The Hooligan
by
From the author of “The Dance”
This
is going to be a work in progress. I’m posting this first bit because winter
break is just beginning for me and it will be motivation for me to finish this
story before school starts again in January. This story, while including
various DL/TB/AB themes, is not focused on such. Rather, I desire to explore a
tragic event that occurred in my neighborhood with a unique light. I would
appreciate your feedback as I post each section. Selfishly, it will motivate me
to write more, and I always take advice to heart and would love any opportunity
to improve my writing and this story. Good luck with the holiday prep and I
hope to hear from whoever has comments on this first part. (
Part 1
I got home from
Its funny, the millionaires, they expect everything, like they deserve it. But the billionaires, nicest people in the world, I swear. Mostly take care of themselves. Now that’s one I can’t figure out. My job sure makes you hate the millionaires though. I suppose it’s like a football player celebrating obnoxiously after a touchdown. As the age old coach saying goes, “Act like you’ve been there before.” The billionaires do, the millionaires act like a child who just got their first b-b gun. And it’s my window they are shooting out. Oh well, I get paid handsomely for my troubles. I’ll pamper the millionaires all they want for my own million.
Haven’t really talked with any of my neighbors since I returned, except trusty old Mr. Taylor. Nicest guy in the world and he mows my lawn for me while I’m gone. Doesn’t want a penny for his troubles either. He tells me it keeps him alive. He’s got cancer, and the doctors say as soon as he stops working, he’ll die. Well, he’s retired, so his job is taking care of the yard. I’ve tried to pay him, really. But he won’t take it. Cookies, though, are a fine currency. I’ll get my aunt to cook him some tomorrow.
Anyway, Mr. Taylor said all has been well in the neighborhood except for one thing. Some real “hooligans,” as he called them, moved in up the road. A bunch of high school kids, I gathered. I’m guessing only one or two moved in with their parents and all their buddies are hanging out at the new house. Either way, they’ve been causing trouble, says Mr. Taylor. Stole a carton of cigarettes and a leather jacket from his truck. He later found the jacket in the park nearby.
Noises from the back yard broke me from my reverie and half dream. I glanced quickly at the clock. Three in the morning. Someone was digging about in my truck. I crept silently to my window and peaked a look. A pack of maybe five shadows were crowded around the back of my truck that held most of my equipment I haven’t bothered to unpack since I got home.
“Bah,” I muttered quietly, “the hooligans.”
I shook my head clear of the fog that had clouded my consciousness and opened the top drawer of my desk. I pulled out my .45 revolver and checked to makes sure it was empty of bullets. I had no intention of shooting the hooligans, only give them a good scare.
I grabbed my flashlight and headed downstairs. I paused before opening the front door realizing I was only dressed in my underwear. Not too scary. Well, a good bright flashlight would take care of anyone seeing in my direction.
I silently opened the door and stepped out into the cold air of early September. The hooligans were whispering fiercely, trying to decide what to take. I didn’t give them long to decide. Taking a deep breath, I flicked on the flashlight.
The five hooligans turned out to be five teenage boys and the look they all gave the bright light would have made me laugh had it been another situation. They immediately started to scramble for the gate.
“Any of you ever seen a gun?” I said loudly, directing the flashlight onto the gun in my hand. “Stay where you are and I won’t use it.”
I turned the light back on the fleeing boys. “In other words, Freeze!” I shouted. That did the trick. The five boys skidded to a halt.
“Now, walk toward the light. Slowly,” I said, bringing my voice down. I didn’t want any neighbors waking up. The boys slowly walked toward me. “There, stop,” I said when they were about ten feet away. I took turns flashing the light in each boy’s face, who, in turn, each tried to cover their eyes with their hand. There was no way they could see me.
“Are you aware you are on private property?” I asked slowly. “I could’ve shot each of you and would not have gotten into trouble. You are all very lucky I’m such a softie.”
I looked at the group, which turned out to be quite a motley one. One was tall, one was fat, two were about average, and one was quite small. I pointed my light at the tall one.
“How old are you?”
“Fourteen,” came the reply.
“You all in high school?”
All five nodded. I pointed my light at the small one. “You fourteen too?”
The boy nodded. He looked dreadfully scared and I momentarily felt bad. I quickly remembered it was they who brought this on themselves. I kept my focus on the small one.
“What’s your name?”
“Nate,” the boy said, his voice high and faltering.
“What reason, may I ask, did you have for breaking into my truck?”
