The Man Next Door: Orchard Heights Book 2 - standalone

by Roya Carmen

  I never thought it possible, but miraculously, my friends have managed to make me smile and laugh, and forget all about Noah.

  If only for a little while.

  34

  Yes, we remember the highs and lows, but we also sometimes remember the smallest most mundane details too. I’ll always remember the picnics Gavin and I used to have under the large maple tree at the back of the Fortin property, right off the park. Old man Fortin used to spot us once in a while and chase us away. Once, we got caught in the rain, the three of us, Gavin and I and Magnum. We used to love those picnics. If pure happiness could be described in only two words, those words would be: summer picnics.

  We were coming back from one of these picnics, stomachs full of roast beef sandwiches Gavin had made and the blueberry muffins I’d baked when we ran into Johnny and his posse. Johnny was one of Izzie’s many cousins.

  I knew from their expressions that they were out to make trouble, which was quite typical of them. Every neighborhood has its bullies, and Johnny’s gang were ours. Being Izzie’s bestie, I’d always felt protected, but now I was shaking a bit. I didn’t feel safe around them anymore. And neither did Gavin. I could feel his fear in my bones. Gavin was a big guy, but there was only one of him, and four of them.

  “Hey, Foster… out with young girls again?” Johnny smirked and turned to me. “What the fuck are you doing with this creep, Abby?”

  I took Gavin’s hand, a gesture of solidarity. “He’s my boyfriend.”

  Johnny frowned, and pursed his lips. He threw his cigarette and stomped it. He shook his head. “He gets off on young girls. He’s a total scumbag.”

  Gavin didn’t say a word. He knew better.

  “I’m eighteen,” I pointed out. “Hardly a young girl anymore.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, but how long has he been sticking it in you?”

  Gavin lurched at him and gave him a shove. Johnny pushed him right back. “You watch yourself, you fucking weirdo. Watch your back. I wouldn’t go out of your house if I were you.”

  Johnny’s buddy grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. “C’mon, Johnny. He’s not worth it right now.” He cocked his head in Mrs. Turner’s direction. She was sitting on her porch, watching the show, a cigarette in her mouth, a beer in her hand. “There’s people around.”

  Johnny reluctantly walked away. “We all know you did it, Foster.” He jerked his head around. “You’ll get yours… I’ll make sure of that.”

  My heart was beating a mile a minute as we both stood frozen, watching them walk away. I wrapped my arms around Gavin’s waist. “They’re just creeps. I wouldn’t worry about them.” Even as I said the words, I knew I was full of shit. I knew he should be worried because everyone at the park knew Johnny was fucking crazy.

  We were still shaken when we got back to his place. “You shouldn’t be telling everyone we’re together,” he said.

  “Why not?” I argued. “Are you ashamed of our relationship?”

  He smiled. “No… I want to scream about it from the rooftops.”

  I laughed. “Well, the rooftops around here aren’t very high.”

  He grinned. “Except for old Fortin’s place. Maybe I should climb on his rooftop.”

  My eyes grew wide. “He’d shoot you.”

  He laughed, and took me in his arms. “He would.”

  We settled on the covered loveseat swing on his porch. We hadn’t been sitting there together for long. We’d only recently come out in the open. “I just think you shouldn’t flaunt it,” he went on. “There’s a big age difference, and you know people… they judge. And not sure if you noticed but people hate me around here.”

  I pouted. “They don’t know you. People around here are jerks. And besides, there’s only ten years between us. If they want to judge, let them judge. Who gives a fuck.”

  He frowned, but he was smiling. “I don’t like it when you curse. Potty mouths don’t belong on pretty girls like you.”

  I smiled. “If people see that you and I are an item, they might stop suspecting you. They might not think you’re such a…”

  “A what?”

  “Uh… a… reclusive.”

  “You were going to say ‘weirdo’ right?”

  I laughed out loud. “I was.”

  He broke into laughter too. “I get it. I need your seal of approval, right?”

  I shot him a flirty grin. “Something like that.”

