A New Neighbour: Part 1
A New Neighbour: Part 1
By: ShireScribe
Elm Avenue was strangely enough, lined with elms. The sleepy little suburban street was wide, the side-walks paved, grassed and perfect in every way. Wood fronted, two story houses and white painted garage doors sat side by side. Identical lots, all picture perfect, the houses often painted in soft pastels as well as white. A postcard of 1950's American wholesomeness. Branches and leaves rustled, birds sang, the odd dog barked here and there. Lawn sprinklers clicked and showered gleaming, diamond droplets beneath the sun.
The peace was shattered by the rumbling approach, squeal of brakes and idling engine of a huge removals truck as it pulled up in front of a yellow painted house. One with a large 'For Sale' sign hammered into the turf of the front lawn. Another sign had been pasted to it. 'SOLD' in big, red letters. A car that had been following the truck swung around it to pull into the drive. The truck engine died. Doors opened and men leapt down. The driver of the car looked around the quiet street as he made his way to the front door of the yellow house, and began to try several keys on it. It took a little time. Perhaps the audience was unsettling him. Up and down the street curtains began to twitch, and the angles of blinds changed subtly.
In the pale blue house next door, Adam stood in his pyjamas, slippers and dressing gown. He pulled his hand back from opening the curtains and looked out of the kitchen window. He paused, stopping supping from his coffee just long enough to give a snort and call to his wife.
"I tell you, this place really has gone to the dogs!" he said with a faint sneer pulling at one corner of his mouth. He watched their new neighbour directing box and furniture laden removal men. They were scurrying to and from the truck like burly, sweating ants. Ellen, his wife, was dressed in similar fashion. A silken nightie, slippers, a dressing gown. She did not even look up from her orange juice and morning paper. She did reply however.
"Yes dear. You made that joke yesterday at the mall." What Ellen wisely left unsaid was 'and it was not funny then either'. She knew his friends would like it on the golf course when he no doubt parroted it to them later. But in the here and now, he just glared at her. Turning on his heel, he strode away, leaving his coffee mug slopping on the counter.
"I'm going for a shower" Adam announced, a faint peevish tone to his voice. He left his wife alone in the kitchen. Rising, she headed over to the counter, poured the dregs of his coffee into the sink, and wiped up the little spillage before it left a ring-mark on the counter. She put the mug in the dishwasher, then straightened to look out of the window. A pair of grunting men were heaving what looked like a solid oak bookcase towards their neighbours front door. It looked expensive. Eventually she heard the hiss of the shower upstairs, waiting for the optimal moment to turn on the tap and rinse her cup, before placing in too in the dishwasher. She heard her husband curse and snarl from the shower as hot water ran cold for just a second. She smiled. A petty punishment meted out for his intolerance.
Adam and Ellen had moved into the street fifteen years ago. Newly-wed childhood sweethearts. She had a bump for belly within a year. Fifteen years ago all the houses had been occupied by smiling couples. All human. All Caucasian. Two years later, the first black family moved in.
"Street lights must be out, getting a little dark around here" Adam had snorted. Ellen protested. He promised never to say anything like that again. He frequently broke that promise. Couples moved away, more moved in. Black. Oriental. Indian. He made jokes about them all. Just another white middle class male poking fun at everyone who was different. It pained her to hear the man she loved say things she hated. After a while he simply stopped listening to her protests.
But Ellen knew colours of skin would be forgotten know. Now the target of his venom was right next door. And 'it' was covered in fur. She studied her new neighbour and recognised his breed. A German Shepherd. He was tall. He wore a pair of shorts, a white t-shirt and sandals. Fur poked out from hems of his clothing and where it was bared, she could see that he had just the same sort of markings and colouration as a lay-dog her family had owned when she was a child. The memories made her smile. As far as Ellen saw it, but for the fur, the tail, the dark muzzle, he was just like any other male on the street.
She waited until the shower stopped and her husband stamped his way to the bedroom to dress. Ellen rinsed off the dishes and pans from last nights dinner then put them into the dishwasher and started it up. She would shower once it had finished and her husband was on his way to the golf course. Gathering up some laundry baskets, she headed upstairs.
