My Forever Charlie
By
Angel Truly
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2010 Angel Truly
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My Forever Charlie
I like to keep to myself; I don’t even bother to talk to my neighbors. Honestly, I’ve never found a reason to. We see each other come and go, the occasional wave or smile is shared but that’s it. The turnover rate in this gated central valley community has always been high. That can easily be blamed on the nearby railroad tracks and the 3 a.m. whistle. The operator lays on that horn with such power and determination, it sounds like he is not only trying to wake the neighborhood but the dead as well. Nevertheless I feel that establishing friendships with what will be temporary neighbors, a pointless waste of my precious time.
The property is clean, garden themed, white trimmed cottage style duplexes with light sunflower siding. There is a walking path that webs nicely throughout the greenery of the common grounds. Each cottage has its own private yard with white picket fencing as well as an eight foot wall to separate our gardens from our neighbors; thank goodness. Depending on the time of year, the wind may carry with it the smell of citrus trees from the nearby orchards.
Seasonally, the homeowners association hosts a competition for the best decorated yard. Currently I flaunt the trophy for the finest autumn garden a title I’ve maintained for the past five years. I don’t know how or why, but this neighborhood has attracted all kinds. We have everything from respectable doctors who drive luxury automobiles, to section 8 crack heads, who, ironically also drive luxury vehicles, they just drive them…differently.
Now anyone who knows me, knows that I have stress…ex-stress….that is… current stress from having one crazy ass ex. Hope that covers it. Due to this stress, I’ve been losing my hair, there are bags under my eyes which are near impossible to get rid of and I think I’m going blind. I also blame my ex for the lines that are stacking up on my forehead; I’ve begun to resemble a shar-pei. Not really of course…but they look that way to me. All of these delights are the opposites of the, “healthy image” I try to keep and maintain. I am after all a yoga instructor who sometimes moonlights as a waitress…in my underwear. And no matter how much rest I get, the constant tension in my neck continues to build, giving me chronic back pain and debilitating migraines. Hey!This is my story and I’ll cry if I want to.
I’ve tried several relaxation techniques; glass…more like glasses of wine, running and I even gave in to a weekend spa retreat at a nudist colony with some co-workers. It all helps, but those damned daily phone calls from my ex have me filled up with so much anxiety that my “happy place” is visualizing ripping my spinal cord right out of my back.
Thanks to an ignorant judge who believed my pathological liar of an ex, that jerk gets to call me whenever the hell he wants, even if the children are with him! I’m not fighting the situation, it is what it is and I’m just trying to live with it. It sucks and unfortunately it shows. As I soon found out, I was not the only one who had been paying attention.
The event that occurred a several months ago in the two bedroom cottage adjacent to my own could only be called a “short sale” the price most folks are paying during this recession. It went like this; one afternoon my two young neighbors were moving out and by the next afternoon a family of eight had moved in. Did I mention this was only a two bedroom? Based on the appearance of my newest neighbors, I believe them to be of Middle Eastern, or Asian, or Eastern European or…it really doesn’t matter. What does matter is the elder male of the family.
This man appeared to be at several years older than myself, and out of his entire family, he alone had made it a point to say, “Hi” every single time his eyes found me. It was annoying…really annoying. I’ve waved, or smiled, or gave him a quick sideways, “Hello” back; nothing more than I would give any of my other neighbors. Overall, I found his overt friendliness to be… just plain weird. Weird because he had singled me out, I never caught him staring or waving at others the way he did me.
He was married, and that fact was more than I cared to know about him and his family. The reason I was aware of his wife, was because shortly after they moved in, one of my letters was accidentally delivered to their mailbox. The elder man and his angry looking wife came to my front door to personally hand deliver it to me, though they could have easily just put it into my box.
When these neighbors discovered that we had children the same age, the old man showed up nearly afternoon with his youngest trying to get the children to play together. After several rejections from my son, not me, the man went so far as to ask, “Well, when will your son be able to play?” WTF? As the next few weeks played out, not only did I discover why he had been watching me, but I also discovered why he was so aggressively friendly.
I had had another irrational pointless argument with my ex one he had been trying to have for sometime. Threats were made, insults were thrown, the past was dug up; it was ugly. After hanging up on him, I cleaned my entire house while crying non-stop. When I was done, I retired to my room where I attacked my bed pillow with my fists then screamed and cried into it. Later, I strolled into the kitchen where I quickly devoured five chocolate chip cookies followed by three glasses of wine. This was all pointless because I was still angry and restless…and of course, consequently bloated.
All I wanted to do was go numb. I wanted my mind to shut up or shut off. I attempted a soak in the tub, but my crying and self-talk echoed against the bathroom walls and further irritated me. I tried to post on my blog about how I felt about the fight, but my fingers were shaking so badly I feared for the safety of my laptop. I took out my journal and scribbled angrily for sometime then ended up throwing the damn thing against the bedroom wall, chipping off some of the lilac paint.