  Then I kissed him. Right in front of everyone.

  “Calvin Klein. Oh my God… he’s a dream.”

  I smile at Lea Thompson’s words. This is my favorite scene from Back to the Future, when Marty punches Biff in the face, and goes off on his skateboard, in his cool vintage jacket and black Converse sneakers. He manages to outrun them and they end up covered in manure.

  Little Abe is cuddled close to me, twirling a strand of my long hair between his chubby little fingers.

  “Leave her alone, Abe,” his mom scolds. “She’s trying to watch the movie.”

  I smile down at him. “I don’t mind it. He’s sweet.”

  Izzie’s hand is wrist deep in a bag of Doritos, and she’s completely focused on the screen. “I can’t believe his mom has the hots for him.” She laughs. “That is so messed up.”

  “Yeah. Best movie ever.”

  “Stop eating that junk, Izzie,” Adele scolds. “I’m making you your favorite.”

  “Peanut butter banana sandwiches?” little Abe calls out.

  “You bet.” She reaches and adjusts one of the tiger lilies in the arrangement on the counter. They’re her favorite flowers. Mine too.

  He turns to me. “My mom is the best.”

  I smile. “Yep… I agree.”

  “And after lunch, I want you to leave the girls alone, and practice your piano,” Adele says, and suddenly the pink t-shirt and jeans shorts she’s wearing vanish into thin air. I blink and she’s wearing a long colorful skirt, the same one Claudia just bought. Her hair is flowing and she starts to dance. She takes my hand and pulls me from the sofa. We dance.

  Before long, little Abe and Izzie join us. I’m filled with joy, with calm. I’m dancing on a cloud.

  I wake with a start. My sheets are cool, and my skin is clammy. I’m breathless, struggling to get my bearings. It takes me a second or two to orient myself in the darkness of my bedroom. The digital clock on my bedside table flashes. The bright green letters indicate that it’s past three in the morning.

  Another flashback.

  But this one leaves me confused. It can’t be.

  I bounce out of my bed, and fetch my slippers. I know he’s still there. He wasn’t meant to leave until the moving trucks came later today.

  My pulse races as I storm out of my loft, not even bothering to lock the door. I stomp over to his door and ring the doorbell repeatedly.

  When he finally opens the door, he’s sleepy and disheveled, in pajama pants and his Led Zeppelin t-shirt. He rubs at one eye, the other one is wide with surprise.

  I barge in, and hurry right past him. He nips at my heels. “What’s going on, Abby?”

  I practically run to his den, to the desk he so adamantly forbade me to get into. I pull the drawers open, but they’re empty. Everything in his apartment is bare, the tables, the built-in bookcases, the kitchen in the distance. Boxes are stacked everywhere. Of course…

  He’s leaving.

  I’m frantic as I dash to the stacked boxes.

  “What the hell, Abby. Talk to me.”

  I spot a box labeled OFFICE/DEN. I rip into it with the strength of three Portuguese men. I need to find what I’m looking for. He grabs my arm and pulls me back. I tear myself away, livid. “Don’t you dare touch me,” I snap.

  He stands, motionless. I’m sure he thinks I’ve gone off the deep end. I rummage through stacks of work notes and music sheets, office supplies and correspondence.

  Finally… I find what I’m looking for. A letter addressed to him.

  I want the floor to swallow
me whole when I see it right in front of me, in black and white.

  Abraham Reed

  I turn to him. “Little Abe?”

  35

  He bites his lip and stares at the floor without a word. I see him now; those bright baby blues, the smattering of freckles on his nose, faded now, and that sweet shy smile that could only belong to little Abe. There had always been something familiar about him, something which brought me home. Why? How? I’m too shocked to even ask those questions.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  I just stare at him, awestruck. I feel so stupid. I wonder if I’m still dreaming, a dream within a dream.

  He drops to his knees. “I can explain.”

  I don’t say a word, still too shocked to speak.

  “I’ve been keeping track of you for years,” he confesses. “I missed you.”

  I missed you too, little Abe.

