Balance Check

by M. E. Carter

  “It’s like things are starting to fall into place, ya know?” I say out loud, even though I’m really talking to myself. “The house, the job, Libby… I prayed every day for the circumstances to change and now, here we are.”

  We watch as a car drives up next door. I haven’t seen this car before. It’s a smaller four-door. Briefly, I wonder what it’s doing when the driver’s side opens and a familiar face steps out.

  “Oh shit!” I yell and drop to the floor so she won’t see me. Joie stands above me, looking like I’ve lost my damn mind. “What are you doing?” I practically screech. “She’s going to see you!”

  “She can’t see me through the blinds, Greg,” she argues and turns back to the window.

  “You don’t know that!”

  “Yes I do. She can see my eyes, that’s it.”

  “Joie come on…” I plead. She sighs like I’m a nuisance.

  “You moved into the house next door to her, but you don’t want her to see you? That makes no sense.”

  “Not yet,” I hiss, grabbing at her shirt, trying to pull her down to the floor. She ignores me and keeps spying on my new neighbor.

  “Ooh, you never told me what a looker Elena is. She’s pretty.”

  “Would you fucking hit the deck?”

  “Where are the kids?” she asks, still ignoring my hysteria. “I wanna see what my future nieces look like.”

  “You’re killing me, Joie,” I groan. “I need some time to figure out a game plan.”

  The blinds snap shut and Joie puts her hands on her hips, looking at me like I’m even more nuts than she already thought. “You mean you plan to keep this a secret? For how long?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Greg, you moved back here for her.”

  “No, I moved back for Peyton.”

  She waves her hand, cutting me off. “And then you bought the house next door to Elena so you could be close to her. You keep saying things are finally falling together, but you’re gonna wuss out when it’s finally go-time? That’s not the brother I know.” She turns back to the window and looks back out.

  She’s right. I can’t hide from Elena. But I don’t know anything about her life anymore. It’s been six months since I’ve talked to her. She could be dating, or engaged. Hell, she could be married. I don’t know.

  “Oh she’s looking this way. I should wave. Hi, Elena!” Sure enough, my asshole sibling begins waving which causes me to panic. I grab the hem of her shirt one last time and yank as hard as I can. She doesn’t see it coming so she immediately falls off balance and lands on top of me with a thud.

  “Ahh!” she yells. “What is the matter with you?”

  “Can you give me a minute to get my bearings straight before you start forcing the issue?” Quickly, I reach up and grab the drawstrings, closing the blinds. “I don’t want to assume she’s going to run back into my arms and make a fool out of myself if she’s already moved on.”

  Joie looks at me as she resituates her now disheveled ponytail, understanding dawning on her face. “You’re really nervous, aren’t you?”

  I purse my lips. I hate admitting weakness to my older sister. But I still need her help getting this place set up, so I don’t have much of a choice. “Yes.”

  “I’ve never seen you nervous around a woman before. Not even Libby.”

  “I know.”

  “You really do love her.”

  I nod.

  She breaks out into laugher and starts singing. “Greg and Elena sitting in a tree…”

  “Ohmygod, would you stop?” She doesn’t.

  “K-i-s-s-i-n-g!”

  “Joie!” I snap my hand over her mouth, cutting her off. “This is not funny. I got Peyton moved, got my old job back, got a house. I still have to think the rest of it through, ok?”

  She raises one eyebrow at me. That either means she thinks it’s a given that this is going to work out, or it means she’s about to punch my lights out. Either way, I remove my hand from her face.

  She pushes a strand of dark hair out of her face and clears her throat, sitting criss-cross in front of me. “I’m here for a few more days. And I’ll do my best not to race over there and introduce myself, ok?” She interrupts me when I start to respond. “But, we can’t do this every time she opens her front door. Have you ever seen a forty-one-year old woman hit the deck? It’s worse than if I tried to drop it like it’s hot. And the last time I did that, my pants ripped straight down the middle.”

  A laugh escapes me. “Seriously?”

  “Ask Isaac. He was there. It sounded like an explosion in the back of my pants.”

  I smile and shake my head. “I know I’m being ridiculous. I’m just not sure how to break the news to her. How do you say to someone, ‘I know we broke it off completely six months ago because it was too painful, but surprise! I’m your new neighbor now!’?”

  “You really don’t think she’ll be happy to see you? From everything you’ve said, it sounds like she loves you.” Joie taps her fist on my knee gently a couple of times. I put my hand over hers. Even though she’s obnoxious, she’s still my anchor when things get rough. She’s a good sister that way.

  “I don’t know. Just give me a couple of days to sort it out, ok?” I give her a stern look. “No going over there and making BFFs yet. Promise?”

  She huffs, but nods. “Fine. But I will meet her at least once before I go home, no matter what. Back at you promise?”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine. Like I could stop you anyway.”

  She responds with an evil, big-sister grin.

  I’m so screwed.

  “You’re gonna go, right?”

