I was losing sun to the West, so I decided to try my luck with my camera again and I walked outside and around to the front of the house. I looked past the lawn and boulevard, toward the beach and water and couldn’t resist, so I made the short walk across the street. When I got to the sand, I removed my shoes and placed my toes in the sand. I squatted and ran my hand through the sand, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy me. I wanted to walk in the water and feel the wet sand between my toes, so I rolled the legs of my jeans to my knees and waded.
I was about to wade deeper when my intuition spoke to me and I felt the heavy stare of someone’s eyes. I jerked my head up and looked around, but no one on the beach showed any particular interest in me and I didn’t sense danger. I suspected plain curiosity, so I turned toward the house I now inhabited. I lifted my camera toward the house and zoomed in closely to the one watching me and found Chansey standing inside the dormer of Anna’s studio, watching me. She moved away from the window after I noticed her, but not before I snapped a close shot of her at the window. It seemed we did have one thing in common. We both enjoyed a little spying, but the difference was she got caught, and I didn’t.
Ten minutes later, she left in her car and as she passed by me on the beach, she looked my way and made a gesture in my direction. I suppose it was a good-bye wave or maybe a “I know you caught me spying on you” gesture. Either way, both prospects made me smile.
The guilt I experienced from spying on Chansey dissipated the moment I realized she was returning the favor and she leveled the playing field without realizing it. Sort of. I had spying advantages she didn’t know about and I found myself looking forward to her return home tonight. Tag, I was it. I was due some spy time and I was ready to collect.
When she returned later that night, the minutes ticked by after she turned off the engine of her car and I recognized something was off. I opened my door and stepped outside, but she remained inside her car and I wondered if she had fallen asleep. The car door opened one millisecond before I was ready to investigate and I streaked back inside and silently shut the door before she saw me.
I listened to her as she gracefully repeated the same routine as the previous night, with one exception; once she completed her bedroom rituals, she crawled into bed and began to cry. She cried for hours before her breathing became deep and rhythmic, indicating she had drifted off to sleep.
Chansey was upset and it caused me a second night of disharmony with myself, but I guess I asked for it. As I had the previous night, I waited for sleep to release me from the disturbance in my mind. My second night of discord was enough to end my curiosity. No more spying. This game had lost it’s fun factor and I didn’t want to play anymore.
Chapter 7
Chansey’s obvious strife prevented me from sleeping well and I felt it the following morning, but my lack of rest wasn’t enough to keep me inside today. I went outside to enjoy some sunlight while I decided on today’s activity, and as always, my camera was in my hand.
Grady was working in the flower garden behind the house and I thought Anna might enjoy some candid shots of him as he worked. I watched Grady work in the dirt and wondered if I would enjoy putting my hands in a little bit of turned earth. I put my camera away and walked over to get to know my landlord a little better. “Good morning, Mr. Emerson. Would you like some help?”
He lifted his head, surprised by offer, and happily answered, “Sure. I’d love the help of two extra hands.”
I knelt down to join him and asked, “What would you like me to do?”
“I’m just pulling weeds. Our grandson is getting married on the beach in a few weeks and the reception is going to be here in the garden, so I’m trying to keep the landscaping in tip top shape.”
Pulling weeds was easy enough and no real experience was required. I began to pull weeds with Grady and we were both quiet, uncertain how to begin a conversation. My conversations with humans were limited and I didn’t really know much about gardening.
He offered the introductory line. “Chansey was supposed to help me with this, but I think she is sleeping late this morning.”
Now it was my turn, so here went nothing. “She works late hours, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah. I wish she didn’t. She shouldn’t be driving by herself that late at night because it’s not safe.” He hesitated and continued, “Her parents wouldn’t have allowed it if they were still here.”
“Did they pass away?” I asked.
“Yeah, her parents and sister were killed in a car accident eleven years ago and she was the only survivor.”
I said the only thing I could think of at the moment. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Chansey has been a trooper. We’re all grateful she has done so well because I don’t think we could have endured it if she had withdrawn from us.”
I didn’t know much about her, so again, I said the only thing that seemed appropriate. “She seems like she is a rather upbeat kind of person, although I’ve only met her briefly.”
He was impressed with my conclusion. “She certainly has an upbeat personality.”
I heard several rings of a cell phone inside the house, followed by Chansey answering, “Hello.”
She paused a moment to listen to the caller before she said, “The restraining order says that you are not supposed to contact me in any form, or come near me. You can expect a visit from the police because I have already notified the authorities about last night.” As she spoke, her voice began to shake, a sure sign of her fear.
Someone was scaring her and doing a fine job of it. It angered me to know someone was causing her to cry herself to sleep and I wanted to know more, but it wasn’t my place to get involved in human matters.
Fifteen minutes later, she was in the kitchen talking to Anna and I wondered if her grandparents knew about the harassment of the caller. She didn’t mention the phone call and I guessed she was keeping it to herself. She told Anna she would be joining her grandfather in the garden after she finished her coffee and that was my cue to find a way out of the help I had offered to Grady.