As to be expected of any fourteen year old boys room, Jonathan's was a state. He had left in a hurry the previous day for a rather exclusive summer camp. The clothes he had not taken with him were strewn over the chair, wardrobe, bed and floor. He had been home less than a week from his boarding school and still the room still looked like a hurricane had ripped through it. Setting the basket on the bed, Ellen began to sort and tidy. If it had hit the floor, she put it in the basket to be washed.
"I'm going out now" Adam announced from the doorway. Ellen turned. Her husband looked ridiculous. He was dressed in a very expensive, branded, red and white striped polo shirt that made him look like a sailor in a cheap 60's movie. Cream pants that were far too tight. A peaked cap. White cleats in one hand, sweater in the other. For all his lack of feathers, he certainly was a proud suburban peacock.
"Have a good day dear" she said, knowing better than to make her husband go purple with fury by pointing out that he looked absurd, and that such a getup only really worked if you were fabulously rich and not carrying as much padding about the middle as he was. He looked down at her as she sat on their son's bed, then smiled.
"I will. You should really think about joining a gym too, or doing some aerobics." And with that, he left. No hug. No kiss. Just a comment that felt like a slap in the face, and away he went. Ellen sat in stunned silence for a moment. Then she shut her eyes tight as the heat welled in them. There really was a lot of silence in her life.
Ellen wiped her eyes angrily and drew herself up. She was not going to let a her husband's jab make her spend her Sunday sobbing in their sons room. Ellen grabbed and sorted, folded and tidied. A pornography stash was discovered when a hunt for an errant sock led her under the bed. She browsed curiously, then tossed the glossy magazines into a trash bag. Leaving behind a spotless teenage lair, Ellen strode into the master bedroom, stripped and changed the bed and emptied the hamper.
When the washer was loaded, Ellen headed outside to put the trash bags out. The sun was beating down and it made her squint. It was going to another scorching day. She paused for a moment, leaning forward to turn on the taps for the lawn sprinklers. When she straightened up and turned around, she saw her neighbour paused on his porch, box in arms and looking over at her. She smiled. He smiled.
"Good morning" he said brightly, ears perked. "I'd wave, but..." he said with a grin, hefting the box. Ellen laughed.
"Good morning!" she replied cheerfully, lifting a hand to wave before heading back indoors. She was still smiling as she moved through the kitchen, the dishwasher now finally finished in its cycle.
Ellen stood in the bathroom, and hung her robe and nightie on the back of the door. She regarded her nude self in the mirror. Sure, she had a little padding around the middle, but that just meant her hips, rump and bosom were bigger and had a softness she rather liked.
"Pot calling the kettle black. Join a gym yourself, pudgy jerk" she said aloud. She opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out her medication, 'Clomifene' it said on the packet, and popping out one of the pale yellow pills, she gulped it down with water. Ellen thought Forty-five was a little late to be trying for a second child, but Adam had been insistent. He wanted to add to his dynasty. So she had caved in and gone to see the doctor about fertility treatments. These pills were the first step. So far, so infertile.
Turning on the shower, Ellen waited a moment before stepping under the thundering stream. Closing her eyes, she turned around, the water spraying over her soft, pale skin, dipping her head forwards to let it hammer over her shoulders and back, soaking her wavy, shoulder length brown hair. She turned around and at once gasped. The water had sprayed against her chest, and as it continued to hammer and spray, she groaned. The medication was having at least some effect. It had made her bosom so very tender, and from time to time, her face and chest surged with warmth and she felt like she was going to faint. Mild hot flashes, the doctor had said. That is what came of messing about with hormones.