  I knew that would be Callie’s response when I told her about Tripp. She’s been supportive of my feelings since Greg left, but it was inevitable that she would pounce the second there was even a possibility that I would get laid again. It’s exhausting having someone live vicariously through you.

  “I don’t know, Callie.” I check my hair in the rearview mirror while I wait for the light to turn green. Jordan, my hair dresser slash Callie’s husband’s sister’s niece, added a bunch of lowlights to my highlights the other day. I still can’t decide if I like it or if I look like a zebra. “He’s nice and all. He’s just so young.”

  “Listen.” I can practically hear her waving her hand around, getting ready to make a point. “Once you’re old enough to drink, age doesn’t matter anymore.”

  I roll my eyes and take my foot off the brake, moving along with the rest of the shmucks trying to make our way away from the office to home for the weekend. “I’m going to respectfully disagree based on the fact that I’ve been to my fair share of frat parties, and legal drinking at twenty-one is way different than legal drinking at forty-one. Ask the porcelain gods.”

  “Who said I want you to drink with the guy? I’d just like you to get laid.”

  See? Pouncing like the horny lioness she is.

  “I’m not going to say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind,” I admit, as I turn into my neighborhood. “He sure did flash me his, um, assets today when he walked out of the room.”

  “Mmmm…. Put his hands in his pockets so his pants would pull tight, did he?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “I love that move. It’s like a mating call for millennials.”

  “And therein lies the big problem. I’m not even close to being a millennial.”

  She sighs in the overly theatrical way that says she’s frustrated I’m not seeing her point. Oh, I see it alright. I just don’t know if I want that point in my bed quite yet.

  “Look, I know how to make you feel better about this whole thing,” she tries again. This ought to be good. “The cougar range.”

  “The what?”

  “The cougar range,” she says again. I wait for a few seconds, humoring her and letting her have a weird dramatic build up before I finally bite.

  “And what is the cougar range?”

  “I’m glad you
asked.” I shake my head and look to the heavens, also known as the ceiling of my car, silently praying for patience with my exasperating best friend. “Cougar range is a mathematical equation to determine if someone is in the right dating age range for you.”

  “And what, pray tell, is the equation?”

  “Ok first, you need to stop working at a school. You’ve used the words ‘therein’ and ‘pray tell’ in the course of this one conversation and it’s freaking me out.”

  I look up again, this time being silently thankful my new car has Bluetooth technology so I don’t get frustrated and throw my phone.

  “Oh hey look, I’m home.” I’m not. But if she thinks I am, she’ll hurry up and get to the point. It’s been a long day. I need to stop peopling for a while.

  “Fine! I’ll hurry. The cougar range is half your age plus seven.”

  “Wait… so you mean it’s socially appropriate to date anyone who is at least twenty-seven?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Tripp is twenty-five,” I remind her. “He’s still too young.”

  “Close enough.”

  “Well, that’s up for debate still, but I really am pulling into my driveway.” Lies. I’m pulling onto my street. “I need to go relieve my mom from babysitting duty.”

  “What’s the rush? She only has Max. Max is easy.”

  “She had everyone this afternoon. The girls had early release for teacher in-service day, so they went home at noon.”

  “Oooh. Now it makes sense why you’re openly talking about having sex with some whipper snapper.”

  I gape at her, even though she can’t see it. “I am not! You’re the one who brought it up.”

  “Pfft. Semantics. Anyway…”

  Seriously. I’m too tired for this. Especially now that I see a U-Haul in the driveway next to mine. Well, this is unexpected.

  “… are we still on for the park tomorrow?”

  Even with me going back to work, we still try to do playdates every other week. Instead, we go on the Saturdays I have the girls, and I bring all three with me now. The park is a little more crowded than it used to be on Thursdays, but extra kids means more friends for Fiona and Maura to play with.

  “Yeah, I was planning on it.” As I pull into my driveway, I look for a car, or something. Anything that will give me an insight into who these new neighbors are. The sweet old man who used to live there died in his sleep about three months ago. We didn’t see him often, but Mr. Blitman was always smiling when we did cross paths. He lived alone, but he decorated for every single holiday. Christmas was his favorite. And his house was really popular on Halloween, too. Probably because he gave out the full-sized candy bars.

  I’ve been wondering who bought the house since the “sold” sign went up last week. Whoever it is, they must have paid cash for them to be moving in less than two weeks after it went on the market.

  “Do you mind if I invite my friend Deborah?”

  “Who? What?” I check out the house through my car window but don’t see anyone going in and out. Hmm. I wonder if they’re done already. That was pretty fast.

  “Deborah. My new RowRow Apparel teammate? You’re not even listening to me are you?”

  I snap back into the conversation. “Sorry, no. I’m eyeing the house next door. Someone’s moving in, and I’m trying to figure out who.”

  “Mr. Blitman’s house?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow. That was fast. I hope mandatory distribution of full-sized candy bars was written into their sales contract or there are going to be some very angry children on Halloween.”

  Climbing out of my car, I stretch my arms and legs. “Leave your eggs at home, lady. I’m not bailing you out of jail for egging his house if they don’t give in to your chocolate cravings.”

