The Neighbors

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The Neighbors Page 21

by Hannah Mary McKinnon


  In the end it was only a kiss, but it had made me feel young, desired—daring. Something I hadn’t felt for years, not since I’d traveled to exotic places, slept with exotic men—and one woman—before I’d met Liam and my sense of adventure had been replaced with an unmistakable desire to nurture.

  I hadn’t been truthful to Nate about our story; then again I hadn’t told anyone about the evening when Liam and I had gone for dinner with my mother. How he’d held the chair out for her, gotten up when she’d gone to the bathroom and paid the bill in a swift, elegant, yet unpretentious gesture.

  “He’s a good one, Nancy,” Mum had told me while he fetched our coats. “You’d better hold on to him. A girl like you will never get another one like that.”

  A girl like you. Although I’d heard them a million times, the words still burned like invisible branding on my skin. Mum never meant to be nasty, and if I’d called her on it she’d have been mortified to see me upset. Besides, I understood what she meant. Her expectations for herself had never been high, and those feelings had inevitably trickled down to her only child, drip, drip, drip, forming around me like a stalagmite.

  Mum looked around, leaned in and whispered, “He still hasn’t proposed then?”

  “Not yet, Mum. I don’t think he’s ready.”

  “Men are never ready, dear.” She patted my arm. “Not until us women help them along.”

  I’d looked at Liam when he came back to the table, watched as he helped my mother slip on her coat, genuinely complimenting her on how the cut flattered her figure. She was right. I’d never get another man like him.

  It had been an easy decision. Simple to lie about my contraception and religiously flush it down the toilet—a thrilling sensation, like going behind the bike sheds at school with a cigarette—only feeling slightly guilty when I told Liam, with a well-practiced, astonished expression, that I was pregnant.

  I shook the memories from my head and looked at the alarm clock that now indicated a few minutes before midnight, then wondered what Liam would do if I told him about Nate. Would it be enough to make him jealous? Would he even care? He hadn’t touched me in weeks, barely acknowledged my presence half of the time. His continual distance had sent waves of rage through my body, especially when I wondered if he was touching someone else instead.

  Then again, I reasoned, taking a deep breath, Nate had a point about Liam’s work. Better job, new boss, new location. It all added up but it was still unacceptable. He wasn’t the only one working hard. What about all the renovations I was taking care of, as well as running the household and taking care of Zac while he’d had a rotten cold? But on top of working long hours, Liam still went for his workouts—some of them with Abby, who obviously neglected Nate as much as Liam did me—even though he’d repeatedly encouraged me to join them in their ridiculous training.

  Telling Nate there was no way anything could be going on between his wife and my husband was another thing I’d fibbed about. With the amount of time they spent together, I couldn’t help but wonder, and the mere thought made me oscillate between wanting to collapse in a heap, and gouge Liam’s and Abby’s eyes out with my bare hands.

  I reminded myself Liam didn’t have time for an affair, that’d he’d never go for a frigid stick insect like Abby, but what if he had? Or what if they were using each other for cover? Meeting their respective lovers and laughing about it behind our backs? I shook my head. I’d watched way too many bad soap operas and conspiracy theories on television.

  Still, to be sure, I’d checked his phone when he was in the shower, looked through his social media for clues and searched his pockets a few times, but I hadn’t found anything. Either he was extremely clever at covering his tracks, or his coldness really was because of pressure from work.

  A short while ago I’d have told myself to be more sensitive to his needs. Now that sounded like something from a 1950s Good House Wife’s Guide. Liam and I were supposed to be equal partners in everything, and yet it felt I’d always made most of the effort. I’d chased him, adored him, put him on a towering pedestal and openly begged him to reverse the favor. I was no better than a lovesick, attention-seeking puppy. And frankly, I was sick of it. I was sick of Liam’s behavior toward me, but not as sick as I was of mine toward him.

