Won't You Be My Neighbor?

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Won't You Be My Neighbor? Page 9

by Vanessa Gray Bartal


  “You go to church?” he interrupted.

  “Doesn’t everyone?” she asked.

  “Not anymore,” was his cryptic reply. “You’ve been working on a project at your church. Proceed.”

  “I’ve been reorganizing the library.” Until now she had been staring at the grass between them, but she looked up with a defiant scowl. “I like to organize things.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” he asked. “Go on.”

  “Today was going well.” She paused again, thinking of her morning session with Tristan. There had been so much good to report. Was it worth it to keep putting herself out there if she was only going to get shot down? “And then this lady came into the library and…” she broke off again, remembering.

  “And,” Sully prompted. Was it her imagination that he sounded tense? She glanced up to check his expression and saw it filled with an answering anxiety. His concern gave her the courage she needed to continue.

  “And she yelled at me.” She finished in a whisper and waited for his reaction.

  He blinked at her a few times. “And then what?”

  “That was it. She yelled at me. A lot,” she added. “She said some mean things and pointed her finger.”

  “Did she hit you?” he asked. She shook her head. “Steal your purse? Run up a fortune on your credit card? Key your car?”

  She kept shaking her head until he got to the last part. Then she sat up in exasperation. “Of course not. She just yelled at me. It was very embarrassing.”

  “People yell all the time,” Sully said.

  “Not at me,” Blair said. “I don’t do well with confrontation. I don’t like it.”

  “No one likes it,” he said. “Well, crazy people probably like it. But there’s no accounting for crazy. You can’t give them credence, Miss P. Who cares if some lady yelled at you? You didn’t do anything wrong, did you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why do you care?”

  “Because I do,” she wailed. “I don’t talk to many people, I don’t reach out, and this is why. I don’t like being yelled at and attacked. This is like my worst nightmare come true.”

  “But you survived,” Sully said. “Maybe it was uncomfortable and unpleasant.”

  “No maybe; it was,” she said.

  “Okay, so it was uncomfortable and unpleasant, but you’re intact. What’s the big deal? Obviously the problem is hers. Move on and let it go.”

  “Gee, why didn’t I think of that?” Blair said. She sat up taller so she was on her knees, but she was still no match for his height. “You make it sound easy, but if it was easy, then I wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

  “What predicament?” he asked.

  She didn’t want to tell him about her therapy sessions with Tristan. “This!” she said instead, circling her arms to encompass her yard. “Pouring out my problems to a crazy neighbor who thinks I’m only after his body,” she said.

  His eyes widened and his mouth fell. Blair realized she had been yelling. Her face flooded with heat. She covered it with her hands, sat back, and groaned. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

  “Me, neither,” Sully said. “I thought you wanted me for my money. I never guessed it was my body all along.”

  She peeped at him from between her fingers. He wasn’t smiling, but she somehow knew he was teasing her. “You delight in my mortification,” she accused.

  “You keep providing me with ample opportunity for delight,” he said.

  They sat in silence that felt oddly peaceful for a few minutes. By all rights, Blair should want to run away and burrow her face in the couch until the embarrassment passed. With anyone else, she would have. But her neighbor had a way of disarming her. Maybe because he had made such a huge fool of himself that she felt she had a long way to go to catch up. She smiled; she liked that theory a lot.

  “You know what you need?” he said at last.

  “What?” she asked. The question wasn’t rhetorical; she truly wanted to know what she needed.

  “A night out to forget your problems. Let’s go to a movie.”

  He looked as surprised as she did by the suggestion, making her wonder how well he had thought it through. Her knee-jerk reaction was to say no, but she hadn’t been to a movie in forever. Suddenly it sounded like fun. “Which movie?” she asked.

  “I’ll let you choose because you’re sad,” he said.

  “I’m not sad,” she said and was surprised to realize it was true.

  “I’ll choose then,” he volunteered.