The boy shrugged. I took a step closer and swept my flashlight on all five of them
“Contrary to what they tell you in school, none of you are special, none of you are unique. You are one of seven billion people on this earth. You have no special privileges, you have no special rights. You especially have no right to break into my goddamn truck!”
I finished with my light on the small one again who was now shaking. I noticed a wet spot had formed on the front of his pants. I really had them scared. Probably enough. I took another step closer.
“If I see any of you instigating any trouble in this neighborhood again, I will cause you so much hell, you’ll wish your mother had never met your father. Ok? And stop stealing from Mr. Taylor. He’s a nice man. Now, go home.”
Four of the hooligans ran off. The fifth, the small one, didn’t move.
“You going home, Nate?” I asked roughly as I let the flash light rest on him. I felt a knot in my stomach as I saw what I had done to this kid. His face was clenched tight, his eyes tightly closed as tears traced glistening paths down his cheeks. His whole body was shuddering with sobs and I noticed that the wet spot had turned into a soaked pair of pants.
“It wasn’t even my idea,” he sobbed. “I didn’t even want to.”
I kind of felt like crying. “Now, come on. You did what you did. You didn’t have to go along with your buddies. You could’ve gone home. You didn’t, did you?”
The boy shook his head, his crying became harder.
“Aw, come on, kid. Go on home. I ain’t gonna call the cops on you or nothing. Go get out of them wet clothes and get some sleep.”
The boy nodded and turned and started to shuffle away.
“Nate,” I said after a moment.
He turned back towards me.
“Find some new friends, huh? They don’t seem like your type. You’re a good kid, I can tell. Sorry for making you…” I trailed off.
He looked down and sniffled, breathing shakily in.
“Good night,” I said, and flicked off the light. I turned towards my house and was about to step inside when I heard a light snickering.
“What?” I asked incredulously.
“You were in your whitey-tighties.”
I looked down at myself and realized the moonlight was brighter than I had anticipated.
“Go get yourself into some dry ones,” I said roughly, then slammed the door. I stood at the doorway and watched the boy walk out of my yard. I genuinely felt bad for scaring the kid so bad. The other ones, they deserved it, but Nate seemed like a good one. Oh well, none of them should be giving me any trouble anymore. I made my way back up to my bed and fell quickly back asleep.
*******
I woke up late the next morning feeling refreshed and well rested. I quickly showered and ate a small breakfast, being that it would be lunch time in just a short while. As I was washing out my cereal bowl, I heard a knock at my door. I walked to the door, expecting to find Mr. Taylor. To my surprise, I recognized the boy from last night fidgeting around on my front porch. I opened the door slowly.
“Nate? Back so soon. Did you forget something?”
“I just…” Nate looked around everywhere except at me. “I just wanted to apologize for last night,” he finally finished, staring searchingly up at me.
I looked him over carefully. He looked very young, definitely not fourteen. He had light brown hair that was cut short. His face had soft features, big hazel eyes.
“I’m not sure I want to say I forgive you because what you boys did was not ok,” I said carefully. “This should be a safe neighborhood, and what ya’ll were doing was ruining that.”
He nodded, turning his gaze away from me. Nate started to walk down my stairs.
“But,” I said quickly. He stopped and looked back up at me. “I forgive you.”
He nodded and looked away. “I really am sorry. If I can make it up to you, I’d like to.”
“Well, come to think of it, I was going to clean out my flowerbeds today. If you help me, we’ll call it even.”
Nate frowned. “Anything more exciting?”
“Hey, you were the one that offered your help. You can’t be picky,” I said, laughing lightly. He scrunched his face up and looked away. “Do your parents know where you are at?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Well, do you live close?”
“Just up there,” Nate answered, pointing up the block.
“Well, go let them know and come on back, then we’ll get started.”
He nodded, then ran off the porch and towards his house.
I smiled as I shut the door. Maybe the yard work wouldn’t be so bad today.
**********
Nate returned to my house just ten minutes later, now dressed in shorts and a t-shirt.
“Ready to work?” I asked. He nodded. “Ok, well, it’s in back. There is quite a bit to do, I’ll warn you. How about you only owe me an hour, then I’ll pay you for the rest.”
He looked up at me in surprise.
“What is the going rate these days?”
He shrugged again. “Dunno. How about seven an hour.”
I pondered the proposal, though I was expecting something much higher. “Done. It’s a deal.” I stuck out my hand. He eyed it curiously for a second, then tentatively reached out and shook it. “You got a good handshake,” I commented.
He looked away quickly, embarrassed, but I caught a small smile creep onto his face.
