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Authors: Janna Dellwood

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BOOK: Love Thy Neighbor
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She half-smiled. “You have fingers too, y'know. Unless they're
broken and can't dial,” she joked.


Things just ended so badly. I
didn't want to upset you any worse. I know I was a jackass when we
were together back then, and I apologize. I was an idiot.”


What are you doing these
days, then? Girlfriend?”

He paused. “No, not for a few months. Been working a lot at
Cabella's. Full time. Night shifts. Lots of boxing and shipping.
Makes me feel like a robot sometimes.” His laugh was not of the
same cute caliber as Baron's, not anywhere close, but hearing it made
her feel good.


What about you? You working
anywhere now?”

Now she paused. “No. Haven't had the guts to face the world.
You knew how I was. My problems seemed to have gotten worse over
time.”


That's a shame. I really
thought you would have made something of yourself after school. All
those drawings you did. Needless to say, you are the best artist I
know.”

She blushed. She didn't want to tell him she'd quit taking art
classes; then she'd just be trying to add company to her misery.


You still draw and paint?”

Janna didn't respond. An eerie silence fell over the line.


Listen, Ben, the reason I
called is because I miss you. I miss us being together. I've had a
while to process things, and now that we're older, more mature, I
think things could be a lot better than what they were.” Her
half-smile turned into a slight frown.

She could sense him smiling.


They really could be. I'm a
very different person now, Janna. I don't do half the things I used
to. Don't drink. Don't use. Don't fight. All I do anymore is work and
just hang out with friends.” There was a slight wobble in his
voice as he said these things, as if the line were being bugged by
the police.

Janna wanted him here, with her, in her empty house. “Can you
come over?”


What, now? I have to do some
things early in the morning, but I guess I can stop by for about an
hour or two. Still live at the same place?”


Yep. Just walk in. I'll be
here.”


Okay. Gimme ten minutes.”

Then came the single, solid word of supreme desperation: “Hurry.”

She hung up the phone and closed her eyes, the uncertainty hanging so
heavily on her face it made her look manly. Had he
really
changed for the better? Had he
really
matured?
Was what I
just did a good idea?

Whether he had or not, she would have some company soon. Whether she
enjoyed the company was another story. But company was company—it
beat being alone.

But the person she really wanted to come over wasn't Ben.

It was Baron.

***

Those ten minutes came and went. In that time there was no
vrooming
sound of a car pulling up outside; no glimmer of headlights cutting
in through the picture window. Janna checked her watch. Five to
eleven.

Ten more minutes came and went. In that time there was no
creak
of the front door opening and no
thud!
of the front door
closing. Nothing to indicate his arrival. Janna checked her watch
again and sighed. Five after eleven.
What's taking him? Should I
call?

A damned hour and ten minutes came and went, all too slowly.

Still, no Ben.

He ain't coming.

Feeling sorry for herself—but too tired to really care
anymore—she started to doze off on the living room couch while
watching The Golden Girls. Her favorite episode was on: Blanche's
Little Girl—the one where Rebecca, Blanche's daughter, a former
model, becomes engaged to a verbally abusive man who belittles her
now that she's gained a lot of weight. Janna got through fifteen
minutes of the program before her eyelids became as heavy as ball
bearings.

Darkness approached.

Comfort came.

The realities of tragic life stopped its assault on her.

Then:


Honey, I'm hoooooome!”

Ben's voice.

Ben's
slurred
voice. Too loud, too obnoxious.

She opened her eyes, lifted her head, and looked.
Oh boy.

Ben came stumbling in through the front door like an intoxicated bull
with no concern for himself or his surroundings. He broke the screen
door during his entry. He put a dent in the wall with the knob of the
larger door when he flung it inward. Just accidents, according to the
inebriated. Stupidity, according to the sober.


Hey, Janna. How
you
doin'?”

She wished she had never called him, never invited him, and never
entertained the thought of him barging back into her life. “I
thought you said you quit drinking? You're drunk.”

He stood in the doorway, a terse little man in dark clothes, trying
to process her question. His eyes were noticeably bloodshot, even
from six feet away.


Drunk? Tshh! I'm ain't drunk.
Where you get a crazy idea like that?” He belched loudly and
deeply. She could smell the pungent odor of alcohol as it wafted her
way. Not beer; hard liquor.

The buffoon laughed, amused by his monstrous burp. She wasn't amused,
not at all.


I think you better leave,
Ben.”


What? Leave? I just got here,
man. You're the one who called me to come over. I did you a favor.”

For as hammered as he was, he had a valid point. This was her
monster, the creation she'd foolishly called upon.

Now she had to find a way to get rid of him. Of it.


Seriously, I think you'd
better go.”


Go where? Upstairs?” He
stumbled over to her and collapsed next to her on the couch. Put an
arm around her. Breathed his repulsive bourbon breath on her. Then he
started groping her and kissing her.

Despite how much she wanted a man, she didn't want this.

She wriggled away, stood up, disgusted. “You lied to me! You
said you were different. This is bullshit.”

His head wobbled. His eyes looked far from coherent. “What? I
haven't drunk anything in three years, baby. What's a couple of
Millers? I'm cool.”


No, you're not cool. You
pulled this shit nine years ago. You said you'd change, promised me
you'd change, and you kept screwing up. The endless story, Ben. You
never got on the wagon—you just said that to please me. To keep
me.”


Hey, I didn't call you and
beg you to get back with me, did I? Who said, 'Can you come over'?
Who said, 'Just walk in'? Who said, 'Hurry'? Tell me who spoken those
words, 'cause it sure as hell wasn't me.”

She pouted, pursed her lips.
He's right.


Okay, I made a mistake.”

He nodded exaggeratedly. “Exactly! Mistake. You complain about
my drinking, as if you never made a mistake. You're not perfect,
woman.”


