Love Thy Neighbor

by Bobbie Sue Ellison

  By custom, only women with a male escort or in groups come to the club but the same is not true of men. By nine the bar will be crowded with single men all on the lookout for female companionship. Some – but certainly not all – will get lucky and my friends hope that I will make some man lucky this night.

  We’ve been here many times before and it hasn’t happened.

  I’m still alone…

  We get the attention of a passing waiter and order drinks. No waitresses just waiters who also act as bouncers, the club is very safe, rowdy behavior is dealt with rapidly and efficiently. The drinks arrive quickly accompanied by a bowl of chips. No food is served so the chips will have to do.

  Gradually the club fills up. All the bar stools are filled first, the single men are usually the first to arrive so that they can inspect the women as they come in. The entrance is near the bar, designed purposely that way I’m sure, to allow the men to view the parade of women as they arrive.

  The dance floor separates us from the bar by about thirty feet and since no one is yet dancing we can be easily seen by the men at the bar. My friends make a show of their wedding rings and the message is clear. They are off limits but my ring-less finger says that I am fair game.

  At nine on the dot the DJ begins. Almost immediately people begin to fill up the dance floor and that seems to be the signal for the single men at the bar to begin to circulate among the tables looking for dance partners.

  I am not chosen immediately but after a while a nice looking but rather overweight man asks me to dance. I agree and we find a spot on the now-crowded floor. The music is too loud for conversation but he manages to introduce himself as Carl and I respond with Tonya.

  The dance ends but the DJ immediately spins up another song so we continue. Carl is not a bad dancer but I can tell that he’s getting winded so after this dance we stop. He offers me a drink but I decline, thanking him but pointing out that I’m with friends. He walks me back to my table and I give him a brief hug.

  * * *

  The rest of the night goes much the same. I dance with several more men and turn down several more drinks, refuse several requests for my phone number, and reject a few invitations to leave with them. Being single is a bitch.

  And I’m still alone…

  Finally the Coven agrees that this was an unproductive night and we leave. Outside the club we hug goodnight and Janice drives me home. I invite her in but we are both tired so she declines and goes home to her husband and kids.

  I go in my apartment, kick off my shoes, drop my dress on the floor and without taking off my makeup fall into bed. I am almost immediately asleep.

  Alone…

  * * *

  Sunday and another day off and nothing to do. The laundry is done, clothes put away, bed is changed, apartment is clean, and food is in the refrigerator. I decide to go to a park that Ethan and I used to visit. Bad memories I know but I can’t avoid them forever. I quickly dress in jeans, a tee shirt and sneakers, grab my purse and car keys and head out to the parking lot.

  As I approach my car I realize that something is wrong, it seems to be leaning a bit to one side. I take a look, a flat tire. Wonderful. Now my day will be spent waiting for AAA to show up, they are always horribly busy on weekends.

  Just as I take out my phone to call I hear footsteps on the gravel path behind me. I turn to see Brad approaching me. He must see the pissed off look on my face as he gets closer.

  “Problem?”

  “Flat tire, I’m calling AAA.”

  “Let me look,” he says and kneels down by the tire and rubs his hand around the tread.

  “I don’t feel a nail or anything, maybe it just needs air.”

  “I still need AAA for that.”

  “Maybe not,” Brad says as he stands, “I have a small tire inflator just for this, I’ll get it.”

  He walks to his car and pulls a small box from his trunk and brings it over.

  “Plug this into your cigarette lighter,” he says handing me a plug on the end of a long wire.

  As I comply he again kneels by the tire and attaches a hose to the tire valve. With everything connected his little machine begins to make a humming noise which I assume is air going into the tire.

  “This will take a few minutes to fill the tire,” he announces, “shall we sit?”

  We walk to a nearby bench and sit while the machine hums away.

  “What brings you to live in this palatial building,” Brad begins the conversation.

  “I’m newly divorced and had to quickly find a place to live and this was available,” I reply honestly. I can sense his eyes examining my face, trying to guess my age. I can pass quite easily for a good five years under my real age of forty.

  “How long have you been living here,” my turn and I study his face.

  “Just over two years, since I retired from the army.”

  “You look too young to be retired,” I said, I visualized an older gray-haired man as a retiree.

  “I’m actually thirty-eight,” he laughed, “I graduated from West Point when I was twenty-one and served almost eighteen years when I broke my hip in a parachute jump,” he explained, “That disqualified me from serving in combat so I could either take a desk job or a disability retirement. Being chained to an army desk didn’t appeal to me so here I am.”

  “What do you do now?”

  “My West Point degree is in structural engineering so I work for a local architectural firm helping them design big buildings.”

  “Isn’t that a desk job,” I challenge him.

  “Yes,” he admits, “but I get to visit suppliers and job sites and that’s interesting as I can see what I’ve been designing. What about you, what do you do?”

  “Nothing as exciting as jumping out of airplanes or designing big buildings,” I laugh, “I’m a manager at a large credit card call center. We provide all types of service to credit card holders from changing addresses to handling lost and stolen credit cards.”

  “Are you married,” I blurt out. I had gotten a look at his left hand and didn’t see a ring.

