Note to the reader: this is a seven-part story that will contain erotic scenes. However, this first chapter does not have any explicit scenes.
ONE
In the middle of June, I noticed that I had been staying in every Friday night for the past six months. On Saturdays and Sundays, without a doubt, I went out. But on Friday nights, I wanted to be aware of what it's really like to be alone. At twenty-five, I was already once divorced. I met my now ex-husband when I was twelve years old. We both had attended the same private school and I first saw him in mathematics class.
As a child, he was very soft-looking; he had big, hazelnut-colored eyes, a small mouth with a matching gentle chin, soft eyebrows that blended in with his skin, and golden brown hair. He was also very well-mannered bordering on what I perceived as "girly." One day, I decided to sit next to him during class and I noticed that as he wrote down notes, he also doodled a little on the far side of the page. The very first day I spoke to him, he was drawing a penguin. I waited until class ended to say, "That's a cute penguin."
He smiled at me and thanked me, but immediately collected his notebook and left the classroom.
This was a Friday and I remember this very well because that weekend I spent a good amount of my time overthinking why he would have just left without really continuing the conversation. On Monday, I decided to sit behind him instead and when class ended, he turned to me and gave me a piece of paper folded into fours.
"What is this?" I asked him.
"Open it to see," he said very quickly.
I opened it and in it was a very big drawing of a girl penguin. I could tell it was a girl because he had drawn big lashes on her eyes and he had given her two pig-tails, as well as a necklace. I noticed that the necklace had a pendant of a little star, that is, it was the same necklace I used to wear everyday to school.
"Oh, thank you. It's very good!" I said to him, kind of quietly. My cheeks felt like a furnace.
On Fridays, as I stay in, sometimes I'll be flooded with these types of memories and it makes me feel like I'm that girl again, seeing him for the first time. On this particular Friday in mid-June, I decided that since it is hot out, I should do something in the yard. I put on a bikini, a loose tunic, shorts, and sandals. I grab a book and head out to my yard through the back door and sit down on the lounge chair.
After divorcing, the court decided that half of the apartment belonged to me and the other half belonged to him. However, my ex-husband said that I could live in it if I wanted to, but I really did not want to. We put it up for sale and I moved about half an hour away, into a woodsy suburb. Since I imagined myself living alone for a long time, I rented a three-bedroom ranch, with a little yard. Big enough for me but too small for a family.
In this town, the houses were further apart but I could still see the neighbor's yard over my low fence. I did not ever really meet any of my neighbors except for the ones I shared a fence with. When I first moved here, a woman of about forty-five rang my doorbell. She had a small container in her hands. Her hair was dark and long and if it hadn't been for her crows feet slightly showing as she smiled, I would have thought she was closer to my age.
"Hello," I said to her.
"Hi, sorry to bother you. I was excited to get a new neighbor and wanted to introduce myself," I nodded and she continued. "My name is Renee. I brought some homemade cookies." She extended her arm with the container. I grabbed the cookies and thanked her.
"I'm Monica, it's nice to meet you." And before she walked away, I also told her:
"I really appreciate you coming. I'm really tired right now, it was a long day but maybe we could talk tomorrow after I've settled in?"
Her face brightened up and she replied "Sure. You can either come over to my place or I can come here. Husband won't be in tomorrow so... really either works!"
We settled on me going over hers for dinner and I closed the door.
The next day, I assembled a small cheese bake with some brie, peaches, and honey. I grabbed the store-bought crostini and headed out the door for my neighbor's house. The house was much bigger than my ranch but still modest. A 1950's Cape Cod house with french windows and a wide yard. From my yard, I had seen their large birch tree with a birdhouse and a colorful assembly of flowers spread all around the sides. They also had a deck with a garden table, covered by white curtains that looked like they were made of linen. I rang the doorbell and she came out wearing a knee-length, half-sleeve wrap dress. I felt a bit underdressed seeing her as I wore denim shorts with a fitted black top.
I went in and she led me towards a white kitchen. I sat on a stool by the island and she started to take out different pans from the oven and set them on the stovetop. I commented on the beauty of her home and she asked me if I was hungry. I wasn't yet, I told her. She led me towards the back sliding doors that opened to the garden and we sat on the chairs underneath the linen canopy.
"So what brings you to move here? You look pretty young... do you have any children?" she asked me as she sipped on ice water.
"Um well I recently divorced..." she nodded her head slowly and contorted her face as if to show sympathy at this, but made no comments. "And no, no children... I have always liked the quietness of the suburbs and the privacy and this town is not so far from my work in the city so it really makes sense for me to move here." I paused for a second, unsure on what to say next. "Do you have any children?"
"Yes, one. He actually recently moved back in after finishing college. I really was kind of hoping that he wouldn't move back in after he finished, he had always told me that he planned on getting a job immediately after finishing... but you know, the job market is really tough right now."
"Can only imagine it. When I first graduated college, it took me about six months to find a job. Thankfully, my ex-husband got one immediately after graduation so I didn't worry that much..."
"How old are you?" she asked me suddenly. I told her 25 and she nodded her head slowly. "Young, even younger than I estimated. You married young then?"
"Yes, at 21."
"Oh! My boy is 21 now, can't even imagine him marrying right now. Probably not for a long time!" she laughed and as her laughter died down, I heard the fence door clank closed. A young man, short in stature, but very lean and muscular walked in. He smiled, a tight-lipped smile, and waved. "This is him right here. Monica, this is my son Caleb."
Caleb slowly made his way up the steps of the deck, I stood up and extended my arm towards him, but he had his arms outstretched as if going for a hug. So I put my arm down, let out a low laugh, and embraced him briefly. He smelt clean but a little musty as if a fresh sweat had just collected on him from being in the summer heat.
"Nice to meet you," he said quickly after releasing me. He nodded his head and made his way inside. After he was gone, his mother told me:
"He's a nice boy. Has always been very social and friendly," she said this and then lowered her voice to say the next thing. "But he's been more quiet since coming back. I know he's an adult and everything, but I still worry that it means something is wrong." I wanted to say something of substance back and I kept running different ideas in my head. Truth was, her son was closer to my age than I was to her age. Offering any advice really would not make any sense.
"I bet he's all right. It's just a transition. They're always hard."
-
As I sit on the lounge chair on this day, I see him come out to the yard over my fence. He is staring out and I don't know where to look. Thankfully I had sunglasses on so for all he knew I could have had my eyes closed.
I hadn't seen him since last week, when I first met him. This past week, as I continued unpacking and rearranging the house, commuting to work and back home, cooking- doing all those little habits I need to do to keep myself alive and functioning-I felt a little more enlivened. In between the moments in which I felt very content and brightened, I would remember when my mother called me on the phone a few months after my divorce, she had called me "heartless." She said she could not understand how I could go out in my little skimpy dresses every weekend in such an awful time.
"When your father died, I did not even shower or leave the house or do anything for that matter."
I stayed quiet after she said this and did not really respond to her comment. I said that I had to go do something and hung up.
Anyway, as I lay on the lounge chair, Caleb looks at me as he crosses the yard towards the low fence. I look down, it burns to look towards him with the sun starting to set behind him.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi," I take off my sunglasses, shading my eyes with my hand, and smile.