  “You left so suddenly… I missed you. I was only nine when you left. No one knew where you went. I asked my mom for an address so I could write to you. She didn’t have one.”

  I’m sorry.

  “I never forgot you.”

  I never forgot you either.

  He takes my hand. “I grew up, went away to school, but never forgot you. Years later, I searched you up on Facebook, and there you were.” He smiled up at me. “I’ve stalked you ever since.”

  I swallow hard. I’m not sure how I feel about this. I know everyone does it. I know I sure did after Daniel and I were divorced. I was obsessed with his new woman.

  “Why are you here?” I finally manage.

  “You don’t post much at all on social media. I wanted to see that you’re okay… with my own eyes.”

  “Wait…” I say, thinking back. “Your birthday’s not November 10th, it’s August 15th.”

  He shrugs. “I lied… I didn’t want you to clue in.”

  “And you’re not twenty-eight, you’re twenty-seven!”

  He nods and stares at the floor.

  Just great.

  “Why?” I ask, still puzzled. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me who you were?”

  “Because you should hate me, Abby.”

  I shake my head in confusion. “Why would I hate you?”

  He pulls his gaze from mine. “Because I completely fucked up your life… and mine.”

  My stomach is aflutter. I don’t know what he’s telling me. “What do you mean, Noah… Abe?”

  He stares at the floor, at the mess I’ve made of his office supplies. “You don’t want to know.”

  My whole core is on fire. “I want to know, Abe. Tell me everything.”

  His beautiful face is strained as he rubs the back of his neck. His gaze darts about the space but never lands on me. I desperately want to reach out and tear the words from his throat. “Tell me,” I plead. “I deserve to know.”

  He rubs at his flushed face, and a soft growl escapes his mouth. “Fuck.”

  “What?!” I can’t take this. I’m going to lose my mind if he doesn’t speak soon.

  He tugs at his t-shirt collar. “I… I could…” His words are broken… lost. He can’t seem to find them.

  “You could what?”

  He clears his throat. “I wish I’d done it differently. Every single day of my life, I wish—”

  “You wish what?”

  “I could have saved her,” he scoffs, his words thunderous in the large empty space. “I could have saved both of them. I was a fucking coward, Abby.”

  My jaw drops. “What… do you mean?”

  He dips his head, and presses his face into his hands. I know we’ll need to take it slow. He’s clearly wrecked, and I’ll have to put him back together piece by piece.

  But I will, if it’s the last thing I do.

  I’ve had quite a few horrible days in my life, more than most. The day my mother died was definitely one of them. Yet, it’s not been the worst. I was too young to fully comprehend the implications of not having a mother to guide me through life. And I didn’t quite understand the finality of death.

  The day Daniel told me he was in love with another woman was difficult, but not the worst either. I never truly loved him the way I should have. If I had, that day would have hurt much more.

  The day I found out about Izzie’s death was tough. It made me question everything. It made me cynical, but also made me stronger. She and I were already broken, and I suppose that eased the sting.

  My worst day by far, was October 12th, 2002.

  It started very much in the same way every other day began. I’d gone to work, finished a shift and came back home, the smell of popcorn permeated in the fabric of my work uniform; blue golf shirt with cinema logo and beige khakis.

  It was dark, and I was dog-tired but I was still eager to see Gavin. I hadn’t spoken to him in almost twenty-four hours. I hopped off the city bus with a bounce in my step. I was heading straight to his place, but I was only halfway there when I ran into Simon.

  He ran up to me. “Did you hear?”

  What is it now? I remember thinking. We’d had so much drama at the park, I was sick of it.

  “What now?” I asked.

  His face fell. Simon was a cheery type, always smiling, despite the fact that he’d lost his little sister. I’d never seen him look so horrible. A chill ran through my spine. I knew something serious was up. My first thought was, Oh no… he did it again. I was convinced that our mysterious strangler had struck again. I wondered who was his latest victim. I thought of Kelly and Karla. I hoped it was Kelly.

  “It’s Gavin,” he said.