  “No. Almost a while back but she decided that being married to a career army man didn’t fit in with her plans,” he said rather sadly, “and no girlfriend either,” he added sensing my curiosity.

  We sit quietly for a while, not knowing what else to say.

  “Look,” he said suddenly, sitting up and pointing to my car, “Your tire seems to be okay now,” and he gets up and walks to my car. I follow him as he kneels down to shut off the inflator, “thirty two pounds and it seems to be holding pressure, I don’t think that there’s a puncture.”

  He disconnects the inflator from the tire and unplugs it from my cigarette lighter.

  “Drive it around for a few minutes and bring it back, I’ll wait and if it’s still okay then I think it will be fine.”

  I do as he suggests and when I get back he is waiting. He inspects the tire and pronounces it fixed.

  “Thank you so much,” I say as I step out, “you saved me from losing an entire day waiting for AAA. Can I give you something,” I offer but the look on his face made me think that I insulted him.

  “No, of course not, we’re neighbors,” he refused but smiling he said , “but a cup of coffee sometime would be nice.”

  “Of course, any time. Now?”

  “I can’t now, I have to be somewhere in a few minutes. Rain check?”

  “Sure. Come knock on my door anytime. 1A.”

  Brad put his machine back in his truck and with a wave drives off. After giving my now inflated tire a critical look I too drive off, looking forward to an enjoyable walk in the park.

  I’m still alone…

  Chapter Four

  Its two weeks later, another Sunday, that I get a knock at my door, it’s later, almost seven o’clock. I open it to find Brad standing there, a big smile on his face. Since so much time had passed I assumed that he either forgot about my offer or he decided that he wasn’t inter
ested in having coffee with a slightly older divorced black woman.

  But here he is, holding a box that I recognize as being from a local bakery in his hand.

  “Come in,” I invite as I hold the door wide and as he enters he hands me the box.

  “Can’t have coffee without cookies,” he says as I take the box.

  “Sit down,” I offer pointing to the couch, “decaf or regular?”

  “Regular,” he replies as he takes his seat.

  I’m a bit nervous as I carefully measure out the coffee and water. Brad is the first man that I’ve been alone with since Ethan and a white man at that.

  While waiting for the coffee to be ready I busy myself by arranging Brad’s cookies on a plate and getting out the cups, milk, sugar, spoons, napkins, and plates. Even though this isn’t a date I’m as nervous as a teen age girl the first time a boy visits her home.

  Finally the coffee is ready and I carefully pour two cups. I place the filled cups on a tray with the other things and carry it to the small table in front of the couch.

  “Help yourself to the milk and sugar.”

  “I take it black but thanks, you didn’t need to go to all this trouble.”

  “It’s the least I can do for a man who fixes tires and brings me cookies,” I confess and we both laugh, the tension is broken.

  I fix my coffee, light with two teaspoons of sugar, and pass the plate of cookies. I notice that my hand is shaking a bit, I hope that Brad doesn’t notice.

  We both take a cookie and bite into them. I’m sure that they are delicious but I’ve lost all sense of taste. I want to talk, make conversation, but I can’t think of a thing to say. And that’s not at all like me.

  “These cookies are delicious,” I finally manage to stutter, and shove the rest of it in my mouth.

  “Yes they are,” Brad agrees, “I love all types of pastry. I discovered this bakery just after I moved in and I’m a regular customer. They bake wonderful breads too.”

  We become silent again. Brad sips his coffee contently and eats another cookie. He seems as cool as a cucumber while inside I’m a nervous wreck. What’s wrong with me? I grab another cookie and bite off a chunk.

  “Those are my favorite,” he says, “I usually get a boxful of just those but today I got an assortment so you could sample them.”

  “They’re all wonderful,” I agree. Since I just stuffed the entire cookie in my mouth I have no idea which one is his favorite. But why is that important to me I wonder?

  We sit quietly just munching cookies and drinking our coffee.

  “Want a refill,” I ask pointing to his empty cup.

  “I really have to go, I have an early day. We’re inspecting a job site and I have to be there at seven.”

  “Okay,” I say. I’m partly glad that he’s going as I really don’t know what else to say or do and partly I just don’t want him to go but I can’t explain why.

  As we rise from the couch he starts to pick up his cup and plate.

  “Leave them,” I order, “the maid will get them,” and we both laugh.

  I walk him to the door and open it. We stand there for a moment in awkward silence and then he takes me into his arms in a gentle friendly hug.

  “Thanks for the coffee,” he says in my ear and then releases me.

  “Thank you for the cookies and the air in my tires,” I reply looking him in the eyes. Nice brown eyes, I notice.

  “Speaking of cookies you forgot them,” I say as I turn to get the box from the kitchen.

  “Keep them for another time,” he replies implying another ‘date’.

  For some reason I am pleased with the idea of seeing him again.

  “Yes, anytime,” I agree and he is gone.

  I shut the door and begin to clean up. I am happy.

