college.”

  “I could be into partying,” Amy muttered, but she already knew she would be staying home. Maybe that was for the best, because then she would be able to deliver on the promise she had made a few days before.

  “You’re not,” Chelsea said. Amy could almost hear the eye roll. “Don’t stay up playing your video games and remember that you told me you’d use your time there wisely.”

  Amy thought about all the time she had spent watching TV and napping on this huge bed.

  “I am using my time wisely,” she told her friend. “Fine, I’ll hang up now, and not go to Meghan’s party, and tell Brenda off for not telling me about her stupid hot neighbor who won’t let me sleep on Fridays.”

  “Atta girl,” Chelsea said, then hung up.

  Amy let her arm and her phone fall back on the bed and sighed. She wondered what Meghan would think of her not going.

  Chapter Four

  Meghan was disappointed Amy didn’t go.

  Though she wouldn’t say so on pain of death if asked, she actually waited for her neighbor to arrive for hours before giving up. She had been so sure Amy would show up, to mock her if nothing else, or maybe to eat some food and make pointed comments about the music. Carlos noticed her wandering attention and asked her about it, but Meghan evaded his questions during the party (which wasn’t so hard, what with the loud music and the alcohol) and they managed to drop off to sleep without talking about it.

  The party was smaller compared to most, since many people had been too tired to come. It meant that no one slept over aside from Carlos, who was her best friend and often did it anyway, and so the two were the only ones to wake up on the next morning at seven AM precisely when gospel music started being blasted directly into their ear canals.

  Meghan woke up like someone had landed a punch on her face, a despairing moan falling from her lips. The gospel music made her feel like someone tiny and very vengeful was drilling holes into her skull, and she held her head as if it would help with anything. She regretted all the shots she had done the other night. She regretted so much.

  Carlos let out a string of letters that sounded desperate and furious and confused, though he was in too much pain and hungover to form actual words. Meghan blearily blinked her eyes open and squinted at the alarm clock on her nightstand. It read seven AM. Meghan picked it up.

  She’s two hours late, she thought to herself. She said she would start playing it at five instead.

  A smile tugged at her lips and Meghan was powerless to stop it from growing. She laughed, dropping the alarm clock to her carpet when she clutched at her head—laughing was a mistake when one was suffering a headache as bad as hers—but she kept on laughing, suddenly delighted. Her mirth came directly from her belly, simple and joyful, the kind she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  “What are you laughing about?” Carlos asked with a groan.

  “Amy,” Meghan said with a grin, as if that were enough for him to understand everything. “She’s that new neighbor,” she explained when he sent her a sour look. “She threatened to do this if I threw another party, but I didn’t think she actually would. Wow, this is actually making me reconsider ever ingesting alcohol again.”

  “She should be arrested,” Carlos moaned. “Arrested and then killed. Capital crime. This should be a federal, capital, death penalty crime.”

  “We’re meeting later, we’re o
n garden duty together,” Meghan said with a sharp smile, managing to open one eye to squint at her friend. “I’m going to give her so much shit for this.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “This isn’t some kind of convoluted lesbian flirting, is it?” Carlos asked.

  “I hope it is,” Meghan said with a sigh. “She’s the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

  “Meghan, if this happens again, I’m going to go across the hall and murder her,” Carlos said in a bland voice. “I don’t care if I go to jail—”

  “Aw, stop complaining!” Meghan said, shoving him a little; both of them whined at the movement. “You wish you had cute women blasting gospel songs at seven in the morning just to bother you. The only cute woman in your life is me.”

  “The saddest thing,” Carlos said with a forlorn look in his eyes, “is that you’re right.”

  Meghan patted his shoulder sympathetically, and only smiled when he swung a pillow into her face.

  ***

  Amy was already crouching by the strawberries and watering them delicately when Meghan arrived at the greenhouse. The sight struck Meghan with its sweetness: Amy’s cheeks were red with sunburn and freckles Meghan hadn’t seen before littered her face softly, as if still too shy to make an appearance. Her smile was small and satisfied. Meghan’s own lips stretched by their own volition.

