Lillian drank the last of her tea. "I would truly appreciate you being by my side. Please, you should hang out less with that twat Lyle," she insisted.
I twirled my hair with my finger absentmindedly. Lillian didn't know my favourite colour, and I didn't know hers. That was indication that we hardly knew each other. Who was she to tell me who to befriend or not?
"I'll do whatever I please, and if it pleases me to hang Lyle outside, I will do just that. And why can't I be friends with the two of you?" I asked. A valid question. And I was proud of my slight word play, twisting 'hanging out' and 'hang outside'. Another one of Lyle's favourite childhood games was 'Hangman'. Let's just say this one didn't involve paper and a pen, but did require a tree, a skipping rope and my neck. Still, I only had 299 friends on Facebook, and adding Lillian to the honoured list would make it a nice round number.
Lillian shook her head slowly.
"You might have gathered that I don't like your dear Lyle much. Well, you'll change your mind about me on Monday at the Fete when m'lord Uncle arrives," said Lillian with a fresh sounding laugh. She confused my poor head. Most of the time she seemed to be a smiley, laughy kind of girl. She was the one who had freed me from those dratted handcuffs after all. But sometimes her tone would go quiet and sombre...
"Who's that?" I queried.
"What, we talked about this a few days ago during Monopoly, remember?" Lillian pointed out. She stood up to leave. I helped her with her long velvet coat as she made her way to exit. Its softness reminded me of Lyle's bed and the weird, incoherent memories attached to it, both from years ago and a few days ago. The reason for the littlest similarities between Lyle and Lillian finally dawned upon me as Lea waved good bye, smiling with only half her lips.
So her uncle was Lord Sparrowick, formerly known as Mr Parker. And Lyle was her cousin.
Chapter XII: Contrite
* * *
I finally understood the meaning of 5 am on a Saturday morning the next day, when my alarm clock went off sounding like nails scratching against a blackboard. Well, to be honest my alarm ring tone is a chorus of clucking chickens calling out to the rest of the countryside (it's called "Farm Fantasy" or something similarly stupid). But at 5 am everything sounds like screaming banshees. That's the reason why I'm thankful I'm not a farmer, and the reason why a little vegetable patch is more than sufficient compared to large agricultural lands.
And why was I up at this sacrilegious hour? It was an immutable fact; I had promised Lyle I would help in decorating his place for the Halloween Fete, the biggest revelry in Sparrowick. I'm the kind of girl who keeps her promises closer to her heart than her arteries. Yet Lyle insists I betrayed him in the past somehow. Something about his father walking out on the family. I would say 'Take him to a psychiatrist!' but he would only mortify the shrink herself into a mental breakdown. I mean, this is Lyle we're talking about here.
This whole 'preparing for the Fete' business was new to me. I'm not such a fan of large scale events and parties like the Halloween Fete. In fact, I haven't attended one in five years, that's so long I feel like I've earned bragging rights on it. And that way I would never bump into Lyle. Even so, my mother likes it when I participate in these town events so I decided to do it for her sake.
I made my way to the Sparrowick Castle. The sky was a navy blue, scattered with a few wayward stars here and there. My breath clouded up as I climbed the ascent to the entrance of the castle. The front garden was in complete shambles as usual. My fingers itched to trim the shrubs (not to mention they itched from the rogue nettles clinging to me like bloody cling film). When I approached the ornate front door, I rang the doorbell like I had done countless times in the past and, with the way things were going, the way I would continue to do so countless times in the future.
Lyle jerked the door open.
"Good, you're here. Let's go," he addressed me flatly, pointing a thumb behind him.
He was already in his Halloween costume. He wore dark jeans that were ripped and a white T-shirt that had been artfully splattered with fake blood and torn in various places. Coupled with his messy dark hair and his penetrating eyes, I had to admit that he was giving Daya a good run for her money regarding the costume competition.
"Nice disguise Lyle," I said cordially as I followed him downstairs to the garage. If I started the day optimistically, perhaps this whole ordeal would not end so badly.