  She shrugged, half curious over what he would pick. “All right. Let me grab my purse,” she said. She stood and he handed her the trowel and watering can. He followed her to her house as she put the watering can and trowel under the sink, washed her hands, and grabbed her purse.

  “Our houses are mirror images of each other,” he commented. She turned to see him leaning in the doorway, one shoulder propped in the jamb as if he needed the assistance to stand. She had seen him stand that way a few times now, and she didn’t like it. Not standing straight was sloppy.

  He noticed her inspection and smiled as if he could read her thoughts. “I’m on my feet all day and I’m tired. Don’t you ever lean, Miss P?”

  She tried to think of a time she had ever leaned on a door or wall for support, but she was interrupted by his laughter. “You’re really thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “You asked me a question. What’s so odd about trying to think about the answer?”

  He shook his head, still smiling. “Are you ready?”

  “Am I allowed to think about that?” she asked.

  He reached out and grasped her elbow, half herding and half tugging her toward the door.

  “You’re pushy,” she accused.

  “The list of my negative character traits is growing by leaps and bounds in your estimation,” he said.

  “It really is,” she agreed. She listed them on her fingers after she buckled her seatbelt. “Pushy, bossy, slovenly, rude, argumentative, conceited, condescending,” she paused, counting her fingers to see if she missed anything.

  “Is that it?” he asked.

  “Sarcastic and smug,” she finished.

  “You have a finger leftover,” he noted.

  “I like to try and see the good in people,” she said. “I’m saving a finger for your goodness.”

  “What do you have for that one so far?” he asked.

  “You fixed my door. And my foot. And I suppose you sort of brought me back to consciousness after I fell off the ladder. And you fixed my car and my smoke detector.” She frowned at her fingers. “That’s sort of a lot. I suppose I could remove condescending and give you two fingers for goodness. Just know that you have a finger on the line. I can take it away at any time.”

  “You might as well go ahead and take it away. I gave up trying to be good a long time ago,” he said.

  He sounded so sincere that Blair felt remorse for teasing him. “You’re not so bad,” she said.

  Sully parked the car and turned to smile at her. “Miss P, you don’t know the half of it.”

  Blair didn’t reply. She wasn’t one of those people who said something when she had nothing to say. If she couldn’t frame the proper response, then she stayed silent. But she was curious about the comment. Was he joking? Sometimes with Sully it was hard to tell. If he wasn’t joking, then what was he talking about? Had he said the comment with shame or pride? If he was hiding some mysterious ill deed, did he feel remorse or pleasure over it?

  There was a box office lag, the time of year between blockbuster releases when movie studios trotted out small movies without a lot of hype. Those were usually the types of movies Blair liked better anyway. Sometimes they had better stories than the powerhouses with special effects. She wondered if Sully thought the same thing because he had no trouble choosing a slice-of-life comedy.

  “Popcorn?” he asked after they purchased their tickets.

&nb
sp; Blair shook her head and stood dutifully by while he ordered a large popcorn and soda. She didn’t usually offer commentary on other people’s lives, but she couldn’t help herself today. “You’re a doctor. How can you eat that stuff?”

  “With extra salt and butter,” he answered. He received his overflowing popcorn and held it out to her. She had to admit that it smelled and looked good, but she refused. He was smiling, so that probably meant he was getting ready to tease her, but she didn’t get the opportunity to find out.

  “Dr. Evans?”

  Sully tensed at the sound of a female voice behind them. Blair thought maybe she saw him grimace, but she couldn’t be sure. He plastered a grim smile on his face before turning to look at the speaker.

  “Hello, Sharon.”

  “I thought that was you,” Sharon said, beaming. “I didn’t take you for a movie buff.”

  “Everyone needs a hobby,” Sully said.

  The conversation ran out of steam as Sharon turned her attention to Blair. Her smile lost some of its sunshine.

  “This is Blair,” Sully said.