We worked steadily until my stomach started to grumble. If I’m hungry, I thought, the kid must be starving. I glanced at my watch.
“Want to take a lunch break?”
He nodded vigorously. “Yeah, that would be nice.”
It was the first words we had spoken since we began. I had a lot to say, and a lot to ask, mostly about why he was breaking into people’s trucks, but I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable so I had kept my mouth shut.
We headed toward the back door. As I stepped inside, he paused and looked up at me questioningly.
“Yes, you can come in,” I said with a small laugh.
“Should I take off my shoes?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I replied, quickly slipping off my dirty shoes. I normally wouldn’t have done that, but it was a good idea. We stepped into the kitchen and I went to the freezer, pulling out two frozen burritos. I held one up, eyeing him. He nodded in agreement. I threw them both in the microwave.
“Should be ready in a couple of minutes. You thirsty?”
He nodded again. I reached into the fridge and grabbed two cokes, tossing one to Nate. He cracked it open and took a seat at my kitchen table.
“So, what school do you go to?” I asked, deciding it was time for conversation to start.
“Actually, um, I’m home schooled,” he said quietly.
“Oh?” I eyed him carefully to find his opinion of the situation. He didn’t look too thrilled about it and I guessed he had some strict parents back at home.
“So, how’d you meet those boys you were with last night?” I asked.
“Well,” he started, taking a sip of coke, “Joe, the tall one, just moved in a couple of weeks ago. I’d never had anyone my age around here, so I started hanging out with him and his friends.”
“You like them?”
He shook his head slowly. “I mean, you saw me last night. I wasn’t exactly, ah, thrilled with the situation.”
I quickly turned away to hide a smile. This kid was smart too, I could tell. “Well, let me recommend you find a new set of friends,” I said while placing the burritos on plates. I turned around and handed one to him.
“I know, I heard you last night.”
I laughed lightly.
“So, what should I call you?”
I looked at him surprised and realized I hadn’t bothered to introduce myself. Embarrassed, I stuck out my hand. “My names David.”
He shook my hand for the second time. “Good to meet you David,” he said with a smile.
I smiled back then dug into my food. “Eat up, we got a lot more work to do.”
In no time we were back outside.
Now that conversation had started, it didn’t slow. I learned that his parents
were strict, conservative Christians, but that he wasn’t too interested
following in their closely guided footsteps. I learned that he was bright, very
smart and well read for a kid of fourteen. He liked sports, but wasn’t that
good at them, mostly for the reason that he was too small. I told him about my
life, a little bit. What I did up in
As the sun started to set, I told him it was probably good enough. We put away the rakes and stacked the bags at the side of the house. As we walked out front I reached into my pocket for my wallet.
“So, how much do I owe ya, Nate?”
He shrugged. I pulled out a one hundred dollar bill.
“Will that do it, Sir?” I asked with a grin, and handed him the bill.
His eyes bulged. “You serious?”
“Yep. You did good today, Nate.” I patted him lightly on the back. “You know,” I said seriously, looking him in the eye. He face got serious as well. “It takes a lot of guts to do what you did; apologizing, I mean. You are a real good man.”
He nodded then looked away. I could tell he was embarrassed. “Listen, you run on home. Anytime you want some work, you come on by. I’ll be here all summer and I’ll have lots to do.”
“Thanks David,” he whispered, then ran off down the street.
I stood there in the orange glow of the sunset and watched him disappear around the corner. I turned and walked back into my house. Milling about in the kitchen, I felt a feeling I had not felt in a long while. Loneliness. Always so busy, I never had time for that common enemy. But here it was, knocking on my door.
The next morning, I awoke to the sun lightly sifting its way through my half-closed window-blinds. I reached and tried to close them all the way, but the whole contraption came crashing down on my bed. I groaned and rolled over, looking at the clock. Six in the morning. I lay in bed contemplating my day. Looking back at the blinds, I decided I needed to buy some new ones today. I did not want the sun being my wakeup alarm all summer long.
I got in my car and drove to the hardware store, stopping to get coffee along the way at one of the coffee sheds that dot the roads in my town. Starbucks had yet to take over and private coffee still ruled the streets. I waited outside the store for it to open at seven, watching the surrounding neighborhood slowly come to life. When the clerk finally unlocked the doors, I speedily purchased new window blinds and drove back to my house.
As I pulled onto my street, I noticed that a lot of cars where parked in front what Nate had said was his house last night. I slowed down and coasted past the packed driveway. A bit early for a party, I thought. Well, none of my business, I decided.