I wasn’t ready to see her because the memory of our interaction was still fresh on my mind and I still felt the burn of embarrassment on my cheeks. I was afraid of an encore performance and I didn’t want Grady to see me act like a fool around her.
I didn’t have long to vacate the premises, and luckily for me, Grady introduced the perfect idea. “I need to replace the annuals in this section. I was thinking of using pink and purple petunias.”
“Why don’t you let me run down to the garden supply store and get those for you? It will save you the trip and I don’t mind getting out and learning a little bit about where things are located,” I said. I heard the door open, so I didn’t wait for his response before I jumped to my feet and ran like a scalded dog for my apartment door. “I’ll go get my keys.”
Despite how far I had come, I still harbored issues with losing control and I felt completely out of control around Chansey. I found my keys and headed for my truck, hoping to dodge her, and I was almost successful when I heard Grady shout, “Hey, Curry, Chansey is going to ride with you. She’ll show you the way and help you pick out what we need.”
I wanted to act like I didn’t hear him. If I could have gotten away with it, I would have tried, but it would have been too obvious, ultimately making me look strange and rude and I didn’t need the unwanted attention.
I turned around and saw her leaning around the back screen door of the kitchen entrance saying, “I need to run in for just a second and I’ll meet you at your truck.”
I sat in my truck and rolled both windows down while I waited for her because it was a really bad idea to get cooped up in this small cab with her aroma. I racked my brain, trying to think of topics for conversation, and did a great job of drawing a blank. My nervousness escalated to a full blown panic when I saw her walking toward me in my truck.
She sat next to me in the cab and I willed the truck to not star
t, but it defied me and started without hesitation. “I was thinking we could go to McFerrin’s Nursery. They’re local and I prefer to buy from a mom and pop kind of business because their stuff always looks better.”
Her heart rate was normal and her voice was smooth and carefree as she spoke to me, showing no signs of anxiousness. I tried not to consider how differently she would react if she knew what kind of creature sat next to her in this small truck cab, within arm’s reach.
I pulled to the end of the drive and she directed me to take a left. I did as I was instructed and leaned toward the incoming breeze through the window, relieved by the fresh air, although I had not yet been invaded by her aroma.
“So, where are you from?” she asked, interrupting my concentration.
I hoped I could manage to answer that one without a blunder. “I’m not really from anywhere. I was born here, but I left many years ago and I’ve never stayed any one place long enough to call it home.” My answer was vague, but true.
“I think that would be cool, living in different places. I was born in Hawaii, which would be really cool if I could remember it, but other than that, the only places I have ever been is somewhere between here and nowhere. My shot glass collection is rather small,” she laughed.
“Living abroad is not as glamourous as it might sound, I’ve never stayed anywhere long enough to make connections with people or get to know anyone.”
“Take the next left. I guess that would explain why you don’t have too much to say. I thought you just didn’t like me,” she laughed.
So, she noticed I was a social deviant. I never fooled myself into thinking she didn’t, so I made no reply and looked straight ahead, continuing to drive.
The wind from my open window blew stray hairs from Chansey’s ponytail and she worked furiously to tuck the loose strands behind her ears. I expected a complaint, but instead, she was quiet and stared out the window until she voiced the final directions to our destination.
We entered the nursery and she walked to the opposite side of the store. She was deliberately avoiding me and each time I crossed an aisle to get closer to her, she walked away from me. Left with no choice, I asked the salesperson for help. “I need pink and purple petunias. Can you help me?”
“Oh, certainly. We just got some in this morning,” she said and I allowed her to choose the better looking ones for me. After buying the flowers, I loaded them in the back of the truck while Chansey spoke with a young man at the green house and I guessed she wouldn’t let me get close to her because she didn’t want her friend to see me with her.
I couldn’t avoid overhearing her laughter as she spoke with him, and although that initially drew my attention, the smile she shared with him and the ease with which they conversed is what I envied. He flirtatiously reached and touched her arm as she laughed and I wondered if her touch effected him the way it did me.
I heard him ask, “Who’s your boyfriend? He doesn’t seem very happy about you talking to me.”
Without thinking, his comment drew my eyes in their direction and I shot daggers in his direction as Chansey laughed and touched his arm saying, “He is so not my boyfriend. I just met him. He’s renting the basement apartment at my grandparent’s house.”
He took notice of the look I gave him and said, “I’m not so sure he knows he’s not your boyfriend. He can’t stop looking over here and he looks mad.”
Okay. Now I was getting mad. I finished loading the pallets and got into the truck, shutting the door harder than I intended, confirming my anger. Perfect. Now I looked jealous.
Chansey turned and let me know she took notice of my tantrum and I quickly turned my head away from her before I provided her with further evidence of my guilt. When she finished her conversation, she returned to the truck and we began our journey back to the house, in silence. The air between us was thick and the drive seemed much longer on the way back to the Emerson’s house. The miles seem to grow while the awkwardness multiplied and my lack of confidence prevented me from uttering a word to her.