  “Hello,” Sharon said.

  “Hi,” Blair replied. She resisted the urge to hide behind Sully’s back and peek out. The frost in the woman’s tone wasn’t her imagination.

  “We should take our seats,” Sully said. “C’mon, Blair.” He turned and headed toward the theater. Blair trotted behind, clasping her hands in an attempt to hide her anxiety. She wasn’t sure what just happened, but she knew she had somehow been involved.

  Sully sat with a sigh. He settled his soda into the holder between them. “Sorry about that,” he said.

  “I don’t know what just happened,” Blair said.

  “Neither do I,” Sully admitted. “Sharon works in medical records at the hospital. I think she has a bit of a crush on me.”

  “You think everyone has a crush on you,” Blair said, but in this case, she thought it was probably true. Sharon had the same look in her eyes that hunters get right before they take down a big buck.

  “I have good reason to think that,” Sully said. “For some reason, when women hear the words ‘single’ and ‘doctor’ together in a sentence, they lose their heads.”

  “Why?” Blair asked.

  “Because they assume all doctors are rich. But they forget to factor in my med school loans, not to mention my undergrad loans, my mortgage, and my car loan. I’ll be paying off debt for the next couple of decades, and then some. I am not rich. And, even if I were, I do not want to get married.”

  “I remember hearing that somewhere before,” Blair said.

  Sully took a breath and tried to relax. “Sorry. You can probably tell I’m a bit touchy on this subject.”

  “You’re kidding,” Blair said.

  “It’s true. I cover it well, but I become a little unhinged when a woman starts chasing me.” He turned to glance behind them and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Sharon’s sitting a few rows back. Maybe you’re going to think I’m even crazier than you already do, but I think she’s following me. I can’t find it, but I think she put some sort of GPS tracking device on me.”

  “Are you making that up?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “She shows up everywhere I go and then acts like it was an accident. It’s driving me nuts, but I can’t prove anything, so I can’t call her on it.”

  “When has lack of proof stopped you before?” Blair whispered.

  He grinned and resisted the urge to reach out and try to tousle her not-to-be-tousled hair. “I’ve grown, and I have you to thank for it.”

  The previews started. Sully handed her his popcorn. Blair ate without thinking, a huge mistake because then she couldn’t stop. Since when did movie popcorn taste so addictively good? Now she was thirsty and had nothing to drink.

  Sully, prescient again, handed her his soda. She stared at it. She had a hard-and-fast rule about never drinking after other people. The Surgeon General was pretty clear on that; sharing drinks was a sure way to share germs. But she was parched, and Sully appeared clean. He was a doctor. He wouldn’t give her his drink if he had a communicable disease. Would he?

  “Are you going to drink it or memorize it?” he whispered.

  She sipped and tried hard not to think about backwash.

  He took it back from her with a shake of his head and an almost inaudible, “Miss P.”

  The movie was an engrossing mix of drama and comedy. Blair forgot everything as she immersed herself in the story. Every time a movie ended in the theater, she experienced the same sensation, as if she was just waking up. This time even more so because, when the lights came up, she found Sully’s empty popcorn and soda containers in her lap. Her suspiciously-full belly told her she had probably eaten more than her fair share of his food.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. Her tone conveyed her dismay. “How long have I been eating these?”

  “Since the last time I tried to reach for them and you twisted away from me,” he said.

  “No, I didn’t,” Blair declare.

  He nodded.

  “I’m so sorry,” she repeated.

  “Do you want me to stop at the store and get a pint of ice cream so you can pretend not to eat that, too?”

  Blair pressed her hand to her stomach. “Ugh, no. I’m not used to eating so much junk food.”

  “Did you enjoy the movie, Dr. Evans?”

  Sharon appeared out of nowhere, startling Sully and Blair. “It was okay,” Sully answered, his tone wary.

  “I loved it,” Sharon gushed. “I cried a few times. I had no idea you were a movie fan. I love movies. Maybe we could go together sometime.”

