The House Across The Street

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  “Natalie. My name’s Richard,” he answered as we walked down a wide corridor and then turned down a narrower hallway.

  “I’m Rachel,” I responded. “Thanks for helping me.”

  “Not a problem.”

  Following the signs, we ended up at Room 119. “I guess we’re there,” I remarked when I compared my class outline to the number on the door.

  “Looks like it,” he said with a wide smile, eyeing me up one side and down the other. Suddenly his expression took on a shy look and he tugged at the V-neck of his scrubs. “Um, would you like to hook up later for coffee or something and you can tell me all about your first day of classes?”

  How could I say no? He’d gone out of his way to help me and he even looked nervous about asking me out. Me, of all people. I’d never dated much and now a handsome guy was asking me out. Make that a handsome doctor guy. “Sure. What time and where?” My acceptance sounded ever so casual, when in fact my heart was rapidly beating against my chest. I couldn’t believe this guy wanted to meet up later, but there was no way I was saying no.

  He sighed. “Can I text you later? I’ve got a lot going on and it’s uncertain when I can break away. I’d hate to name a spot and time and keep you waiting.”

  “Of course,” I agreed, marveling over his foresight at planning ahead. As he pulled out his phone, I rattled off my number and he punched the digits into his contacts.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said with another cute grin.

  As he walked away, I admired how nicely his butt filled out his scrubs. Up until now, I had never grabbed the attention of someone with his super-cute features. He was way out of my league and I wondered if his invitation had only been a mere courtesy and I’d never hear from him again.

  ****

  With my daily classes completed, I headed for my dorm where I shared a room with Catie, my best friend forever. We’d known each other our whole lives and were practically joined at the hip. About half-way there, my phone let out a default ring. Fishing around in my purse, I located my mobile. Caller ID registered an unrecognizable number and I almost considered not answering it. Remembering a possible text from Richard, I went ahead and swiped across to answer the call.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, it’s me ... Richard. Do you remember me from this morning?”

  “Yes, I don’t think my memory is that bad,” I answered with a giggle.

  “Oh, okay,” he responded with a chuckle. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet at Starbucks on the corner of University and W. Berry. It’s within walking distance of campus, so it should be convenient to you if you don’t have a car.”

  “Sounds great. What time?”

  “Give me at least forty-five minutes.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “See you then.”

  Hanging up the phone, I felt giddy and a little nervous too. I hardly knew anything about Richard, but figured we could get to know each other over a cup of coffee.

  When I entered the coffee shop, I didn’t see Richard anywhere. Checking the time and realizing I was a good thirty minutes early, I took a seat and waited. Taking advantage of my early arrival, I decided to while away the time reading the first chapter in The Fundamentals of Managerial Accounting. Looking around at the other customers, I realized the place was full of students who were doing the same thing I was. Some were coupled up, but others were solo, just like me. Even so, I felt self-conscious at being alone at a table while I anxiously awaited Richard’s arrival.

  A slow hour later, I was still waiting. After feeling jilted, I was to the point of leaving and wondered why he bothered to contact me in the first place. He clearly didn’t possess the foresight I’d given him credit for earlier. And the least he could’ve done was texted to let me know he wasn’t coming. For a moment I considered sending him a flaming text about what an inconsiderate asshole he was. In the end, I figured he wasn’t worth my time.

  Realizing I’d been stood-up, I opted to get a black and white cocoa to-go. After paying for my drink and taking the warm container in my hands and inhaling the delicious smell of chocolate, I left and began my walk back to campus.

  It was mid-September and the leaves were already turning brilliant reds, oranges and yellows. Some of them had already dropped, littering the sidewalk in varying clumps. Shuffling through the clumps, I stopped to admire my living quarters, an off-campus, beautiful red-bricked, white-trimmed, three-story home. Originally built in 1927, it had been renovated to accommodate twenty-four lucky girls, two in each room.