  I smiled in the darkness as it dawned on me that Liam’s lack of interest felt less important now that I had my little secret with Nate. The way I saw it, my husband took me for granted, and Abby did the same to Nate. So the two of us were simply balancing things out with a little innocent spice. I’d backed off when he’d said no, made myself appear vulnerable, but I wasn’t a fool. I could tell how difficult it had been for him to resist me.

  As I thought about Nate I slipped a hand between my legs, imagining all the things my naughty neighbor could do to me. I didn’t need my husband. Right now I had plenty to distract myself with, both in my mind, and in reality. And I wasn’t done yet.

  The more I thought about Nate the more it dawned on me how good he was. Humble, kind and generous. Sexy, too, although it had taken me a while to see it. If we were together, he wouldn’t neglect me the way Liam did. Nate would worship me like a goddess, and in return I’d show him how grateful I was. I wouldn’t take him for granted.

  Liam didn’t care about my closeness to Nate. But I did. And I’d be making damn sure Nate cared about it, too.

  NOW

  SARAH

  Dear Diary,

  You know how I hate girls who go gooey-eyed over puppies, babies and guys (the worst!)? Well, apologies for what I’m about to write, but...I went on a date with Brian today. A proper date. And, bloody hell, he’s fantastic. I mean, really fantastic.

  Ugh! I just reread that and want to slap my face, but I can’t help it! I didn’t see Brian for a while at school. Paranoid as I am, I figured he was avoiding me—came to his senses and regretted he’d flirted with me, and now needed to bail. But then I found out he’d been ill. And on Thursday, there he was, walking down the corridor and coming toward me.

  He smelled faintly of menthol chest rub, his nose shone brighter than Rudolph’s and I noticed his chest (those pecs!) heave up and down as he tried to hold in a cough. I asked if he was okay. On cue, his lungs exploded and he held up a hand, coughed again, then smiled (that smile!).

  Turns out he had the flu. The flu! Not that I’m happy he was ill, but it explains why I hadn’t seen him. Then he rubbed the back of his neck (Claire told me it totally means a guy’s nervous) talked a bit about math class and...

  Him: Uh... I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me?

  (That’s another thing Brian does—uses ‘like’ in the proper way, not the way I do, like, every third word.)

  Me (thinking I’d misheard): On a date? Like, with you?

  Him (smiling, and, oh, those dimples, kill me now!): Yes, Sarah. On a date. With me.

  We decided to go to the cinema on Saturday afternoon because he volunteers at the pet shelter in the mornings. The pet shelter! How cool is this guy? Anyway, I told him I’d meet him there directly. I mean, if Mum knew I was going out with a boy she’d make the Spanish Inquisition look like a family-friendly picnic.

  That was Thursday, so I still had to get through Friday and part of today. I’m not sure how I managed. But I wondered if Brian felt like that, too, even a little, although I couldn’t imagine him feeling anxious or insecure, like, ever. Not until I saw him anyway. Then things changed.

  He gave me a peck on the cheek when I got to the cinema, and after he bought the tickets and we sat down, he kept chatting about school (ready for university), his career (wants to be a lawyer) and about his parents (married for almost twenty years, happily!). Honestly, I could hardly get a word in. Then he stopped, practically mid-sentence, and glanced over.

  Him: I haven’t shut up yet, have I? I’m not usually this nervous.

  Me (laughing): You,
nervous? Don’t you take a girl out every Saturday?

  Him (wait for it...): Only the special ones.

  I was about to reply when I saw Zac and Nicole a few meters away from us with Cokes and a bucket of popcorn bigger than Zac’s head. Actually I wished he’d put it over his head.

  I introduced them to Brian, who said hi so politely. Nicole flicked her hair and looked away. Zac said, “S’up” and I wanted to slap him, but Brian just smiled until they took the hint and sat down a few rows ahead of us, Nicole still swishing her perfectly primped, pretentious hair.

  The adverts came on, then the trailers, and Brian and I kept on whispering. Then the movie started, and I had to stop myself from glancing sideways to make sure Brian actually was next to me, not some figment of my overactive, amateur writer’s imagination. But he put his hand on my thigh and I put mine over his. And we sat like that until the end of the credits, him stroking my hand with his thumb, me thinking Claire would never believe me when I told her.