I was relieved when I pulled into the drive and parked, but I felt like I needed to say something to her before she got out of the truck. I started to thank her for going with me and showing me the way, but I didn’t get a chance before she shot out of the truck and slammed the door before I killed the engine.
She walked to the truck bed and attempted to open the tailgate, but failed as she angrily jerked. She stepped aside and allowed me to lower it before she spun to face me. She shifted her weight to one leg, cocked her head to the side and placed a hand on her hip. I recognized the stance as a command for my attention and realized she had a bone to pick with me. I faced my antagonist, saying nothing. I looked into the beautiful hazel eyes of the small woman standing before me and I was scared.
“Do you have nothing to say to me, or are you allergic to polite conversation?” When I didn’t reply, she continued, “Is there a particular reason you don’t like me?”
I was so surprised by her question, I didn’t know how to respond and while I fumbled to think of a response, she yanked a pallet from my truck bed and said, “Forget I asked.”
Way to go, Brennan! That was well played. How was I going to fix this? Should I stop her and try to attempt an explanation? There was no explaining me, so I took the coward’s route and let her go.
She dumped her pallet in the garden before storming inside the house while Grady watched it all play out from where he sat resting in the backyard drinking a tall glass of lemonade. “I recognize that look all too well. What did you say, or often the case with a man and woman, not say that got her feathers ruffled?” he asked, as he chuckled.
I wanted to tell Grady what happened because I wanted to hear a human’s analysis of what happened and I needed a man’s opinion. “Frankly, sir, I’m a little confused about what did happen.”
“Welcome to a man’s world, son.” At that moment, I didn’t feel so welcome and the irony of Grady welcoming me to a man’s world should have brought a smile to my face, but I didn’t because I worried about how I had upset his granddaughter.
Grady drank his lemonade and I sat next to him on the bench while I replayed the conversation in the truck for Grady, then added, “Next thing I know, she is giving me the silent treatment. When we got here, she asked me why I didn’t I like her and I was so surprised by her confrontation, I didn’t know what to say, then she stomped off.”
“Son, it isn’t always what you say. Like I said, it’s more often what you don’t say. She thinks that you don’t like her because you didn’t correct her assumption. She was prompting you to deny it and tell her you liked her, and when you didn’t, she took that as confirmation of her suspicion.”
It was clear as a bell once Grady explained it and I sounded like a scolded child when I asked, “Well, how exactly am I supposed to fix that?”
I watched Grady shaking his head back and forth. “A woman can hold a grudge for a long time. The longer it simmers, the longer the grudge lasts and I advise you to get this straightened out in a quick like fashion.”
The man didn’t understand I had no idea how to talk to women. “I don’t know how to begin, what do I say?”
Grady stopped what he was doing to look at me. “Boy, you act like you don’t know how to talk to a female.”
“I guess I don’t.” It was the truth. When I was human, escorts accompanied young, unmarried ladies and there were no private conversations because those were left for after the marriage.
Curry looked around, then lowered his voice to ask, “Son, are you a homosexual?”
“No, sir!” I said, a little too loudly, then lowered my voice and added, “I’m just not incredibly experienced with the opposite sex, but not for that reason.”
“Well, alright then. This is what you should do. She’ll be getting ready for work soon, so try to catch her before she leaves and tell her it was all a misunderstanding. Apologize, but keep it simple. Let her know it was all of your fault an
d she is not to blame. Again, I strongly suggest you tell her it was all your fault.”
“Got it. Thanks, Mr. Emerson.” That sounded like something I could handle, so I retreated to my room to rehearse. I heard her getting ready for work in her bedroom above me and knew I didn’t have long. When I heard her leave her room, I went outside to wait for her.
I stood next to her white Jeep, propped against the driver’s side as she walked toward me. She stopped and huffed, not hiding her irritation, when she saw me and I realized I liked it because it left little need for guessing.
For once, I started the conversation. “May I have a minute of your time?”
“I don’t have a minute because I’m running late,” she answered cooly.
“It will only take a minute,” I pleaded.
She placed her hands back on her hips. “So, you’re asking me to be late for work?”
I registered how selfish I sounded and knew I had disengaged from the script Grady had given me, so I decided to abandon this attempt gone wrong. “May I talk to you when you return home?”
“I won’t be back until late,” she inhibited.
“I guess it’s a good thing I stay up late then, so I’ll be waiting,” I insisted, not giving her a choice.
“Suit yourself,” she replied indifferently and I moved aside to open the door of her Jeep for her. I stood in the driveway as she drove away and I watched as curiosity got the better of her and she looked back at me in her rearview mirror. She believed she left with the upper hand, as did I, until I saw the reflection of her smile. She thought her smile was a secret between she and herself, but she was wrong and it melted any reservations I had about talking to her.
Chapter 8
Chansey would have me believe she was tough as nails, but the girl that strummed a guitar while she sang lyrics about falling in love forever, was all sugar and spice beneath the surface, so I almost felt bad about having an advantage over her. Almost.