  Opting for the stairs in lieu of the slow elevator, I began climbing to the third floor where our room was located and heard my phone ping. Taking it from my purse, I read:

  Please forgive me. I was unexpectedly called into a meeting. Phones aren’t allowed and I’m sneaking you this text. Please let me make this up to you. Can I take you to dinner instead? Again, I’m so sorry. Richard

  At first, I wanted to reply something to the effect of, “hell, no.” But once I thought about his situation, I found it understandable. He was cute and had an enchanting smile. Maybe I should forgive him this one indiscretion and look the other way.

  Ok. What did you have in mind?

  Seconds later bubbles waved back and forth on my phone.

  Lancelot’s around 7? I’ll pick you up.

  I responded with my address along with: Ring me when you’re here.

  I won’t disappoint you.

  With a lighter step in my ascension of the stairs, I entered my dorm room with a bubbly smile all over my face. Seeing that Catie had already returned from her classes, I yipped out, “I have a date ... tonight at seven.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “You’ve already met someone!” She watched a big smile spread across my face, one professing of being happy and not joking. “You bitch,” she griped, and then just as quickly she jumped off the bed and gave me a congratulatory hug. “Who with? Not that I know anyone.”

  “Richard ... Richard somebody,” I answered suddenly feeling a little stupid for not even knowing his last name. “We met in front of the Administration Building after he had just walked his sister to class. He was wearing scrubs though and looked older.”

  “Older?” She arched a brow. “By how much?”

  “I don’t know, maybe five or six years” I said with a shrug. “I got the impression he was through with college stuff and focusing on his medical career. I’m looking forward to a date with an adult, instead of a boy.”

  Catie wiped off her scowl. “You’re right. Even Bradley still acts like an idiot sometimes.” Catie had been dating Bradley since our sophomore year of high school.

  After catching up on each other’s day, we set about selecting what I should wear.

  After modeling numerous options, all of which she discounted, her dark eyes suddenly widened from behind her black-rimmed glasses. “I have an idea. I’ll be right back.”

  Before I knew what was going on, she jumped from her cross-legged position on her bed and bounded out the door, her dark black locks bouncing all around her shoulders. She hadn’t bothered closing our door and the sound of her fist could be heard banging on the room next door. Brenna’s door.

  Brenna had moved to Fort Worth during our high school years and had become fast friends with Catie and me. She had managed to snag the room next to ours so we could be as close together as possible.

  Right now, Catie was beating her door down, though the reasoning eluded me because Brenna was about five-nine and thin. With me being of short stature, there was no way I could wear her clothes. A few seconds later, I heard Melinda answering. Melinda was Brenna’s roommate and someone we’d only met after moving in. Now it made sense. Melinda was close to my same height and body weight.

  After a bit of mumbling, I heard, “Hey, Rachel, get over here.” After poking my head in the doorway, Melinda informed me, “I have clothes.”

  After trying on several options, my selection had dwindled to a sparkling silver dres
s with spaghetti straps, slightly short in length. It hugged my curves in all the right places. “My bra shows,” I said frowning at my reflection in the mirror.

  “You’re not supposed to wear one with this design,” Melinda explained. “That’s why it’s padded across the front.”

  “Oh,” I said, uncomfortable with the thought of my girls hanging loose. “Do you think this is too much for Lancelot’s?” I asked, feeling overdressed and a bit on display with the built-in padding in lieu of wearing a bra.

  “Lancelot’s,” Melinda shrieked. “He’s taking you there!”

  “Is it a dive?” I asked, having never been there.

  Brenna rolled her eyes. “Rachel, it’s one of the most expensive places in town. Second only to The Terrace. Don’t you know anything?”

  I shrugged. “I guess not,” I answered, feeling embarrassed and now apprehensive about dining there, especially with someone I didn’t even know. Visions of spinach caught in my teeth, eaten with the wrong fork, played through my mind. “I think I’ll cancel,” I decided, suddenly not wanting to put myself through an ordeal.

  “No way,” they screamed in unison. “You’re going.”

  “Now let’s do something with your hair,” Melinda suggested.