  “A part of me thought you wouldn’t be here,” she said as she approached slowly, hands on her pockets. Amy startled, turning to look at her. “After all, a lesser woman would have prepared to murder you after what you did to me.”

  Amy stood up and crossed her arms. Her smile turned smug, though Meghan could see some hesitancy there still, as if she weren’t completely sure Meghan would forgive her the prank.

  Meghan had walked up to her side and was peering down at the strawberries now too. She squinted down at them—the leaves looked more yellow than they had last time she had been here. She hoped her black thumb hadn’t started leaving its mark on them yet.

  “It’s not like I didn’t tell you I would do it,” Amy countered. “I can see by the giant bags under your eyes that you were up partying late and didn’t get much sleep before I woke you up.”

  Meghan winced. She hadn’t had the mind to put on make-up, but she hadn’t wanted Amy to see those either.

  “Those are more because of work,” Meghan admitted without looking at her. And my father’s calls, she thought to herself, but didn’t say out loud. She didn’t want to think about her father bothering her for money, not now under the sun with a beautiful woman there to distract her from him.

  “Oh,” Amy said, the word a bit strangled.

  When Meghan turned to look at her, Amy looked torn between wanting to apologize for cutting sleep hours from Meghan she already wasn’t getting and widening her grin into something even more smug. It made Meghan laugh, which startled an answering giggle from Amy, the sound of it so adorable that Meghan wanted to do something stupid like kiss her.

  She had really wanted Amy to go to her party.

  “Come on,” Amy said after a moment, shaking her head as if shaking a thought out of it, “let’s get to work, and while we water the plants you can tell me what it is you do for a living.”

  “Wait!” Meghan blurted out without meaning to, her hand snaking out to grab Amy’s elbow before she could move away from her. Meghan immediately let go of her, an embarrassed flush rising to her cheeks, and though she hadn’t planned on saying anything right now, she wasn’t a woman who had gotten this far by chickening out.

  “What?” Amy asked, a bit hesitant.

  “I… I missed you at my party,” Meghan said, a bit blunter than she had wanted to be. Amy seemed surprised—either at the fact or that Megan had admitted to it. “I guess I hadn’t expected you to go, but I wanted you to anyway. I know we don’t really know each other, and we’ve mostly spent our time bickering but… it’s actually fun. I mean, you made me laugh. I hadn’t laughed in a long time.”

  “You’re welcome,” Amy said, a bit strangled.

  It brought up another laugh from Meghan, because how charming was it that Amy’s nervousness made her blurt out, you’re welcome? Very.

  “If I threw a smaller party this week, would it be more likely you would come?” Meghan asked, taking a step forward.

  “Are you, like, officially inviting me?” Amy asked after a beat of silence, tearing her brown eyes away like she couldn’t bear to look at Meghan anymore. The sudden shyness was cute, Meghan thought, and funny on a woman who had blasted gospel songs into the morning to bother Meghan just a few days before.

  “Sure,” Meghan said with a grin. “I’ll send you an official, hand-written invitation this very day if that’s what you want.”

  “Don’t mock me,” Amy groaned, batting a hand against Meghan’s arm. “I’ve never really been to a party. I almost went to yours, but… Well, I’ll go to this one if you’re really inviting me and not planning on humiliating me or something as payback for the gospel songs.”

  “I wouldn’t do that!” Meghan swore, because she had another type of revenge planned. Her voice came out hopeful: “So you’ll come?”

  Amy looked at her from under her eyelashes, eyes suddenly very dark.

  “Yeah, I’ll go.”

  ***

  Maybe someone else would have agonized during the three days it took for the next Friday, and thus the party, to arrive, but Meghan wasn’t nervous. Instead of a source of anxiety, Meghan was actually looking forward to it. While she sat on her couch and worked until her wrists and her fingers ached, and as she ignored phone calls from her father and many other people, part of her mind was occupied with the thought that she could hold on, because when Friday came, something good was going to happen.