  My legs gave out at the sound of his name. I couldn’t stand. Simon reached for my arm, and held on as I kneeled to the ground on the side of the road.

  “I’m so sorry, Abby,” he said softly. Like everyone else, Simon knew Gavin and I were close.

  “Johnny and his gang got to him,” he said quietly. “They beat him to a pulp.”

  I didn’t need to ask why? I knew Johnny had it out for him. He was convinced that Gavin killed Izzie, despite the well known fact that Gavin had been interrogated, had passed the polygraph, and had been dismissed.

  People believe what they want to believe. People need someone to blame.

  I lifted my gaze to Simon’s. “Is he okay? Where is he?”

  “Last I heard, he was brought to the hospital in an ambulance.”

  Ambulance…

  A wave of nausea hit me hard. My vision blurred. Yet, I was determined to get to him. I inhaled a deep breath, and summoned all the strength I had. I told myself to get it together. I got back up on my feet.

  “I need to go see him,” I told Simon, and sprinted off, ran as fast as I could.

  When I got home, I swung the door open and called out to my dad. “I need to go to the hospital.”

  The expression on his face said it all. He knew. Everyone probably knew.

  As much as he hated Gavin, he seemed genuinely upset. He grabbed his keys off the hook by the door. “Let’s go.”

  It was the longest ride of my life. The radio chatter assaulted my ears, and my pulse raced all the way there. I jumped out of my dad’s truck before he even had a chance to park it. I ran to the emergency, and talked to the first receptionist I could get a hold of. I asked about Gavin Foster, beaten and brought in by ambulance. Her face fell instantly. She told me he was in surgery.

  Complete desperation hit me. I’d never believed in God, but I pleaded with him then. Please, let Gavin be okay.

  I sank into one of the chairs in the waiting area. A little boy was playing with a yellow Tonka truck at my feet. I watched him as tears slid down my cheeks. I’d imagined having a little boy just like him with Gavin, and a little girl too. They both had Gavin’s dark locks and kind brown eyes. Just like this boy.

  I sobbed into my hands, and the woman next to me, the boy’s mom, pressed a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  I couldn’t answer her. I couldn’t speak. I don’t know how I knew, but I did. I k
new Gavin was gone.

  He died that night.

  The details of his death and previous events trickled in over the following days. He’d been attacked earlier in the day, right in his own backyard, in bright daylight, in front of everyone. He’d received a bad blow to the head. He’d fallen unconscious, and when neighbors came to his aid, they managed to bring him back. His ear was bleeding, according to Mrs. Harris, but he’d told everyone he was okay. Only later, did he come out of his place, disoriented, seeking help. My dad came to his aid. He fainted in his arms. That’s when my dad called the ambulance.

  Gavin died from intracranial bleeding. The surgeons tried to get in to stop the bleeding, but didn’t get to him on time. If only he’d agreed to go to the hospital straight away when Mrs. Harris suggested it, he might have lived. But that was Gavin for you, stoic and stubborn as hell.

  I cried all night. And the next day. And the day following. I couldn’t eat, could barely breathe. My dad and brothers worried for me. Nick told me I could die if I didn’t eat something.

  I hoped he was right.

  I desperately wanted to die too.

  36

  I take Abe’s hand in mine, and lead him to the sofa in the living room. It’s dark, nothing but the moonlight illuminates us. Boxes are stacked next to the sofa, ready to go. “Tell me everything.”

  He rubs his hands along the legs of his pajama pants. “I was only nine…” he starts off.

  I press my hand on his. I’ve missed his touch so much. “I know.”

  “He said that if I told, he’d hurt my mom. Badly. He said he’d kill her.”

  I thought of Adele, always smiling, a light in everyone’s life, especially little Abe’s.

  “Who?” I ask.

  “Uncle Pete.”

  My heart stops. Pete.

  “I saw him slap her straight across the face,” he says softly. He stares at the floor, not able to look at me. “He hit her so hard, she fell to the floor.”

  “Izzie?” I ask, wanting clarification.