Stepping forwards from under the spray, Ellen reached over to grab the shaving foam and her razor. She shaved her legs, under her arms, then set about neatly trimming the little patch of thick curls between her legs and atop her mound back into the neat triangle that prevented errant curls peeking from her swimsuit at the pool. Straightening up, she rinsed her razor off under the shower. Lathering up her hair and body, she scrubbed herself lazily. It perhaps stood to reason that the fastidious housewife would enjoy tending to her own cleanliness and neatness. Rinsing the shampoo, then the conditioner from her hair and body, she sputtered and wiped her face clean.
Leaning from the shower, Ellen checked the door was locked before stepping back to indulge in one of her guilty pleasures. Pushing her back to the tiles, she shuffled her legs wider apart on the porcelain. Detaching the shower head from its clip, she carefully brought it down between her legs, bit her lip and leaned her head back.
The spray surged and battered at her mound, her folds peeking soon enough. Frustration from another night of less than stellar sex with Adam was soon washed away by both the pounding jets of water, and the sensation of them hitting her mound, her little folds and that nub at their peak. Ellen's free hand rose, lifting, squeezing the soft, warm and heavy flesh of a breast, before pinching and tugging gently at the thick teat. She imagined it was not her own hand, but that of a lover. One that worshipped her form with gentle touches and teasing caresses. A lover who murmured his desire for her, kissed her cheek, her neck. As Ellen sank into fantasy, her hand lowered, fingertips joining the spray of the shower. They strummed over her tingling flesh, rubbing and caressing, not stopping until her back arched and she gave a hoarse little cry of delight.
Her face glowing, Ellen twitched and flinched, smiling in drunken delight for a moment before she turned off the shower with trembling fingers, returned the head to the clip, and stepped out to towel herself dry.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, Ellen dried her hair and dressed quickly. White cotton underwear, comfortable and practical at the same time. A yellow sun dress. Sandals for her feet and a wide straw hat. She headed downstairs to set the washer to work on the backlog of laundry and to head to the garage to get her gardening things. An apron, thick gloves, shears, a bucket and a pad to kneel on and save her knees and dress from the grass and dirt.
Ellen lay the pad on the edge of the lawn and knelt on it, starting to prune and weed the flower bed. She hummed as she worked, her pale arms flexing and working up a gentle sweat as she tidied up her roses and tulips. An hour ticked by as she worked under the blazing sun, pausing only to head back indoors to smear sun lotion on her neck, shoulders and arms. She had learned long ago that her pale skin did not tan. It burned.
Closing her fingers around the stem of a particularly stubborn weed, she tugged. It resisted. She tugged again, a trickle of sweat rolling over her cheek, under her chin, and down the cleft of her bosom. She heaved again and the roots of the wretched thing finally tore from the soil. Shaking the dirt from the roots and brushing it with gloved fingers, she tossed the offending plant into the bucket with its uprooted brethren.
"Wow." The voice made her stiffen and she looked over her shoulder to see furred arms folded and resting on the garden fence. A smile was on the German Shepherd's muzzle as his eyes roved the neat backyard. "Your yard is impeccable!" he laughed. "What are your rates? I think my place had a lawn like yours, but a jungle seems to have swallowed it long ago!" Ellen laughed. With a perk of his ears, so did her neighbour. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you properly." The dog chuckled. When he did, his voice had a guttural little growl to it. He leaned forwards and thrust his paw towards her. "Chad Miller" he said.
"Ellen Harris" she replied, slipping her hand to his. His fur was surprisingly soft. Just like Duke, her fathers dog.
"Good to meet you, Ellen" he said. "When they've unpacked my kitchen, you are welcome to pop over for a drink."
"I'd like that!" she said and the two shared another grin. "And you can borrow our weed-whacker any time you feel the need to tame that jungle of yours."
"Aw, thanks. Tell you what, forget waiting, you want to come round now? Front door's open, just dodge the movers and meet me out back? Talk strategy on how I can best reclaim my turf?" Ellen laughed again. She was finding it very easy to laugh in his company. She liked that. She found she wanted to make a good impression on the cheerful fellow.
"Sure, I'll be right over."
The movers were working like ants, toiling inside with sealed cardboard boxes. Each had a room name scrawled on the top. The furniture was already in, not properly set into place yet, but at least in the right rooms. All of it was old. Not antique perhaps, but well made and sturdy.