  She didn’t think that she and Amy would hook up, exactly, because Amy didn’t look like the sort of person to hook up—she had said she had never gone to a party, for God’s sake—but Meghan was pretty sure Amy and she had been flirting a lot last time they saw each other, and that something would happen.

  She really threw a small party, to the surprise of her usual guests. It was just she and Carlos and some mutual friends of theirs, the music low enough not to bother the neighbors, deal or not. Amy was fashionably late: when she arrived, all others were already there, some of them playing poker and another few playing beer pong in the corner. Meghan, who was with the poker group, shot up immediately when the doorbell rang, to the laughter of her friends.

  She shushed them and made her way to the door.

  The first thing she noticed was that Amy was wearing a miniskirt. She was wearing a simple hoodie on top of it, giving her a more casual look, even though her face had enough make-up on it to hide the freckles Meghan had loved last time they had seen each other. That miniskirt, though. Meghan couldn’t stop looking at her long, long legs.

  “Hi,” Amy said, a bit bashful.

  “Hey,” Meghan greeted with a grin, dragging her eyes up. “Come in, we’re playing poker if you want to join. Do you want a beer?”

  “Sure,” Amy said, following her into the apartment. Her eyes roamed around curiously as they walked toward the kitchen, where Meghan got two beers from the fridge. She handed one over to Amy, their fingers brushing as she did so. Amy looked at her, then she turned away with a blush. Meghan smiled, taking a step closer to her.

  “Hey,” she said softly, as it they hadn’t just greeted each other. “Thanks for coming. You know, maybe it’s good for me to throw smaller parties like this. I won’t be so hungover I’ll barely be able to work tomorrow.”

  “That’s always a bonus,” Amy said dryly, glancing up at her. She opened her beer but didn’t bring it to her lips. “I still can’t believe you own a publishing house,” she continued. “It’s hard to imagine you as this serious business owner.”

  “Because I party?” Meghan asked with a sharp smile. “Honestly, throwing parties in my own house is the tamest thing I could do. Someone else
would just be going to nightclubs.”

  “Why don’t you go to nightclubs, then?” Amy asked, curious.

  Meghan shrugged, taking a swing of her beer. “It’s not really my cup of tea. I prefer to stay here and play poker and annoy my neighbors.”

  Amy rolled her eyes, her face taking up a playfully irritated expression. “It’s working.”

  “You gave as good as you got!”

  There was a pause. Amy looked at her as if she wanted to say something, but didn’t quite know what shape the words would take when they escaped from her mouth.

  “You said you laughed,” she said at last.

  Meghan’s smile turned soft. “I did,” she said. “I was lying there, barely awake and terribly hungover, laughing like an idiot. I don’t know if you were just bored or truly, really annoyed with me, but people usually don’t play along like that, you know? Anyone else would have just gone to complain to administration.”

  “I was bored,” Amy admitted, voice lowering. “I hadn’t gone to your party, so I didn’t want to do nothing. It felt like I just… had to do something.”

  “Just never do that again, because I will literally die.”

  Amy laughed quietly, bringing her beer up again to half-hide behind it. Meghan took another step forward until the tips of their shoes touched, until Amy was close enough for Meghan to feel the heat coming off of her body. It was really too cold for Amy to be wearing such short skirts, but Meghan was so glad she had done it.

  She set a hand on Amy’s hip and Amy leaned forward, toward her, like a flower to the sun.

  “Meghan,” Amy said, a flush rising to her face and coloring it red, “I don’t want to… to do anything with so many other people around.”

  Meghan widened her eyes innocently. “Wait, what is it you thought we were going to do?”

  Amy grimaced and took a step back, but Meghan laughed and followed her, setting her beer on the counter beside her so she could cup the woman’s hip with her other hand.

  “I’m sorry, I was just joking,” she said with a grin. “How about just kissing? We don’t have to do anything tonight, you know. I didn’t invite you for that.”