I quickly fixed my window back home and was left with nothing to do again. I didn’t really feel up to tackling any of the big projects that my house required. There was nothing good on the television, as usual. I kept glancing my head out my front door, checking on Nate’s house. It seemed more cars were arriving every minute. Curiosity was getting the best of me so I decided to check with Mr. Taylor. If anything was going on in the neighborhood, he’d know.
I knocked on his door lightly, considering it was only eight in the morning. His wife, Edith, opened the door. She looked like she had been crying.
“Good morning, Mrs. Taylor, sorry to bother you so early.”
“No, no. No problem. Come on in,” she said softly, motioning for me to follow.
I stepped lightly into the foray, quickly removing my shoes. Mr. Taylor peeked his head out from the kitchen.
“Good morning, David. You hungry? I got some eggs on the griddle.” He said, turning back into the kitchen. It did smell good.
“I could probably manage to eat one,” I replied with a wink at Mrs. Taylor. She forced a smile and walked to the window, staring out at Nate’s house.
“So what brings you over?” Mr. Taylor said from the kitchen.
“I was, ah, curious. Wondered if you knew what was going on at that house over there.”
“The Argrows?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess. I’m not sure. The boy’s name Nate.”
“One of the boys,” Mrs. Taylor said softly, still staring out of the window.
“There’s more,” I asked.
“Two younger ones.”
“Oh. Well, did something happen over there?”
Mrs. Taylor remained silent. Mr. Taylor leaned out of the kitchen and motioned me in.
“Simon, the dad, died this morning,” He said slowly.
“Jesus. That’s terrible,” I said, taking a seat. “Was he sick?”
“Who knows,” Mr. Taylor said, flipping the eggs.
“How’d he die?”
“Suicide.”
I felt sick. I rested my head in my hands and closed my eyes. “Jesus. In the house?”
Mr. Taylor brought me a cup of coffee and sat down across the table. He sipped his coffee contemplatively for a moment. I waited patiently, taking a drink as well.
“Thank you for the coffee. It’s good.”
“I agree. Edith buys it from friend. Best I’ve ever had.” He paused and looked toward the living room. “You want a cup, honey?”
There was no answer. Mr. Taylor shrugged.
“No, at work. He worked out at the steel works. I’m not sure how he died, actually, but it was a suicide I hear.”
“Have you been over there yet?” I asked.
Mr. Taylor nodded. “It nearly broke my heart. It’s bad over there. Very bad. The whole goddamn extended family is there. Which is good I guess. But poor Mia. Jesus, David, its bad. She’s a wreck. The kids are confused and crying because every one else is. I had to get out quick. Too many people over there anyways.”
“How’s Nate?”
“He was hiding in his room when I got there. I’d assume not doing too well.”
I started to stand up.
“Don’t go over there now, David. It won’t help. In the afternoon, maybe. But right now their family just needs to be together.”
I paused, not sure if I should obey Mr. Taylor or not. After a second, I realized he was probably right and sat back down.
“I had Nate over yesterday.”
“Yeah, I saw.”
“Bright kid. Hard worker too.”
Mr. Taylor was staring at his coffee, seemingly searching for an answer in the steaming dark liquid. He reached up a weathered hand and wiped his eyes.
“God, I can’t believe it. Simon was a good person.” Mr. Taylor was speaking slow, deep in thought. “He helped with yard work on the block, played with his kids. A loving father. I just can’t imagine what would’ve caused him to kill himself. Those poor kids. Poor Mia. I almost can’t bear to think about the hell that family has in store for them this winter.”
I took a quick drink of my coffee to try and force the knot that was forming in my throat away. I coughed lightly.
“Well, we can help them,” I said.
“Oh, we will. But we can only do so much. Those kids need a father.”
I nodded in agreement.
We talked for another hour. At some point, Mrs. Taylor joined us. After breakfast, I thanked them for the hospitality and walked back to my house. There seemed to be even more cars around their house than before. Mr. Taylor had been right. It was not a good time to go over there.
The somber melancholy that had set
in over at the
I finished the story just as the sun concluded its daily goodbye. While the pages had been passing by, an idea had formed in my mind. The story bared a striking similarity to what my time at home could be. Here was Nate, a boy in need of care, of a father. Not so much different from the boy in the story. I knew how I would spend the rest of my year.