Lyle scoffed and did not deign to look back at me when he replied.
"What are you babbling on about Lea? This isn't a costume; they're my day clothes," he snapped at me.
I forgot to breathe for a while. Then again, I should have guessed as much. Obviously he had been engaged the whole night with black magic occult rituals. That's why he was up at 5. Still, a girl doesn't feel too comfortable walking next to a man drenched in haemoglobin. I shuddered to imagine what could have led his shirt to such a state. I though it more prudent not to ask, both for my sanity and for my physical being.
I found myself in Lyle's garage. Lyle switched the light on (thankfully) to reveal a swanky- looking car. With a number plate that read 'LORD LYLE', it took but a moment to figure out who the car belonged to.
"We're going somewhere?" I asked, predicting the future like a Greek oracle. Riding in the front seat of this spacious, leather-interior car did not seem like a bad idea, one that a part of me looked forward to.
"Yes, we always get our supplies from a special shop. After that, we've got to decorate the whole castle so little children and their parents can come in and then leave without their breathes or their hair," he replied.
After a somewhat awkward silence, he came closer to me, with a curious expression on his face. He lifted my chin to make my gaze level with his own.
"You know, Lea...now that it's only the two of us, we should do something. Something you'll remember for the rest of your life," he said in a smooth, dark tone, quietening down to a whisper.
My heart went through that familiar sensation wherein it forgets to beat. The fear of pain, misery and the unexpected all coursed through me. I moved my eyes – I had to look anywhere else but at Lyle's crystal face. And why hadn't he combed his hair? With hair like that, one can't help but feel the urge to stroke one of those wavy bits...
I flinched away, but he pulled me back with an iron grip.
"Aren't we supposed to go shopping?" I asked. I might remind you that the sun had not yet risen.
"I have an idea...we should play a game. After all, you know how much I love games," he continued relentlessly, ignoring me. "The special store opens at 6 am, so we have time to spare."
After atrocities like Walk-the-Plank, Hangman, Stuck-in-the-Well and Cut-the-Rabbit, I was wary of what kind of game my neighbour had in mind. Needless to say, our more recent games had been a lot worse, and I still had nightmares about the handcuffs and the rope binding, and even the Monopoly. So I carefully replied.
"What sort of game...?"
Lyle looked like he had a flash of inspiration, and we all know what that meant for me.
"Hmm," he considered, running a finger slowly down the left side of my neck. Or was it the right? What did it matter, I couldn't remember the difference between the two anyway...
"I was thinking we could play 'Lea's Tears'. Sounds fun, right?"
A rhyme though 1% of my brain for just a moment. The other 99 % was concentrating on:
"No Lyle. It sounds like a terrible game," I said firmly. You have to put your foot down at some point – especially as I was doubtful as to whether those tears were meant to be joy-induced.
I'm not sure if he particularly relished my reluctance to play. Even as kids, if I refused to participate in a certain game, Lyle had a way of making me against my will. Whether he held my maths homework hostage or tore out my prized begonias, his constant bullying never failed to bend me to his ways. But not this time.
Lyle eyed me and then crossed his arms, "Repeat what you just said," he demanded.
"Your
games are never fair. I always get the short end of the stick," I insisted. Then I remembered I was arguing with a man who had blood stains on his T-shirt. Well, it was too late to back down now.
"I resent that. My games are fair, it's just that you suck at them so badly that you feel they're unjust," he retorted, "What is with your rebellious streak anyway, are you going through a second puberty or something?"
I ignored his little jibe and continued.
"This timeI'll make the rules," I said firmly.
Lyle laughed condescendingly. Then, his laughing increased in volume until he put an arm on my shoulder to stop himself from falling. I found myself frozen like a pizza – It was rare to see Lyle laugh uncontrollably. And I had no idea how to deal with it.
"You...you make the rules? Ha! You couldn't even make a sandwich if someone cut the cheese slice for you!" he said. I preferred a laughing Lyle to the brooding one, even if I was the object of his derision. So I let it pass. Cheese sandwiches aren't great anyway – I'd rather peanut butter any day of the week.