  And when we said goodbye he gave me the softest kiss on the cheek (even though I totally would have kissed him on the lips) and asked if he could take me out again.

  Me = Swoon, gooey-eyes, swoon. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Gah! What’s happening to me?

  Later,

  Sarah xoxoxo.

  PS. Word of the day: gimcrack, noun.

  a showy object of little use or value: gewgaw.

  As in: Zac and Nicole are a pair of gimcracks!

  NOW

  ABBY

  SATURDAY MORNING. I lay in bed with a grin on my face, watching the time tick toward 6:00 a.m., trying not to bounce out of bed. Reading Sarah’s diary, finding out she’d gone on a date a week ago with a boy who sounded like a proper gentleman was only one of the reasons for my smile. The other was because in less than two hours, I’d see Liam again.

  Both he and I had known Nate and Nancy wouldn’t be interested in the mud run. That was the whole point. We’d come up with the plan at The Steam Room, not even half an hour after I’d called him. He’d been on his way back from work when I’d phoned, immediately turning the car around to come and meet me.

  “Are you okay?” he’d said before he sat down. “What’s wrong?”

  I smiled. “Nothing’s wrong. Liam, I...I...”

  “I know.” He reached over the table and put his hand over mine. “I miss you, too.”

  As I looked at him my shoulders dropped, and I left my hand under his. “We can’t jump into something. We have to be sure. I told you I won’t have a fling.”

  “It won’t be. It could never be just a fling.”

  “How can you be so sure, Liam? We—”

  “Because I know—”

  “—don’t even know each other anymore.”

  “We do. We always have.”

  I looked at him, told myself calling him had been a bad idea, but he smiled and squeezed my hand.

  “Look,” he said, “let’s spend some time together. Get to know each another again. Properly and—”

  “Oh, no.” I waggled a finger at him. “No sex.”

  He sat back in his chair and held up both palms in a surrendering gesture. “No sex.”

  That was when we’d come up with the mud run plan. It was simple. We’d spend time together, talk, figure out what we felt for each other, what we wanted from each other and, from there, what we were going to do.

  When we went training the first time and Liam put me through bear crawls and burpees, push-ups and more sit-ups than I could count, I couldn’t remember feeling so lighthearted and relaxed, or that I’d laughed as much in ages. After two hours of walking, jumping, running and sweaty groans completely unrelated to sex, we’d ended up sitting on tree stumps eating our lunch (had bread always tasted this good?).

  We’d quickly decided attempting to fit years of stories into half an hour was like trying to cram the Atlantic into a thimble. We had to see each other again, and soon.

  Back in my bed I watched the alarm clock take pity on me and finally change its ghostly green display to six o’clock. I pushed the blankets away and went to shower. When I came out of the bathroom Nate sat in bed reading.

  “You’re up early,” I said.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” he answered. “You look great. New Nikes?”

  “Oh, yes.” I dropped my shoes on the floor and quickly slid my hair into a ponytail, hoping he hadn’t noticed I’d washed it, and had put on a little blush and mascara, too. “My old ones were worn through.”

  Nate laughed. “Now there’s a surprise. Liam won’t be able to keep up.”

  “I’m sure he will. He’s very fit.”

  He put down his book on the bedside table. I thought a slight frown made its way across his face, but when I looked more closely it had gone. “You working out together again today?”

  “Yeah.” I shrugged. “You were right. I do feel safer running with someone.”

  “Even Liam?”

  I clicked my tongue. “He’s okay, I suppose. Not as much of a prat as I thought.” I laughed, making sure it sounded natural and not overdone. “Still a prat, though.”

  “But a good-looking one,” Nate said, keeping his gaze steady.

  Did he know something? Could he tell? I made sure I blinked only once and didn’t look away. “Yeah, not bad, I suppose. But he knows it. To be honest, it’s a bit off-putting. He whistled at a woman last time.” Liar.

  “With you there?”

  “Yup.” Double liar.