I looked out my window, caught by the beauty of the sunset. That was one good thing about my home town. Each night in the fall was destined to end in a breathtaking artistic show. I took a step outside and took a glance at Nate’s house. There were still a few cars outside, but things looked to have quieted down a bit. I held back my instinct to go over there. It had been a long day for the Argrows and I didn’t want to break any peace that might have found its way into the broken home. I decided that an early night would do me good, considering my early start this morning. Resigning my self to bed, I tossed and turned away what turned out to be a fitful night.
Apparently having fallen asleep at some point, I awoke again with the sun, though this time the disobedient blinds were not at fault. I elected to welcome the day with a morning walk and quickly changed into an old sweat suit, remembering that the mornings getting chilly, and made my way outside.
It was a beautiful morning. The air was fresh and clear. Though nothing compared to Alaskan air, it felt good in my lungs. The day promised to be quite satisfactory as only sparse ribbons of clouds rested in the light blue sky.
I made my way around the park that was near my house enjoying the neighborhood that I had missed for the last five months. It was a nice. Not rich, but not run down either. It attracted the nice, mellow type and rarely did disturbances occur (ignoring the current hooligan problem). Typical seventies suburbia where everyone loved their lawns to be green and luscious. It has its benefits, I suppose, but I think lawns are more a psychological escape for the trapped mid-aged husband. Regardless, they do look nice. A pleasant dew had gathered on the tips of millions of well trimmed blades and they glittered magically in the quickly rising sun.
My absent minded analysis came to a quick end as I heard a sobbing up ahead. I looked up from the grass to see a middle-aged woman walking slowly in my direction. Her head was down and her hands were hovering around her face. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach, having a pretty good guess who this was.
As she neared, I coughed loudly to announce my presence. She glanced up and stared at me with puffy, bloodshot eyes. She looked like a mess, her hair unkempt, clothes wrinkled, but whispers of beauty spoke through the painful appearance.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
She looked at me blankly and then spoke in a hollow, shaky voice, “Can you take my kids?”
“I’m sorry? What…what do you mean?” I responded.
“Can they live with you?”
“What happened?”
“They have no home,” she said, then turned her head back to the ground and wandered past me.
I watched her walk slowly away, wondering what to do. I felt like crying. That had to be Mia Argrow. She had probably been up all night. I jogged back up to her.
“Mrs. Argrow?” I asked as I neared. She didn’t respond. I fell in beside her.
“Are you ok?” She still didn’t look. It was as if she didn’t even know I was there.
I stopped and watched helplessly as she continued her slow march of grief. I knew there was nothing I could do for her at the moment. She needed someone close, someone she knew well. Hopefully there was still some family at her house.
I turned slowly away from the heart wrenching sight and continued my walk. I fell into a sort of daze and was surprised a while later to find myself back in front of my house. I stole a quick look at the Argrows’, relieved to see that a few cars still remained. I would go over later, but the boys were still probably asleep. No need to wake them from that temporary reprieve from the horror that had befallen their young lives.
**********
It was the summer of 1977. Simon
Argrow was twelve years old. He lived in the stagnant town of
“Alright, boys, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” Father O'Malley said loudly, clapping his hands and directing a group of seven boys to get into the van that was idling in the church parking lot.
Simon took a seat at the back of the van next to two boys he had just met: John Renway was a newcomer to the neighborhood, just recently moving in near to Simon; and Alex Fox, a veteran of Northway Catholic School, but a boy Simon had worked hard (and successfully) to avoid in his elementary years. Alex was a good kid overall but had one bad trait that overshadowed his agreeable side. He had a sense of humor that usually involved inflicting pain on an unsuspecting nearby victim. Most people tried to avoid Alex Fox. He had nearly given Sister Hathoway a heart attack in fifth grade when a collection of multi-colored thumbtacks had mysteriously found themselves sharp end up on the Sister’s desk chair. Rumor had it that Sister Hathoway had spent her three week absence seeing the local dioceses’ psychological therapist to regain her confidence. Simon silently offered up a prayer requesting a safe passage to summer camp and exemption from any pranks Alex Fox was planning on pulling during the entire two week duration.
During the three hour ride, Simon
got to know his two neighbors quite well. Alex turned out to be a pretty cool
kid and quite funny too. John was so shy Simon was sure his new friend was
going to pass out at some of the jokes Alex threw in his direction. But John
took them all good heartedly and even managed to mutter a word or two near the
end of hour one. By the time they reached
The van pulled into a dusty parking lot where multiple vans were already parked. As the boys unloaded and stretched their anxious limbs, Father O’Malley started throwing all their bags onto the gravel ground.