"They certainly are making short work of it all" she laughed, joining her new neighbour out on his paved patio.
"Tell me about it. I started out trying to tell them where to put things, but I was just getting in their way. I came out here to hide. Then I saw you and got lawn envy." Ellen giggled at how his ears pinned back and the tall male looked sheepish, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I'll definitely be tipping them all before they go, and writing a review and calling their bosses. They've been awesome from start to finish."
"They have to be better than ours were. When we first moved here, I think they dropped every box and bumped and scraped every bit of furniture."
"Oh yeah? When was that?" Ellen grinned awkwardly, suddenly feeling very old.
"Fifteen years ago. Before we had Johnny."
"You have a son?"
"Indeed we do. Off at summer camp." Ellen looked about his garden. He had not been lying about it being a jungle. Months of being left untended during the late spring and early summer had left the grass nearly waist high, and many of the weeds higher still. "So, got any gardening tools?"
"Not yet, I moved from an apartment. Never needed any."
"Ahh, well, the offer still stands, you can use ours."
"Neat. Thanks Mrs Harris" Ellen pulled a pained face.
"Oh don't, I feel old enough already, call me Ellen."
"You aren't old, Ellen" he laughed.
"You're what, twenty-eight?" she said wryly
"Twenty-six"
"Damn. I'm not sure I can talk to you without your legal guardian being present. What do you do to get a place like this at twenty-six?"
"Lawyer. Don't look at me like that, mainly business law, contracts and things. Paperwork for mergers. That kinda thing. Basically a junior partner right now. I mainly get the coffee at the office and do the photocopying."
"Great, can you try and talk some sense into our son, he still thinks that a career as a digital athlete is his destiny." Chad grinned, then snapped his fingers.
"Sounds like I should get him to talk some sense into me! That sounds like fun!"
"Oh, god I knew it. You're both too young to know what fun really is!" There was a long pause, one in which Chad fixed her with a toothy grin.
"You think so? Maybe I should show you my idea of fun?" Ellen abruptly felt her cheeks surge with warmth. Those deep brown eyes were suddenly too much to bear and she looked away. The pause lingered all the more, the sound of organised chaos behind the dog seeming so far away, as did her own voice which came as a surprise, even to her.
"Um. Look" she began. "I need to head home and get supper on." Another long, long pause. "But, I take it you have tomorrow off to unpack?" Chad nodded. His smile changed, no longer all teeth. A bright, cheerful expression once again.
"Indeed!"
"I'll come over tomorrow morning with the weed-whacker and mower. We can chop this lot back and cut the grass, and I'll tidy up the weeds a bit."
"Sounds great!" Chad said with his tail lashing back and forth. "I'll order lunch in or something. Pay you back with Chinese food, or pizza. Whatever." They smiled at each other, and Ellen said her goodbyes and made her way home.
Later on, Ellen sat opposite her husband at dinner, chewing at her roast beef. Adam had been mostly silent after returning from his day at the course. He had not played well. He chewed and ate. Sipped wine and cut up his food fastidiously. He barely said anything.
"I met the new neighbour today. Chad Miller."
"Oh yeah, he sniff your butt, or was he too busy licking his balls?" Ellen shut her eyes and counted to ten, taking a sip of wine afterwards. She refused to be drawn into an argument.
"He's a lawyer."
"Uh huh" her husband. Then he suddenly brightened and put down his knife and fork. "What can a dog get on it's SATs?" Adam said, grinning at his wife.
"I'm not sure..." Ellen began.
"Slobber!" he finished, clapping his hands and obviously feeling hilarious. Ellen did not laugh. Neither did she smile. She stood up and the argument began. It was long. It was loud. In the end, Adam did what he always did when confronted. He stormed off to the den and slammed the door. An accountant's petulance. She cleared away the dishes, poured the half finished wine glasses back into the bottle and went upstairs to make up the bed in the spare room. She was not sleeping next to Adam. Not tonight. Not after that.