Neither of us are perfect.
But I don't want to be with a drunk Ben!”

He went to look at her, missed, and searched again. Found. Rage, fed
by alcohol, sparked his gears into motion. The man stood up and
crowded her, backed her into a corner.


Not fun to be with? You
perfect sober assholes are the ones not fun to be with. You look down
on everything, everyone. Have you dranken yet in those nine years?
Have you? How do you treat wuss the way you do without backing up
your.... your...” He couldn't find the word. Instead, he
smacked her, vocalizing his words by physical action. Easier this
way.

***

One story higher, in the brownstone across the street, Baron lay in
the darkness of his cool, comfortable bed, his head propped up on a
thick, fluffy pillow, reading the statuses of his Facebook on his
Ipad. It pained him to read about Rachel, his ex. They'd been broken
up for two months, and she'd bounced back from the breakup like
nothing had happened. Some people, he supposed, could move on faster
than others. He didn't think he could, not like that. Not that fast.
To make matters worse, the guy she'd moved in with was George
Wattson, his childhood friend. So, not only did he lose Rachel; he'd
lost his best pal. Now that those two were together, they'd left him
behind. All he really was, was a third wheel.

Tears stung his eyes when he read the next post: “Rachel and
George: News! News! We're engaged! Yes, my baby George popped the
question. We're getting married in spring! Can't wait!”

Baron had proposed to her less than three months ago. Her response:
I
need more time. I'm not ready for that kind of commitment yet.

He and Rachel had been together for three years, mind you, not one
month, like George and Rachel.

Baron wanted to be happy for them, but what he really felt was
resentment and bitterness. They had all but forgotten him.

He turned off his Ipad, tossed it aside, and wiped the tears away,
tired but too depressed to sleep.

He couldn't have fallen asleep anyway, not with the bickering voices.
A couple. Fighting.

He opened his eyes. Listened.


What do you have to say now,
bitch?”


More than you. You're so
drunk, you can barely talk!”

Silence...


Just leeeeeave!”


Nooooo! Not until I'm good
and ready.”


I hate you, Ben. I wish I'd
never met you.”


Oh, well that's dandy. The
feeling's mutual, woman.”


Do I have a sign on me that
says that? 'Cause I'm not your woman. I'd have to have rocks in my
head to get back with you!”


Uh, hello? This is what
you
wanted. You forget? I'll ask you
again—the tenth time! Who called who, Miss lonely and
desperate?”

She cried. Baron recognized her voice just then. His neighbor's. The
one who'd asked him over for a non-alcoholic drink.

Her distressing cries brought more tears to his eyes, put more pain
into his well of agony. There was nothing he hated more than a man
who mistreated women—

But if she'd asked
him
out, then who was arguing with
her
now?

Her husband?

Mistress?

Boyfriend?

Some guy she'd picked up at a bar?

The girl doesn't drink, genius!

Unless she picked him up elsewhere.

Whoever he was, it didn't seem to add up in Baron's mind.

He tried to block out the fight and get some rest. He grew comfy
within a matter of moments, when....

The loud
SMACK!
took that coziness away. The woman cried much
louder now. And he, whoever the asshole was, shouted at higher
decibels.

Fury engulfed Baron, woke him up. He was not a confrontational
person—hell, he'd never been in a fight in his whole life.
Bullies had had their way with him in school, his boss had fired him
for not being assertive enough when he'd worked for AIG, and, he
wondered, maybe that was the reason Rachel had left him, too. If that
was the case, maybe he needed to swallow his doubts, his inhibitions,
and act instead of standing still.

The world would go on either way.

***

Janna lay bawling on the floor in her living room, her face red,
bloody and bruised. Ben stood over her, giving it to her good. He
hadn't hit a woman in three years—his last girlfriend; found
that he missed it.


Now you see what us guys have
to go through! What I'm doing to you is easy compared to what you
women do to us. You whores beat us up from the inside. Hey... ever
taste the rawhide of a belt?”

He quickly undid his belt. Yanked it from its many loops.


Please, Ben, you can stay.
I'm sorry. Okay?”


No, no. You're not getting
out of this that easy. You know why? 'Cause you'll get what you want.
Then what? You'll attack ME again!”

Ben brought back the belt, causing her to turn away and hold up her
arms. The pain would ensue any second.

Any second.

Any second...

?

Baron
clutched hold of the buckle part of the belt, preventing
the alcoholic monster from whipping the innocent victim. “My
mother told me to never hit a woman
or
a man. But you know
what? I think she'd change her mind under the circumstances.”

Pow!

Baron popped Ben in the face with a quick jab. It didn't have the
effect he was hoping for. He thought the man would tumble over the
couch like they did in the movies, unconscious and bloody.

A line of blood did run from one nostril, but the blow only made Ben
angry.

Ben cocked his arm back and swung with full power, aiming for this
man's head. His punch got lost—or that's what he thought—and
the next thing he knew, he got tackled and went to the floor, his
head bouncing off the hard metal vent under the window. Everything in
sight went blurry, came back, and then faded to darkness. Ben was
out.

Baron looked down at this pitiful man lying between his legs,
bleeding, snoring, drooling on himself. He'd never hit anybody
before. He'd been raised to be a pacifist. The thought of attacking
someone, human or otherwise, just never seemed right. But now, it
felt right. It felt good. He'd stood up in somebody's behalf. For a
moment he felt like a hero.


You okay?” Baron asked
Janna. She continued crying, balled up in the corner with her arms
wrapped around her legs.


Janna?” He raised his
voice. It soothed her. It brought her out of her crying spell. She
looked up at him without expression. He went to her and went to hug
her.

BOOK: Love Thy Neighbor
6.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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