  Glancing again at the house, I barely register Callie talking about me being a buzzkill. I’m too busy noticing someone peeking through the blinds. Hmm.

  “But, yeah, that’s totally cool if Deborah comes. As long as she doesn’t think we’re too crazy, I’m good.”

  “Don’t even worry about that. She’s as crazy as we are.”

  “Maybe we should warn the people at the park.”

  She laughs. “Maybe so. Ok, go take care of those sweet girls. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Bye.” I shut my phone off and grab my purse and bag off the passenger seat before locking all my car doors and heading toward my front door. As I glance at the house next door again, the person peeking out suddenly disappears. That was odd.

  Seconds later, the blinds snap closed.

  I just shake my head. I can pretty much guarantee Callie won’t be getting her beloved candy bar this coming October. Looks like weird neighbors moved in.

  Fantastic.

  No one would ever say that I’m very spatially aware. I’m the person that either tries to shove way too much food into a small Tupperware container, or the container only ends up half full and the food rots because of all the extra air. My mother gives me grief about it all the time.

  So I should have known better than to try and fit a cooler into the back of my new car. The trunk is a lot smaller than the SUV I had, but did I bother to notice that before trying to shove the Igloo in? Nope. And now it’s stuck.

  “Come on, Mom!” Fiona yells from her seat as the car bounces up and down every time I tug. “We’re going to be late.”

  I grunt out a response. “I’m… going… as fast… as I can.”

  She sighs so loudly I can hear her back here, and I’m positive she rolled her eyes. I’m not sure when my sweet girl turned into a bossy pants, but I could have sworn puberty isn’t supposed to start at eight years old.

  “Oh my goodness, do you need help?” A woman, who I assume is the new neighbor, comes racing across the grass. The first thing I notice is that she has a beautiful smile. Her bright white teeth are accentuated by her light brown skin and her dark hair is held back by a tie-dyed bandana. I haven’t even spoken to her yet and she already seems to exude happiness.

  This is completely contrary to the weirdness that happened in that house yesterday. Maybe she has a special needs child living with her. Or maybe a drunk uncle. Or a Norman Bates. I shiver thinking about how creepy the house is going to be at Halloween. Those big candy bars may not be worth it this year.

  I realize I’m completely bonkers with this line of thought, but hey, you can never be too careful.

  “Are you trying to get it in or out?” she asks when she reaches my driveway.

  “Out. I misjudged the size of the hatch.”

  She giggles and I immediately like her. Especially when she says, “I do that all the time.” It’s nice to know someone understands me since my own mother would laugh at me for this.

  I also realize she looks strangely familiar. But before I can inquire as to if we’ve met before, she grabs hold of the cooler. “Ready?” I nod and grab the other end. “Pull on three. One…two…three…”

  We pull and jiggle and pull some more, but in less than a minute, the cooler is back on the driveway, us huffing from the exertion. “Thanks,” I puff out.

  “Oh it’s no problem. I’m Joie, by the way.” She reaches her hand out to shake mine.

  “Elena. Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.” She leans over and peeks in the window of the car. “And these are your girls?”

  The way she says it gives me that creep factor again. I can’t tell for sure, but it almost seems like she already knew I had girls.

  “Um… yes,” I say slowly.

  She looks at me, realization dawning on her face, but then she smiles. “The realtor mentioned you had little girls when I said my niece would be staying over sometimes. I asked when I saw the swing set.”

  “Oh, of course.” I feel like a fool because her explanation makes complete sense. I would be curious about children in the neighborhood if I moved, too. “Do you not have children?”

  “I have a son, Isaac, but he’s of
f at college now.”

  “Wow, you don’t look old enough to have a college kid.” I wouldn’t have pegged her to be older than thirty-five, and even that’s pushing it.

  She giggles again and her infectious laugh puts me at ease. How does she do that? One minute I'm thinking I live next to a serial killer, the next I want to be invited to her house for tea. This is how they do it, I think to myself. This is how they draw you in and make you trust them.

  I really need to stop watching the Investigation Channel before bed.

  “I was really young when I had him,” she explains. “But he turned out great. Plays football for Flinton State now.”

  “That’s not too far away.” I grab the handle of the cooler and drag it over to the passenger side. Once I move the front seat back, I know it’ll fit. Max won’t have any leg room, but she’s short. She’ll be fine.

  “Far enough away for him to have a life, but not so far that I never see him. It works.” She helps me heave the container into the car and what do you know? There’s too much room and I have to move the seat forward again.

  There’s either too little room in the trunk or too much in the front. Just like with the Tupperware. I should never be in charge of packing a moving van.

  “Anyway,” she says as I shut the car, “I’m sure you have a busy day. I wanted to introduce myself.”

  “Yeah, I’m glad you did. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

  Watching her walk away as I climb into my car, I still can’t get a good read on her, but I can’t shake the feeling that I know her from somewhere. The entire ride to the playground, in between answering eighty bazillion “why” questions and breaking up a few fights over leg room, I think about where I’ve seen her before.