  “Actually, I don’t go to movies that often,” Sully said. He began edging toward the door, tugging Blair by her elbow again.

  Sharon followed. “We could do something else,” she said.

  Sully didn’t answer. Blair noted the haunted, trapped look in his eyes and Sharon stalked closer. The outside doors came into view, and he quickened their pace.

  Sharon, undaunted, continued her pursuit. “I baked banana bread. Goes well with coffee. You want some coffee? You could come over.”

  Sully opened Blair’s car door and practically shoved her inside. He hustled to the driver’s side, started the car, and threw it into gear.

  Sharon was forced to jump aside or be run over. “Call me,” she yelled as she clung to the side mirror of a nearby minivan.

  Sully and Blair were quiet as they eased out of the parking lot. A couple of minutes after they were on the road, Blair spoke.

  “That was terrifying.”

  “Welcome to my world,” Sully said.

  “I thought you were exaggerating. Is it always like that?”

  He shook his head. “Some women are more subtle. I get a lot of cookies.” He quirked an eyebrow in her direction.

  “I did not bake cookies for you,” she pointed out.

  “You can see why I might have thought you were hitting on me,” he said.

  “I suppose. But I wasn’t,” she added.

  When he didn’t answer, she started to worry.

  “You know that, right?” she prompted.

  They arrived at her house. He put the car into park and turned if off before answering. “Maybe you’re just that good. Maybe the break-in was staged. Maybe the cookies were for me, you knew I was watching when you dove off the ladder, you drained your car battery on purpose. Maybe you’re the greatest mastermind of them all, Miss P.”

  She searched his expressionless face, unable to tell if he was joking. “You’re delusional. What possible reason would I have for doing all that?”

  “Because it worked,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve taken a woman to a movie since I finished my residency.” He opened his door and she understood that he intended to walk her to her door. She was suddenly nervous. What if this was a date the same way her evening with Tim had been a date, only she didn’t realize? What if Sully tried to kiss her? No, she would put
her foot down; she couldn’t stand that again. True, Sully didn’t have a mustache, but even so, she didn’t want to kiss him or anyone.

  He plucked the key from her hand without asking, opened her door, and poked his head inside as he turned on the light. “All clear,” he said. He pulled his head back out and leveled his gaze on her. “If you were really good, you would have had someone waiting inside so I would have had to rescue you as soon as we opened the door.”

  She was sure he was teasing her, even though he said it without smiling. “I’ll put that on my list for next time. Maybe Sharon and I can get together and compare notes.”

  He laughed, and she smiled. “About tomorrow,” he said, his expression turning serious. “Don’t be a doormat, Miss P. If the old biddy comes back to yell at you again, tell her where she can get off.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that,” she said.

  “Then at least tell her not to yell at you anymore,” he said.

  “I can probably handle that.”

  “Good.” He started to go and paused, turning back. “Do you mind if I try something that’s been on my mind all night?”

  She froze as if going perfectly still could stop the coming kiss, if that was what he had in mind. “What?”

  “This.” He reached out and tousled her hair with both hands. When he finished, she shook her head. Her hair fell back into place. “I knew it,” he said. “See you later, Miss P.”

  “What an odd man,” she muttered as she watched him walk away.

  Chapter 8

  Sully’s little pep talk helped prepare Blair to go back to the church. Until then, she had planned never to go back again. His reaction, along with his words, made her realize that she was being overly sensitive. Who cared if someone yelled at her? She was doing what she had been asked to do; she hadn’t done anything wrong.

  Still, she skulked around like a cat burglar, keeping a keen eye out for the woman who had screamed at her. Not until she fully lost herself in her task was she able to relax.

  “Excuse me.”

  The small voice could never be confused with that of the screaming woman, but still Blair jumped. The old woman’s teenage companion stood in the doorway, looking as frightened as Blair probably did.

 

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