Vacant(3)

~

I’m lying in bed, thinking about the stupid question she asked me. “What do you do for fun?” How could such a simple question send me into a tailspin?

That’s when I hear a whimper. It’s been a while since anyone’s lived next door, and the last guy who lived there was never home, so I’m used to quiet. The walls are thin in apartments like this, cheaply built and economically priced rental units. Much expense was spared in their construction. I’m certain we share no more than a few two-by-fours and two slabs of sheetrock as the wall. It doesn’t provide any more privacy than that found between bedrooms in the same home instead of two separate residences. I turn my head, thinking it will improve my ability to discern what I think I’m hearing. It doesn’t, but then I hear muted sobbing. That can only mean one thing—new neighbor girl is crying. I turn away, wanting the sound to stop; I don’t want to be involved.

The next morning shows no signs of life from my neighbor, but that’s no surprise. The noise coming from her side of the duplex kept me up well into the night, so I’m sure she’s sleeping in. I, on the other hand, take part in my free exercise routine—running. I do this early in the morning for two reasons: one, I avoid those who may feel the need to hassle me for money. They are not early risers, as hassling is a mid-morning and post-lunch activity. Two, it gets hot as fuck here in the summer, and running in 105 degree temperatures is just stupid.

I crest the hill on my street, nearly completing my three miles, and see her setting out the trash. New girl is looking around nervously, probably in hopes of going undetected since she’s barely dressed in her tiny shorts and tank top. It’s not leaving a whole hell of a lot to the imagination, and my mind wanders as I catch a glimpse at her ass. I see her throw a couple of empty boxes to the curb then turn and rush inside. I’m close enough that I can see the blackened bottoms of her feet as she scurries inside, then wonder how often she goes without shoes.

~

A few days pass before I see her again as I return from my run. This time she’s leaving a few plastic grocery sacks out for the trash. Once again, she’s dressed in the same tank and shorts she wore on Sunday. After my cool down stretch, I make my way inside and gather my things to shower. Only then does it occur to me that I haven’t heard the water turn on in neighbor girl’s unit at any point since she moved in, not even a toilet flush. The only sound I hear from her side of the wall is the crying each night. I recall her statement about not having electricity. I’m guessing she doesn’t have the water turned on yet, either.

A knot forms in my stomach.

Don’t get involved. Keep things simple. Take care of yourself!

I can’t help it and walk out my door, knocking on hers seconds later. It takes a moment before I realize I’m only wearing my shorts, but it’s too late. She opens the door a crack and eyes me.

“Ethan,” she greets, and then opens the door a little wider, looking around cautiously.

“Emily, right?”

“Yeah. What’s up?” She’s smiling again, just like when we met.

“I noticed that you, um…don’t have electricity yet, and you don’t have water either, huh?” She bites the inside of her cheek nervously.

“No.” Her reply is so small, just like she is, and I can tell she’s embarrassed.

“Come on,” I say, motioning for her to follow me. “You can shower and wash your clothes at my place. I pay a flat fee for the water, so you using it won’t cost me any more money.”

Don’t get involved. Keep things simple. Take care of yourself!

It’s too late, though. I’m already involved. It’s no longer simple, and for the first time ever, I’m offering to care for someone other than myself.





~Involved~


“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Ethan.” She’s wrapped tightly in one of my towels, and I feel a… stirring. I wonder if she understands she’s half-naked in front of a stranger. I try not to be obvious in my perusal of her form; her body is small, but her tits are high, round, and a little large for her frame, though no complaints. I briefly wonder what her nipples look like, and lick my lips but catch myself before my ogling turns creepy.

“It’s no problem,” I answer hastily, refusing to look further at her.

I stop short before making my next statement. No matter how much I tell myself to mind my own business, I can’t seem to help dispensing advice. “You know, you can’t live without utilities, Emily.” I wonder where this girl comes from that she thinks living with no water or electricity isn’t a problem; my level of concern is now elevated a notch or two.