  “And your makeup,” Brenna added.

  For the next hour, I sat in a chair in front of Melinda’s vanity while they teased, pulled and twisted at my hair, followed by wiping, smearing and covering my face with makeup.

  When I looked in the mirror, I found it hard to believe it was my own reflection. My hair was done up in a messy bun and my makeup looked like I’d been to a professional artist. Staring for several moments at the girl in the mirror, I couldn’t believe it was still me. Unless my hair was up in a casual ponytail, I’d never worn it on top of my head. My flawless makeup hid all my faults and made me feel phony. The dress was way too fancy for my taste, not to mention feeling naked without a bra on. “I feel a little overdone,” I said in a less than confident voice.

  “Nonsense,” Melinda assured me.

  “He’ll love the way you look,” Catie reinforced.

  “If he doesn’t, then he’s a tosser,” Brenna suggested.

  So, there I was, all dolled up and waiting for Richard to pick me up. When seven o’clock rolled around and I hadn’t heard from him, I wondered if it was going to be a repeat of the coffee shop. While the others chitchatted about their first day of classes, I sat silently wringing my hands. “Oh shit, my phone,” I screamed out, realizing I’d left it in my bag next door.

  Stumbling out in the sparkling, high-heeled silver slip-ons, which I had also borrowed, I hurried to check my phone. Disappointment gripped me at seeing I didn’t have a text, a voice message, or a missed call. Tossing my phone on the bed and plopping down beside it, I couldn’t decide which I felt more ... disappointment, embarrassment, or anger.

  My friends crowded in the doorway, following behind me. I frowned. “No messages. He’s late. I wonder if he’s going to be a no-show.”

  Just then I was rewarded with a ping from my phone.

  I’m downstairs. I’ll come up and get you if you’ll give me your room number.

  Relief washed over me, and I quickly let him know my location. A few moments later, I heard tromping up the stairs. When Richard came to the door, he was carrying a dozen red roses.

  “Sorry, I’m a few minutes late. I stopped to pick these up for you.” He crossed the room and handed them to me, giving me a kiss on top of my head. “You look amazing.”

  My smile beamed at him like a beacon. “Thank you so much. They’re beautiful.” I stuck my nose in them and drew in a deep breath, inhaling the sweet rosy smell.

  “Here, let me put them in a vase for you,” Catie offered.

  After introductions, in less than five minutes Richard had practically charmed the pants off my friends, including me. My three friends were all smiles and giggles and it was easy to see they thought of Richard as eye candy, each giving me two thumbs up and congratulatory nods.

  I couldn’t believe my good luck.

  Chapter Six

  Rachel

  After scrambling away from my friends and hurrying back to a nonexistent client, my brain flipped from remembering good things about Richard to all the bad things keeping me away from him forever. It was hard to discern which memories hurt the most ... the good ones or the bad ones. At the time of my first date with Richard, I couldn’t believe how fortunate I was to have met such a handsome, well-mannered doctor-to-be. Now, all these years later, I wished, like at the coffee shop, he’d stood me up once again. The torture my heart ultimately suffered would’ve been saved.

  “Oh, my goodness,” I muttered to myself, suddenly noting I was five blocks past the turnoff to my house. All I remembered was turning the corner out of the parking garage, and poof here I was. Honestly, it worried me to death that my subconscious mind had taken over to such a high degree.

  Taking the next right, I circled at the end of the block and came up the backway to my house. A few houses down, I saw Jarrod Dawson’s dark gray SUV parked in someone’s driveway. I knew it was his after seeing the bumper sticker on the back of his car that read: Please don’t hit me unless you’re insured. Mr. Dawson was the man who moved into the middle unit of the three townhouses across the street. The guy Mrs. Tuttle wanted to speak to me about. While I knew Mrs. Tuttle wanted to gripe about him for whatever reason, I couldn’t say I blamed her. Admittedly, I wasn’t fond of him either.