"Yes, I'll decide the rules. As a matter of fact, I've already thought of something," I swiftly replied.
"Oh really. How cute, Lea taking the lead."
Ummm... remember two sentences ago when I told Lyle that I had already thought up a game? Well, that was one of my rare, big, fat, juicy lies. Sure, it was sophomoric of me, but I had to make Lyle think I was one step ahead of him.
I had to make it up on the spot.
This would be great practice for my university interviews.
"Ok...well, first we start by sitting in the two front seats of the car," I said. If he killed during the course of this game, at least I'd die in a beautiful car.
Lyle pressed a button on his remote to open the car. We both got in. I'd like to point out that he didn't open the door for me. Some nobleman. Even so, it was extremely refreshing to have him obey me for once. This was probably the best day of my life, and I wouldn't mind starting a diary just to document this momentous occasion.
Lyle slammed his door shut. "Now what?"
"Now we errrr...well...we...um...eerrrrrr...rrrrrrace! That's it! We race around your estate in this car, and whoever does it faster wins!" I blurted out. For a spur-of-the-moment thing that wasn't half bad.
"That's it?" Lyle said, sounding unimpressed.
"No, of course not, sill – silky," I was about to say 'silly', but I recalled that he hadn't taken kindly to being called 'twat'. Then again, it had been his cousin who had called him that, and cousins are known for cousinly spats. Still, better to err on the side of caution.
Lyle raised an eyebrow, hand on steering wheel.
"I hadn't finished yet," I said smoothly, "While racing, we have to avoid all the cats..." Lyle yawned, "and the other person tries to distract the driver, to do anything to make them slow down. And the loser has to do as the winner commands." I finished, relieved. My rules sounded oddly like something Lyle would have come up with. Maybe Lillian was right; I was hanging out with Lyle too much...
Lyle considered it for a second. "That's not bad Lea. Alright, let's do it."
Only when he acquiesced did I realise the danger of this game. Having a car race? Not a great idea. Distracting a racing driver? An even worse one. Getting Lyle to go at breakneck speeds at 5 am in the morning? Please, just shoot me now.
"So, me first then," Lyle said rather than asked. "Here goes."
Whatever he did after that can't have been good for the transmission or the cylinders (I'm just saying random car words here). I was completely thrown forward, my thigh falling against the gear-stick thing and accidentally changing gears so that the car was again halted, and me thrown forward even more. Before that day, I had no idea one could bruise their nose. I silently thanked Lyle for his gentle reminder that I had to wear my seatbelt. He didn't bother to ask if I were ok, instead swearing at me and bolting off even faster into the darkness of the morning. I quickly fastened it.
"Why are you driving on the wrong side of the road?" I screamed with shock and fear.
"Aw, are we going to see you cry then?" Lyle asked mockingly, probably as a reference to the title 'Lea's Tears'.
"What? No, just...look!" I pointed at a tabby cat crossing the road looking scared, but not as scared as I was.
Lyle jerked the car, and the cat got away safely thank god. Couldn't say the same for me.
"Oh, I get it...this is your way of distracting me. You think I'll go slower because of your stupid comments. Not going to work, dear," he said. I went 'EARGH!' despairingly but he merely laughed at my incoherence. He was laughing a little too much this early in the morning.
"No, I'm not...why are you still on the wrong side? We're not in bloody America, we're in the UK!" I was practically stuck to the headboard, screaming at Lyle. I prayed my mum wouldn't see my name in the next morning's obituaries.
"Relax, it's 5 in the morning, not like anyone else is around," he said, but all the while he was enjoying my discomfort, smiling as broadly as is possible for a zombie. My screams of dread and anguish seem to appeal to his sadistic side.
"That's not the point!"
I knew whatever I said wouldn't make him drive any less recklessly. Therefore I decided to take this opportunity to reallydistract him. No point in him winning the race, especially at the cost of my life.
"So, why is your shirt all bloodied up? Praying to Satan again?" I started.
"Don't be an ass. I was skinning a pheasant I had just caught in our woods."
