Page 43 of The Neighbor
Tim drives up the road and stops beside me. Rolling down his window, he says with a grin, “Big night tonight?”
I shrug as one of the big reasons why I hated growing up in suburbia comes rushing back to me. “Nothing much. Just going to Caroline’s to hang out for a little while.”
His smile grows bigger, and he winks at me. “Have a good time! I remember what it was like being a single guy. Enjoy yourself! There are those of us living vicariously through guys like you.”
He doesn’t bother to wait for my response, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes as he pulls around me into his driveway. God, I never want to be as pathetic as he is. To live vicariously through someone else just seems so sad. Is married life with all those kids that boring that he envies me?
Well, I certainly don’t envy him his life. I may not dislike his wife, but he’s got too many ill-behaved kids and all I foresee in his future is the same thing he does every day. Wake up. Kiss the wife goodbye at the front door as the kids scream in the kitchen and throw their breakfast around. Go to work. Slave away as the only person bringing money into the house becausehe didn’t stop at one or two rugrats. Come home exhausted. Listen to the sounds of screaming kids until they fall asleep. Pretend to master some idea of patience when in reality it’s just complacency. Go to sleep and wake up the next day to do it all over again.
And again and again.
That’s no life I’d ever want to endure. I’d rather be dead than have to live Tim’s life.
I guess it could be worse. I could have to live Jared’s life, although something tells me Tim and Harold would have taken the life of a man with a wife and two girlfriends until the other day. Now they get to look down their noses at his choices, but I bet they would have jumped at the chance to step out on their wives if anyone offered that.
Such is the existence of the married man in the suburbs.
I reach Caroline’s house at seven o’clock exactly and see her walk out onto the porch, smiling at me. Dressed in a light blue dress, she looks beautiful. I wave to her as something different about how she seems tonight dawns on me.
Maybe she thinks this is a date like Tim does.
“You’re right on time! Come on in. Dinner is almost ready.”
When I finish climbing the stairs up to her porch, I hand her an envelope much like the one she left in my mailbox inviting me here tonight. “Happy housewarming. Is that what people say? I’m not sure. This is my first housewarming. You got the vase?”
She takes it and nods, chuckling. “Sounds about right. Thank you, and thank you so much for the vase. It’s beautiful. You didn’t have to get me anything, but I appreciate it.”
As I follow her inside, I say, “I was hoping you’d like it. It’s something like what my mother had in our hallway when I was growing up. She used to say it was the final touch that brought the house together.”
Caroline sets the envelope on her kitchen counter and proceeds to point to my gift sitting a few feet away. “It’s lovely. Thank you again. Please make yourself comfortable. I have wine and other kinds of alcohol, if you like. Feel free to make yourself a drink.”
I watch her carefully lift the vase out of its box as I sit down at the kitchen table. A pale wood table, it’s round, something I haven’t seen much in my lifetime. “Thanks. I think I’ll wait until you’re finished.”
With a big smile, she looks over at me once the vase is entirely out of the gift box. “This is really nice. Thank you. By the size of the box, I thought you might have gotten me one of those mailboxes you put out on a post at the end of your sidewalk. Where did you say your mother placed her vase?”
“In the entrance hallway. I was thinking back to when I was a boy and every time she came into the house, she threw her keys down on that table, chipping the vase. I had to throw it in the garbage when she passed away because she had damaged it so much over the years.”
Caroline nods as I tell my little story about the past and sets the vase down on the table in front of her as she sits down. “I think that can be said for a lot of things we remember from childhood. The years only add to the damage.”
Even as I smile like I agree, I don’t know what she specifically means. I suspect there’s a tale of unhappiness attached to that statement, though.
Although I’m here to enjoy myself tonight like Tim suggested, I’m looking forward to learning more about Park Circle’s newest resident. I want to get to the core of who she is in the next few hours. Hopefully, a little wine and a little food will loosen her tongue, and by night’s end, I’ll have all the details I need to understand Caroline Townsend.
Then I’ll know if I’m going to kill her tonight or not.
17
As she makessmall talk about the heat, I can’t help but notice how cool it is in her house. I wonder why she didn’t invite me in those other times and forced us to sit out on the porch when we could have been enjoying air-conditioned comfort.
I suspect she’s hiding something, but as I look around her place, I see nothing worth concealing. Relatively cheap artwork hangs on the beige walls, and from what I can tell, Caroline likes to keep her home uncluttered, something I can appreciate. No mail sits on any tables to give me more clues about who she is. Everything looks perfectly dusted and clean, and I have a strong suspicion if she’s not a neat freak she’s definitely someone who likes to have her home tidy at all times.
Caroline sets a red and white platter that looks like it belonged at Kimmy’s Fourth of July party on the table and smiles. “It’s been so hot lately that I haven’t wanted to cook at all during this heat wave, but since I invited you tonight, I thought I needed to do something more than set out a bag of chips or pretzels.”
Five large tomatoes filled with chicken salad sit in the middle of the tray, and I have to admit they look delicious. “I’mstarving, but I know what you mean about the heat. Even though it’s air conditioned inside my house, it’s like the scorching temperatures sneak in, and I don’t want to cook at all either. These look great.”
My compliment pleases her, and as she sits down, she says, “Thanks. I had this at an adorable little restaurant when I went to Jamestown a few years ago, and it’s one of my favorite meals for when it’s hot out. I hope you enjoy it.”
Interesting. I doubt she traveled to Jamestown on her own, so as the two of us reach for a tomato, I ask, “Are you a history buff?”