  Pulling into my driveway and coming to a stop, I reached over in the floorboard and retrieved my leftovers from lunch. Having barely nibbled at my meal, I decided to take it across to Mrs. Jenkins so we could share it. As I exited the vehicle, my coat blew open, hitting me with a blast of cold air. After gathering my purse, phone and the take-out container, I locked my car and hurried across the street to the left unit of the three-townhouse building.

  After ringing her bell, I stood in the nippy air waiting for Mrs. Jenkins to make it to the door. Poor Margaret Jenkins wasn’t as spry as she used to be, and it took her several long minutes to get to the door. In the meantime, I blew on my red raw fingers and bounced all around just trying to keep warm.

  “Come in Rachel,” she said as she tugged on her front wooden door. Her soft gray eyes crinkled with kindness. “Get in here before you catch your death of cold.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins,” I said taking a few steps inside. “How are you feeling?”

  “Well, I just wish this cold weather would pass because it just hurts my bones. And my arthritis has been bothering me all week.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, giving her a sympathetic look. “Hey, I had some leftovers from lunch. I thought we’d share them.”

  “Oh, that would be lovely. I haven’t eaten anything yet.” She smiled and ran a hand through her soft gray hair. “I am hungry.”

  Though it was past noon, it didn’t surprise me to hear she hadn’t had lunch. I had to watch Mrs. Jenkins like a hawk. I brought her food often just to make sure she was well-fed.

  “My old bones get pretty stiff when it’s this cold.” Mrs. Jenkins waddled her way over to the small table in her dining area while I heated our food in the microwave and brewed two pods of tea through the Keurig.

  The microwave beeped and I pulled the food out, dividing it on two plates.

  “Here you go,” I announced, placing a plate in front of her.

  “Thank you,” she said kindly. While we ate, we discussed her book club meeting last night. “We had it at my house again. Iva offered to drive me over to Betty’s, but it was just too cold for me to be out and about.”

  “That’s good. I don’t like it when you’re out after dark anyway,” I mothered her.

  We talked through our meal, then I told her I needed to get back to work.

  “Well, thank you for stopping by. I really do appreciate it.”

  “Anytime,” I told her, giving her a quick hug and making my way outside.


  Once again, a blast of cold air cut through me and immediately reddened my checks. Scurrying across the street, I headed for my house. Barely halfway across, I heard a voice calling behind me.

  “There you are Rachel. After seeing your car back in the driveway, I knocked on your door, but you didn’t answer.”

  I slowed my steps and turned to see Mrs. Tuttle making her way across her yard. “I ran next door to check on Mrs. Jenkins.”

  “Well I figured as much. She was fine last night at the book club. But it’s good of you to check on her so often.” She stopped in front of me, breathing heavily which caused a huge vapor to escape her mouth and float into the air.

  “It’s really cold out, Mrs. Tuttle. And I really need to get to work. Can we talk about Mr. Dawson some other time?”

  “Oh of course,” she said, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “I’d already forgotten about him anyway. I wanted to talk to you about that.” She pointed to an old Dodge Charger with some guy sitting in the driver’s seat.

  Chapter Seven

  Jackson

  Well, looky-looky. What do we have here? I throw the information file on Logan Foster to the floorboard as my eyes bulge out of their sockets, taking in the beauty exiting a vehicle behind me. It took her a moment to gather her purse and what looked to be a to-go box. While she’s all bent over, I get a good view of her gorgeous round ass. During this time, her coat blows open and I get a sneak peek of an amazing figure. From where I sit in my old Dodge Charger, I imagine she has voluptuous boobs and nice hips, the kind you could grab hold of and get the ride of your life. I feel my face droop into a frown as she gets her items organized and tugs the tweed threads back together.

  I watch her carry the package across the street and ring the bell on the far unit of a three- townhouse complex. While she waits for someone to answer the door, she bounces all around to keep herself warm, while I imagine she’s performing that ride I envisioned a moment ago. Damn my mind’s in the gutter now. I’m even getting a chubby just thinking about it.