“Pick ‘em up, boys, and head over to check in. If ya hurry, maybe ya’ll can get a swim in before lunch,” the Father said. The boys didn’t need any more encouragement, and squeals filled the air as they all collected their belongings and raced to the check in table.
Father O’Malley smiled after them, then locked up the van, following the boys at a much more subdued pace.
“God! Ain’t this great!” Simon
shouted as he, John, and Alex splashed around in the warm water of
“Oh! You sinned! No saying God’s name in vain,” John said, throwing water in Simon’s direction. “Better confess!”
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” Simon said dramatically, closing his eyes, clasping his hands, and leaning his head back towards the sun. Holding that pose, he lowered all his fingers on his two hands except his middle ones and pointed them at John.
“Hey!” John squealed as Simon dove for him. The two boys didn’t have to wrestle long before Alex joined the fray, filling the summer air with their laughter and fun.
***********
Exercising restraint in my desire
to do all I could to heal the wounds that had beset the Argrows, I avoided the
family altogether for the next week. Well, I suppose it was only partly by
choice. They all disappeared the morning after I had passed Mia Argrow so
painfully on my walk. The cars parked in front of the house were gone and the blinds
drawn. Then after the weekend, the family van returned. The memorial service
for Simon was that Sunday, and as the mid-morning sun started to warm, the
Taylors and I climbed into Edith’s car and drove to the
It was a somber service – as expected, the service for a man whose life ended far too soon and for no good reason. Various friends spoke of the exceptional character of Simon Argrow: a man who would help anyone in a heartbeat, offer anyone an empathetic ear, money in hard times, a room and a warm supper. I barely knew the man, but unabashedly used half of Edith Taylor’s personal tissue collection.
The family was seated at the front. The three boys, Mia, and what must have been Simon’s mother. I cannot fathom what must have been painfully parading through the minds of those boys; to be at the funeral of your father at an age so young. The youngest boy, perhaps six years old, fidgeted about. Nate didn’t move the entire time. His eyes stared strait ahead even as Mr. Argrow’s closest solemnly carried the dark oak casket out to the waiting hearse.
We did not attend the grave-side service, but instead had lunch at Marty’s Soup Etc. – my favorite lunch spot. A pact was formed among us three to lay aside our lives for the year to at be at the service of the Argrows.
It wasn’t long after when I ran into Nate again. I was out in my front yard a couple of days later, tending to my lawn when I saw Nate riding down the street towards his house. I waved. He half waved back and rode over. I turned off the hose and walked over, shoving my hands deep in my pockets. I felt unprepared for the situation.
“Hi there,” I said.
Nate nodded back, but stayed silent. I stared at him for a second, trying to find some sort of indicator of how I should proceed. He stared blankly at the grass.
“How you holding up?”
He shrugged.
“Hey, listen, I don’t want to, ah…I’m not going to pretend I can do anything. But I want you to know I’m here for you. You know, I don’t know a thing about what you are going through. But if you ever need anyone to talk to, or just someplace to get away for a while, I’m here.” I smiled softly, “and I’ve got plenty of weeds that need pulling.”
Nate didn’t smile back. “Can I go now?” He asked.
I looked at him in surprise. “Of course, Nate. Didn’t mean to keep you. You know where I am at if you need anything.”
He quickly sped off as if we hadn’t even talked. I went back to watering my lawn. I didn’t know what I had been expecting, but I had to admit, it wasn’t that. I looked over towards his house. He had disappeared into the still-darkened blinds and closed door. There was another car keeping the family van company in the driveway, but other that that, the house seemed dead.
I glanced back at the lawn. It looked good. Mr. Taylor had done an exceptional job, as always, over the summer. I decided to go thank him. Walking over to his house, I saw Mr. Taylor laboring away in his backyard. We’re pretty predictable, I mused.
He glanced up as I closed his yard gate behind me.
“Working hard?”
“As always,” he replied, looking up briefly.
“My lawn looks nice. Just wanted to thank you again for your work this summer.”
“Just do it to get out of the house. You know how Edith is,” he looked up with a smile and a wink.
“Oh, you’re just bored.” I leaned against the rain and sprinkler bleached fence. “Just talked with Nate.”
“Oh?” Mr. Taylor put down his rake.
“Didn’t say a word. In fact, seemed like he really didn’t want me to be talking to him.”
Mr. Taylor looked at me for a moment. “It’s only been a couple of days, David.”
“I’m just trying to help,” I said softly.
“Well, just make sure you are doing it for the right reasons.”
I looked at Mr. Taylor in surprise. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean do what is best for the boy, not for you.”