The Love Sucks Club(24)
“Hello...um...friend.” Smiling brightly, I raise a hand and wave to avoid the possibility of having to touch him.
He grins widely. “Hi neighbor. I picked these.”
Holding out his hand, he shows me a couple of nice size mangoes.
“Hey, awesome...dude. Those are nice looking mangoes.”
“Yeah,” he says, staring over my left shoulder. “I like mangoes.”
Voldemort shuffles her feet. “Well, if that’s all...”
Shovel Guy goes on as if he hadn’t heard her. “I have a mango tree in my backyard.”
“Do you?” My smile is fixed on my face now.
“But these came from further up in the woods.”
“Ah.”
“I can get more if you want some.”
Voldemort clears her throat several times, but Shovel Guy and I both ignore her.
“Well, thanks, but see, I actually have a mango tree in my yard.”
“It’s just that these are a different kind than the ones in your yard. I’ll leave these with you and you can let me know how you liked them.”
“That’s nice.” Smiling, I reach out for the mangoes.
He holds on to them, pulling them back toward himself. “Maybe you could try one now,” he says.
My ex loses her cool. “Oh for Christ’s sake, just leave the fucking mangoes and go. We’re in the middle of a conversation.” She pushes on his arm to prod him along.
“Ahh! Ah! Ah!” The man starts yelling. Dropping the mangoes, he jerks away from my ex and brushes at his arm.
“What the fuck?” she yells.
Turning on her, I grit my teeth and snarl. “Get out of here. Just get the hell out of here.”
Shovel guy keeps screaming and jumping around. “She touched me, she touched me!”
Voldemort backs away from him, horrified. She takes off toward her car and I turn back to my neighbor, holding my hands up in a conciliatory manner. He’s staring at the ground, breathing heavily through his teeth. I talk calmly to him as I hear my ex get in her car, turn it around and screech down the dirt road. As she passes through the tree line, I turn to watch her go. Turning back around to my neighbor, I’m astonished to see him laughing.
“What the?”
He grabs his sides, laughing hysterically. “Did you see her face?”
It’s suddenly dawning on me. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Still laughing, he gasps for air. “I couldn’t think of what else to do. I knew she could kick my ass if it came to a fight.”
Slowly, I get it and the laughter wells up from a deep place. Shovel Guy and I sit down on my front step, laughing until tears stream down our faces. Every time I think I have myself under control, he snorts and I start again.
Finally, we gather ourselves and I apologize. “I don’t even know your name.”
He smiles. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t know yours, either.”
“I’m Dana.”
“I’m George.”
“George, it’s nice to meet you. I have a confession to make.”
He raises his eyebrow and waits.
“My friend and I call you ‘Shovel Guy.’”
He laughs. “Well, I have a confession to make, too.”
I deserve it. “Let me have it.”
“I secretly call you ‘The L Word.’”
Letting out another long peal of laughter, I lean back against my front door. Basking in the sunlight and the release of a hard laugh, my body suddenly feels light. “George, I promise to call you by your rightful name from now on.”
He nods and stands. Getting to my feet, I offer him my hand and we shake firmly. “It really is nice to meet you, Dana.”
“Likewise. And thank you.”
He turns to head back to his yard. At the edge of my lawn, he looks over his shoulder and smiles. “You’re going to need to watch out for that one.”
“Yeah. She’s my ex. She’s scary.”
“Scarier than you think.” On that ominous note, he stalks off toward his house.
His departure is so theatrical, I almost want to laugh. Yet, despite the hot sun, I’m struck with a chill. The swirling vision is creeping back to the sides of my vision, too. Walking back into the house, I lock the front door for the first time in months. A headache starts pounding in my left temple, so I down a glass of water along with a few Excedrin. The roaring is starting in my ears. It sounds as if I’m holding a supercharged shell up to my ear in some surreal game of listen to the ocean.
Frank, curled up on the kitchen table in a patch of sunlight, looks completely oblivious to the machinations in my head. The juxtaposition between the normalcy of the scene and the craziness in my head is making me feel stoned. Carefully placing one foot in front of the other, I pad toward the living room with every intention of curling into my favorite chair and sleeping for a few more hours. When I come around the wall, I stop short, clutching my chest with my hand. My favorite chair is no longer empty. Collapsing back against the wall, I flap my mouth open and shut, trying for sound. Finally, I clear my throat and look at the woman in my chair.