  But I’m still alone…

  Chapter Five

  I awake the next morning and go to my kitchen to prepare my morning coffee. I see cookie crumbs on the counter and I am instantly reminded of the previous evening. I can see Brad sitting opposite me on the couch, a large space between us. I can see his face, a nice face. Round, with a pleasant smile topped by a somewhat unruly patch of dark brown hair. A nice match to the brown eyes I looked into as he hugged me.

  I’m tall for a woman, about five eight and he’s taller, maybe close to six feet. Not fat or thin but a fit looking body, probably due to his army service. Nice arms and hands too, the hug he gave me was firm but gentle.

  And he’s not married, silly stupid woman she was to give him up.

  Girlfriend maybe? Or boyfriend? He doesn’t seem gay but he didn’t try to come on to me last night. Because I’m black? Or older than him? Or just not all that attractive? The men at the club seem to find me attractive but most of them would settle for anything in a skirt.

  And really, why do I care? I’m black, he’s white and we’re just neighbors. He did me a big favor by fixing my flat tire and I repaid him with coffee. Period.

  I shower, dress, put on my minimal makeup and go to work.

  Alone…

  * * *

  My week is uneventful. Work is work after all and I’m lucky to have a job and it pays well. I speak on the phone with my coven friends frequently but neglect to tell them about Brad. I don’t really know why, the whole thing is innocent enough but I can’t bring myself to tell them about the handsome neighbor who fixed my tire, brought me cookies and had coffee alone with me in my apartment. Oh yes, and he’s also white.

  Saturday morning comes along with the usual call from Janice giving me my marching orders for going to the club that night. I agree to meet them at the appointed time and set about doing my usual Saturday chores. As I prepare to take the first load to the laundry room I wonder if Brad will be there. Am I afraid that he will be there or do I want to see him? I’m really not sure but I grab the basket and bottle of detergent and go down the stairs.

  As I approach I hear voices but they are definitely female as I confirm as I walk in. Two women from the building who I recognize stop their conversation as I enter and go to an empty washer. We exchange friendly nods and smiles and they resume their talk, apparently about their children. I take my time loading the washer, stretching it out as long as possible. Am I waiting for Brad or just killing time, I don’t know.

  I finally finish and with a smile and wave at the women I leave and walk up the stairs. As I walk past Brad’s door I slow down and listen but no sounds from inside can be heard. I consider knocking on his door and inviting him for coffee but it’s only nine-thirty, maybe he’s still sleeping.

  I return to my apartment and make busy work while waiting for my laundry to finish.

  And I’m alone…

  * * *

  The morning passes. More trips to the laundry but no Brad and still no sounds from behind his apartment door. I am again tempted to knock but I don’t, I think that I’m afraid that he might actually answer and then what? What would I say, “Hi Brad want to come have coffee and cookies? We could sit on my couch and let me stare uncomfortably at you.”

  Since my laundry is done and my apartment clean I decide to go shopping. I grab my purse and keys and head out to my car. I carefully inspect all four tires -- am I hoping one of them is flat? They are all fine so I drive to the local supermarket.

  Alone…

  * * *

  When I return I notice that Brad’s car is gone, it was there when I left. Where did he go I wonder, is he meeting someone, a woman? Or a man? Or did he go to the supermarket too? And really, why do I care?

  But I do, I wonder why?

  * * *

  It’s early evening and after a quick dinner I decide to get ready for the club. I lay out much the same clothes as I’ve worn before, it seems to be the required uniform. I take a luxurious bath and leisurely dress and put on my makeup.

  While waiting for my Uber I take a look in the parking lot. Brad’s car is still missing.

  Why do I care?

  The Uber arrives and
I am soon greeting my friends outside the club. We enter and take our usual place at a table near the dance floor. At nine the DJ begins and the men begin to circulate, checking out the women as usual. I find myself looking for Brad but this is a black club and few white men and even fewer white women ever come in.

  I accept a few invitations to dance and actually enjoy myself. Black men are usually good dancers, Ethan certainly was, and I find myself wondering if Brad is a good dancer.

  Why do I care?

  I decline all requests for phone numbers and invitations to leave so once again it is a fruitless night. We finally leave and after the customary hugs Janice drives me home. On the way I almost tell her about Brad but I don’t.

  I wonder why?

  Janice drops me off and leaves to go home to her husband and kids. I go into the building and on the way to my apartment go to the parking lot where I see that Brad’s car has returned.

  Why do I care?

  I listen at his apartment door but hear nothing.

  Why do I care?

  I enter my apartment, undress and fall into bed. I am almost immediately asleep.

  Alone…

  * * *

  Sunday and I decide to sleep late so I silence the six AM alarm and roll over. I doze fitfully and finally give up and get out of bed less than fifteen minutes later. When I go to make coffee I see the box of cookies. Will this Sunday evening be a repeat of last week? Do I want it to be? I really don’t know.

  Curious, I throw on some clothes and walk down the hall to the door to the parking lot. Brad’s car is there but it’s early. I listen at his door but no sounds, maybe he is sleeping late too.

  Why do I care?

  I have no real plans for the day so after a quick lunch I decide to lie on the couch and read one of the many books that I promised to read but never got too. I am thoroughly engrossed when a knock on the door startles me. I manage to recover and jump up to answer it. I open the door to find Brad standing there.