  “Ugh. No class.” Nate smiled. “Unlike you.”

  I bent over and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll see you later. Not sure when we’ll be back.”

  “No rush,” Nate said. “I’m laying the carpet with Nancy.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “You know, with the amount of stuff you’ve helped her with, I’m wondering what she’s doing to get so many favors.” I raised my eyebrows and smiled.

  Nate laughed, and a blush crept over his face. “Don’t be silly. You know me, I’m Bob the Builder.”

  “Yes, you are.” I waved at him. “Bye, Bob.”

  As I walked downstairs I imagined what would happen if Nate did like Nancy, or if there was the remote possibility they were actually having an affair. I waited to feel some kind of jealous pang in my gut, but it held still. Was it because I knew Nate wouldn’t cheat or that I wouldn’t be bothered if he did? After all, wouldn’t it give me the perfect excuse to leave?

  I thought back to what Camilla had said about waking up with the wrong person. But how could Nate be the wrong person when he was so good to me, when he’d do anything for me? Was I only attracted to Liam because of unfinished business? Or maybe it was an attempt to hold on to my youth? No. It was neither of those. I’d told Liam I had to be sure. But he was right. I already knew. I’d always known.

  As I walked over to his house, their front door opened and Zac walked out with his usual sullen expression, and I couldn’t help wondering what would happen if he smiled.

  “Morning, Zac. You’re up early.”

  “Saturday job at Boots.” He coughed hard, covering his mouth with the side of his arm.

  “Are you okay? You’re very pale. Liam mentioned you had the flu?”

  “Yeah.” He looked at me. “It’s been going around school.”

  “Well, I hope you feel better soon.”

  “Uh-huh. I’m late. See ya.”

  I watched as he meandered down the path, his long legs taking giantlike strides. He’d inherited his father’s dangerous combination—good looks and that certain je ne sais quoi charm easily mistaken for arrogance. Girls probably couldn’t decide whether to slap him or kiss him first. I knew he hadn’t confided in Liam about his girlfriend, and when I’d casually mentioned Nicole and Brian to Camilla, for once she didn’t have the inside scoop.

  “From what
Claire told me Nicole sounds like a proper little madam,” she’d said before beaming widely, “but this Brian? Gosh. He sounds wonderful. And don’t worry. I promise I won’t tell Claire or Sarah you asked.”

  Sarah hadn’t even told Nate about her boyfriend, and when I’d convinced him to ask her, jokingly and discreetly, if she was interested in anyone, he did it over dinner with me at the table. Sarah had looked straight at me, sniffed and said, “Well, you’d be the first to know.”

  I wished Sarah would bring Brian up in conversation, and I pictured us lying on her bed, me listening to her giggles as she described him, or her showing me pictures of him on her phone. No. That wasn’t the kind of relationship we’d ever enjoyed.

  Liam and Nancy’s front door opened again, and Liam stepped out, making my stomach go into a wild flutter. His skin had browned slightly from spending time in the garden, and he’d had his hair cut since I’d seen him last. It suited him. No matter what he did or wore, it suited him. He could have walked down a runway in nothing but a bin bag and eclipsed David Gandy and David Beckham simultaneously.

  “You’re ready for this?” he said with a smile, and held up a rucksack. “I’ve brought plenty of water in case you need to revive me.”

  “Give over.” I laughed as we walked to my car. “You know it’ll be the other way around.”

  “You want to do fifteen kilometers today. Fifteen. You know it’s called the Dirty Dozen for a reason, don’t you?”

  “Ha. You can handle an extra three kilometers, you big girl’s blouse.”

  “Big girl’s blouse? Just you wait, you’ll—”

  “Oh, I know. I’m already worried about the stuff you’ve got—”

  “Pah! Come on, what’s two hundred burpees between friends, eh?”

  “Famous last words,” I said as I unlocked the car and got in. “And if you make me do two hundred burpees again, Liam, I’ll beat you to death with my new shoes.” He snorted as he sat down, his long, toned legs stretched out in front of him. “Okay,” I said, “start at Jubilee again?”

 

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