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Charity Begins Next Door: Part 2
Can Two Broken people make something whole, again?
In 2 parts, Based on the post from Tx Tall Tales. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.
Neighborhood Party
Cathy
and John were holding a Christmas Eve open-house next door; and
expecting half of the neighborhood over that evening. They were a high
standard in generosity, for the rest of us neighbors to try to emulate.
I made my appearance, around 8:30 ,
and stoically accepted the offered condolences which were definitely
putting me in the wrong state of mind. After only half-an-hour I knew I
had to get out of there, even if it did piss off Cathy.
John
seemed to catch my mood, and dragged me outdoors to enjoy a cigar in
semi-peace. With a heavily spiked eggnog in hand, and a more than decent
Rocky Patel Decade burning nicely, I was willing to stick it out a
little longer when he headed back indoors.
“I should skin you alive for that little stunt, you know.”
I
heard a voice coming from poolside, and headed that way to face the
music. Sandy was sitting there alone, a large, mostly empty glass of
wine at her side.
“I know. I was bad. But I’m done now.”
“What the hell were you thinking?” she snapped.
“I just wanted Erica to have a decent Christmas, and wanted to help you out a little in your effort to sell your house.”
She
cackled, and it wasn’t a pretty sound. “You too? You just barely met me
and you’re so damn eager to get me out of the neighborhood.”
Her
words surprised me. “Not at all. I’m just trying to fight back a bit
against the unfairness of the world. What are you doing out here alone,
anyway?”
“I
can’t stand the way they look at me. Like suicide is contagious or
something. They don’t know what to say; they all avoid me, or look at me
like I was a leper or something.”
“People can be assholes.”
She smiled. “I’ll drink to that.”
I
sat beside her and drank my 80 proof eggnog in silence. We watched a
small group come out and start talking while they lit up their cancer
sticks.
“I know you mean well, Alex. But you can stop now, Ok?” she said softly.
“One last thing.”
“Please. Enough already.”
“Steve called. Everything’s cleared up with the insurance. You’ll get your check next week.”
She looked at me like I’d grown a third eye, completely stunned. “Really?”
“Really.”
She
finished her wine, gulping it down, then sat back. “Shit. Six fucking
months they drag it out and then suddenly, like that,” she snapped her
fingers, “they’re willing to pay up?”
“Steve’s good.”
She
leaned forward and held her head in her hands. After a few seconds I
could see her body was shaking. She was crying, silently.
“I’m sorry it took so long. If I’d been a better neighbor, we might have taken care of this months ago.”
She sat up abruptly, and I could see the streak of the tears on her face. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. Just don’t, Ok?”
“Ok.”
I
sat awkwardly, while she wiped her eyes and turned away from me,
staring out at the backyard. I leaned over and took her empty glass.
“Can I get you a refill?”
“Yeah. I mean, yes, please. Thanks.”
View all episodes
By Dawkins BlogCan Two Broken people make something whole, again?
In 2 parts, Based on the post from Tx Tall Tales. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.
Neighborhood Party
Cathy
and John were holding a Christmas Eve open-house next door; and
expecting half of the neighborhood over that evening. They were a high
standard in generosity, for the rest of us neighbors to try to emulate.
I made my appearance, around 8:30 ,
and stoically accepted the offered condolences which were definitely
putting me in the wrong state of mind. After only half-an-hour I knew I
had to get out of there, even if it did piss off Cathy.
John
seemed to catch my mood, and dragged me outdoors to enjoy a cigar in
semi-peace. With a heavily spiked eggnog in hand, and a more than decent
Rocky Patel Decade burning nicely, I was willing to stick it out a
little longer when he headed back indoors.
“I should skin you alive for that little stunt, you know.”
I
heard a voice coming from poolside, and headed that way to face the
music. Sandy was sitting there alone, a large, mostly empty glass of
wine at her side.
“I know. I was bad. But I’m done now.”
“What the hell were you thinking?” she snapped.
“I just wanted Erica to have a decent Christmas, and wanted to help you out a little in your effort to sell your house.”
She
cackled, and it wasn’t a pretty sound. “You too? You just barely met me
and you’re so damn eager to get me out of the neighborhood.”
Her
words surprised me. “Not at all. I’m just trying to fight back a bit
against the unfairness of the world. What are you doing out here alone,
anyway?”
“I
can’t stand the way they look at me. Like suicide is contagious or
something. They don’t know what to say; they all avoid me, or look at me
like I was a leper or something.”
“People can be assholes.”
She smiled. “I’ll drink to that.”
I
sat beside her and drank my 80 proof eggnog in silence. We watched a
small group come out and start talking while they lit up their cancer
sticks.
“I know you mean well, Alex. But you can stop now, Ok?” she said softly.
“One last thing.”
“Please. Enough already.”
“Steve called. Everything’s cleared up with the insurance. You’ll get your check next week.”
She looked at me like I’d grown a third eye, completely stunned. “Really?”
“Really.”
She
finished her wine, gulping it down, then sat back. “Shit. Six fucking
months they drag it out and then suddenly, like that,” she snapped her
fingers, “they’re willing to pay up?”
“Steve’s good.”
She
leaned forward and held her head in her hands. After a few seconds I
could see her body was shaking. She was crying, silently.
“I’m sorry it took so long. If I’d been a better neighbor, we might have taken care of this months ago.”
She sat up abruptly, and I could see the streak of the tears on her face. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. Just don’t, Ok?”
“Ok.”
I
sat awkwardly, while she wiped her eyes and turned away from me,
staring out at the backyard. I leaned over and took her empty glass.
“Can I get you a refill?”
“Yeah. I mean, yes, please. Thanks.”