Her eyes told a story of loneliness and sorrow. Each weekend spent alone left her further isolated. She sat alone with her thoughts, drifting imagination and feelings of regret.
The sound of high pitch screeching brakes brought Rochelle to her feet. She gently set down the photo album she’d been flipping through for the past few minutes. Slivers of sunlight squeezed in between tightly clenched off-white window blinds. Rochelle approached the window and parted the dusty blinds with her index finger and thumb to glance at the source of the racket. She cringed as the rusty brakes squeaked again.
Next door a full-size moving truck awkwardly backed into the asphalt driveway. She’d just put Skyla down for an afternoon nap and the enormous racket threatened to wake the seven month old sleeping princess. Nap times were valuable and cherished. They gave Rochelle a brief time to sit in silence, to reflect, and to rest. Another long piercing blast brought the dirt covered truck to a stop.
Rochelle let her fingers close together. She examined the commotion through the narrowly opened blinds. A vertically challenged, heavyset man emerged from the driver’s side door. He swung down clumsily, pausing to slurp on a can of Pepsi. He wrestled his green polo shirt down over his potbelly and spat on the ground after violently clearing his throat. Please tell me he’s not the new neighbor.
The man trudged to the back of the moving truck, half-waddling. He tugged on the tricky cargo ramp. He jostled, shook, and banged until it came free. More noise. For his final act he dropped the ramp down, letting it crash against the ground, resulting in a thunderous boom. Rochelle heard Skyla begin to rock in her crib. The infant let out a tiny cry of annoyance.
Rochelle turned towards the hallway that led to the homes three bedrooms, then focused back outside. As she turned, earsplitting, undecipherable hip-hop music began to blare from the moving truck’s horribly distorted sound system. This man was trying to wake the unconscious, let alone a sleeping baby. Skyla released another whimper. Rochelle frowned.
She would’ve closed the windows in the home, but in hazy mid-July heat they needed a breeze to blow through. Her air conditioner decided to quit working around Memorial Day and she didn’t have the extra funds on hand for a repair.
Rochelle watched the stout man bob his head to the musical beat. She dropped her hands from the window and marched to the homes front door. After sliding her feet into her pink flip flops she parted the door just wide enough to squeeze through and landed on the front porch. The aluminum overhead awning shielded her from the sun’s penetrating rays. Rochelle took one foot off the porch and cuffed her mouth. “Excuse me. Excuse me,” she called out.
The chubby man stopped bobbing his head and popped out from the moving truck. He stepped down, smoothing out the front of his wrinkled shirt. He made it two feet into her yard when Rochelle stopped him with a frown.
“I need you to turn that music down. Way down,” she said. Her eyes were slanted and the way she positioned her hand on her hip showed she meant business. His smile faded instantly. His hands ejected from his pockets.
The round fellow plodded forward and paused at the bottom of her front porch. His face held a scowl. “How are you gonna just demand me to turn my music down? It’s a nice day.” He checked his department store brand wristwatch. “It’s one in the afternoon on a Saturday. Come on, loosen up.”
“Look, I asked you nicely.” Her head was moving. “I have my daughter in here trying to sleep. Do you mind?”
He took a step back. “Okay, relax. That’s all you had to say. You don’t have to start going off on me.”
“Going off?” Rochelle frowned at the statement.
He gestured emphatically. “Yea…going off. You come out here, all yelling at me…”
A set of screeching tires out by the road stopped their escalating debate. A deep green full-sized Chevy Silverado whipped alongside the curb. The driver jumped out in haste and began walking across Rochelle’s front lawn.
“Is there a problem?” he asked, addressing no one in particular. The man took giant-sized strides. He easily stood over six feet in height. He removed his baseball cap as he neared. While establishing eye contact with Rochelle, she drank in his impressive physique. “Is he bothering you?” the tall man asked. His eyes were deep, dark, and seemingly sincere.
Rochelle froze.
“Ma’am?” the tall man waited for a response.
“I’m sorry. Yes, I politely asked this little man to turn down his radio and now he’s all up in my face, yelling at me.”
The pudgy man with the wrinkled shirt stepped forward. “Little?” Who are you calling-” A stubby finger neared Rochelle’s face.
The handsome stranger grabbed the smaller man’s hand and shoved it away with force. “Burg, calm down,” he ordered.
“But she-”
“Just calm down Burg.”
Rochelle switched weight to her other side and cocked an eyebrow. “You know this fool?”
The well-built rescuer flashed a brilliant white smile. “I’m sorry to say, he’s my brother. Please excuse his abrasive behavior.” The towering man stood swaying gently hat-in-hand before her. Burg turned in a blur, exhaling heavily. He walked off, kicking at the grass and mumbling underneath his breath.
Rochelle let him leave the yard before speaking. “He’s your brother? Wow.”
“Tell me about it. He’s, well…interesting. But he’s harmless.”
“Good, because I don’t want to be living next door to some raving lunatic.”
He laughed shyly and shook his head. “Don’t worry. Burg’s not moving in here. I’ll be your new neighbor. I’m Brian by the way.” He extended his hand.
“Rochelle. Nice to meet you.” They shook. His hands told a story of hard work.
He placed his hands inside his blue jean pockets. “It’ll just be me next door. My brother’s just helping me move in. Don’t worry. I’ll keep it down. Promise.” He held up his hands and smiled at her again.
Why did he have to have such a great smile? Rochelle hadn’t paid any attention to a man for around a year. Rochelle cleared her mind and throat. “I’m sorry for overreacting a little bit. It’s just that my baby is taking a nap. I kind of need the rest myself.”
“No problem, I understand. Hey…I better start helping him unload the truck. It was nice meeting you. Please, apologize to your husband for me too. I don’t want any enemies on my first day here.” He gave a light chuckle and backed away.
Rochelle’s expression changed and her face dropped down.
“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?” Brian asked.
She twirled her wedding ring around on her finger and looked down at her toes.
He inched forward, half hunched over, cautious. “I just figured… you were married…” He eyed the sparkling diamond on her left hand. As his eyes returned to her face he realized tears had began to form and fall from her eyes. Droplets of liquid pain streamed out of her ebony eyes and down her flush cheeks.
To be released in 2010...