Giving up on documenting the fight, or how I felt about it, I crawled into bed. There, through teary eyes, I watched the digital clock on my nightstand slowly make its way from 1:31 a.m. to 4:17 a.m. The entire time my mind replayed the phone call, and all the things I wish I had said to that selfish inconsiderate piece of man scum. What really got to me during those hours, I mean what really pissed me off….was knowing deep down, that that jerk-off, was sleeping peacefully.
Eventually I gave up on sleep. I got up, made my bed, threw on some black yoga shorts and a worn out tee. I walked down my short hallway into the kitchen and opened up the window above the sink. I stared up at the black sky the full moon was still high and I tried to counting the starts, but even that failed to calm my nerves. A gentle morning breeze rustled the leaves in my garden and I heard some birds fly out of the tree nearest my kitchen window. Then slowly and deeply I breathed in the fresh morning air.
“UUUGH damn! That is so disgusting! Who the heck wakes up and the first thing they do is inhale chemicals? What the-?”
Yeah I said that… out loud, through the open window to an otherwise slumbering neighborhood. My fatigue factor and the fact that my stress threshold was way beyond natural capacity are the only excuses for my outburst. I slammed my window shut then turned my attention to the crumbs from my previous nights stress induced-carb-attack and emptied them into the already overflowing trash can. I tied off the trash bag and put it by the sliding door. I remember looking up at the sky again; it had turned nearly navy blue, the moon was still hovering brightly like a glowing pearl but the stars were starting to fade away. As I turned to put a new bag into the garbage can, I heard the bag by the door start to move.
WOOSH!
My poorly tied knot had come undone and the contents at the top of the bag had spilled onto the floor. I ran over to clean up the mess. It really was not that bad, but given my fragile state, I began to cry…yes again.
“It’s always something!” I yelled; along with some choice swear words. I retied the bag and violently slid open my backdoor. I walked across my garden steps, out my gate, towards the common dumpster. I ignored the shadow of the “overly friendly” old neighbor, him and his funky cigarette. By the time I reached the dumpster I began to realize and care that I would have to go back….past him. I knew that he’d heard me complain about the smoke, he’d heard me slam my kitchen window and with only paper thin walls between us, who knows what else he heard.
I crossed my arms as high as I could, to hide my braless chest and then took the walk of shame back to my cottage. I could feel the old mans eyes on me the entire time, always watching me. I quickly ran my hand through my long brown hair to smooth out what would have been bed head and reassessed my attire.
If it had been any lighter outside the old man would have gotten a pretty good show. I was confident that I’d walked past him too fast for him to see clearly what was going on under my shirt. Being a curvy size eight with a pair of double-dees, if he was looking, the most that he would have seen was a lot of bouncing. I’m usually decent and respectful of my neighbors and I do own a bathrobe, but my previous excuse for bad behavior left me wide open for what happened next.
“You are up early,” the old man spoke.
“Yeah, couldn’t sleep.” I seriously tried to rush off, but he reached his arm out towards me, stopping me in my tracks.
“I heard you, what you said. I am sorry about the smoke. I actually quit for about two years but the stress got the better of me,” He explained though he didn’t have to. Given my state I had little patience for him and his foreign accent.
“Yeah well…”
“Here. For you Angel, I put it out,” he tossed the butt onto the ground and rubbed it into the cement with the bottom of his worn out leather slipper. I could not hide the fact that I was slightly unnerved by him not only remembering my name, from my misplaced mail, but using it; after all we had never been formally introduced. I personally had no idea, nor care as to what his name was.
Then, as though he had read my mind, “My name is Charlie,” he stuck out his hand. I pulled one hand out from under my armpit, reached out and shook his.
Charlie? He sure the hell didn’t look like a Charlie, medium brown skin, thick eyelashes, and a turban but I didn’t really care. All I wanted was to get back inside my home before it got any lighter out. I let go of his large yet surprisingly soft hand and returned it to my armpit.
“So why you can not sleep?” he asked. I marveled at the way he had asked me, it was as if he already knew the answer. I was surprised that he was staring at my face, my eyes and he looked genuinely worried.
I smiled, “Stress I guess, maybe I should take up smoking.”
“No, you do not want to start smoking, it is very bad for you,” he must have sensed my discomfort because he then looked up past me and started to wander over to one of the nearby trees in the common area, “Smoking is also a terrible waste of money Angel.”
With Charlie’s back to me, I took a near silent step towards my gate.
“Angel, come see this,” the annoyance on my face was entirely gone by the time I had turned around and made my way towards Charlie. He wasn’t creepy enough or ugly enough to dodge. He was taller than me, with an average build: thick, not fat, but strong. He was dressed in a striped button up shirt and jeans.