Pff. I was quite sure that was an excuse. I checked the stopwatch on my mobile phone. It had only been 2 minutes 33 seconds, and he was already halfway around the block. Serious distracting was at the top of my agenda. It had to be something not as drastic as taking all my clothes off and waving them in front of the driver, but not as boring as asking 'How are you?' either.
"Ok...oh yeah, Lillian came by yesterday. She said something interesting," I continued. I was sure his reaction towards hearing about Lillian, his cousin he hated, would slow him down.
If anything, he sped up, motors drowning my squealing.
"What did the dear cuz say?"
"She knows you pushed her on purpose and she doesn't want your apology."
"Good for her."
"She said some strange things...she doesn't want me to be around you." Well, I didn't either, but I didn't want to take orders from some grammar school nerd.
"That's why I broke her arm."
Oddly enough, that was when he slowed down the car.
He twisted someone's bones just because he wanted to hang out with me? Just because he couldn't stand someone saying otherwise? As much as I tried to suppress it, I felt a warm little glow within me. I told myself that no matter the reason, it is wrong to hurt others, yet it seemed that Lyle had some humanity, if only a shred. Apparently I wasn't complete trash in his eyes.
"That's the reason...?" I whispered.
Lyle halted the car (in the middle of the road I might add) and looked at me.
"Lea, you are my friend, and probably my only friend in the world. I'm not letting anyone talk about you like that. You know why? Because I'm a true friend, unlike somepeople who abandon us during troubled times," he said caustically.
I was basically speechless. He thought of me not just as a neighbour or a torture toy. He still thought of me as a friend. Flashes of when we were children sprang to my mind, like me running away from him in his garden. The times we both fell asleep from exhaustion on his bed. The times when he'd come running to my house to get a bit of my mother's apple pie. Only the happy moments came to me, even though the painful ones far outnumbered them. The words I said next came out very slowly, but I had to say them.
"Lyle...I'm sorry if I ever did something in the past to hurt you. I guess I should have been around more when your father left you..."
"I could have helped you too, with your father's death. We shouldn't have been cooped up in the prison of our houses. That just made things so...even...wo
rse."
These were complicated issues for both of us. I was just glad that all those thoughts were in the air now, that we had tackled them. But I wanted to end the topic, as I didn't particularly enjoy the squirmy visceral feeling and that of holding my tears back. We both remained silent for a couple of minutes to let our heavy thoughts clear out. It was stupid really. Of course I couldn't hide from Lyle my entire life. We were neighbours, and it was impossible for me to ignore those who were closest to me. I mean, he only lived a hundred metres away.
"Um...you're going to lose, Lyle," I said to break the atmosphere, showing him the stopwatch.
"Wrong. I was trying to give you a slight head start. You'll still lose of course." While saying this he revved the car up to full speed and zipped away, reaching his garage in less than 30 seconds. He backed into the garage with a speed so reckless he would surely break though the garage door, but by some miracle I was still alive by the end of it.
"Done. Were you scared, Lea? You were screaming a lot you know. Think I even spotted a tear. Such a baby," he said patronizingly, and then I remembered the reason I hated this man.
" 6 minutes 22 seconds," I said, ignoring him, "Guess it's my turn now."
Chapter XIII: Submissive
* * *
"6 minutes 22 seconds," I said, ignoring him, "Guess it's my turn now," I continued as Lyle and I exchanged seats. I adjusted the rear view mirror for my mediocre 5' 4" height. Similar story with the driver's seat. As I pulled it in front I silently cursed Lyle's towering height. A sudden breeze passed into the car, reminding us that it was still early morning in late October.
"You do know how to turn it on?" Lyle asked when he saw me fumbling with the keys. Keys are a pretty stupid invention really. We'd be better off if we just hot-wired the ignition every time. But after a minute of dropping, cursing, and Lyle's expressionless staring I finally got the vehicle started.
"You truly are a simpleton," he said. "Remember the deal. If you lose, you have to do as I tell you."
Nightmare with the Neighbour Page 7