The Good Neighbor - Bettes Kimberley A. - Страница 35
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I didn’t know what to do about it. Jacking off wasn’t working. Screwing that broad hadn’t worked. What else was there?
My eyes snapped open as a few thoughts came to me at once. There were other ways. I didn’t necessarily like all of them, but there were other ways to get off. There was pedophilia, necrophilia, bestiality, and homosexuality for starters. I really didn’t fancy screwing dead people or animals. At this point, though, I’d just about try anything. My dick was raw. It was sore and throbbing. Each hard-on hurt more than the one before it. I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could stand. I had to try something.
With butterflies in my stomach, I finished the shower. For the first time in a couple of weeks, my thoughts raced around something other than the broad next door.
I stood in front of the mirror naked. I took a good look at myself and hated what I saw.
Gone was my former self completely now. There was no sign of the man I’d been. Dark, puffy bags hung under my eyes. Lines flew out from the corners of my eyes and around my mouth. The skin under my chin hung down farther than it used to. It had been years since I’d been clean-shaven. It seemed even after I shaved these days, I always had rough stubble. My skin had a yellowish hue to it. And of course, there was the belly. I’d been fit in my old life. No gut hanging over my pants. But it was there now. And there was no one to care about it. I certainly didn’t.
I noticed the hair growing from my nostrils and from my ears. Anyone else would’ve kept those hedges trimmed back, but not me.
As I stared at myself in that dirty mirror, standing in my nasty bathroom upstairs in my filthy house, I realized it was too late. No matter what, it was too late to ever again be the man I was before. I couldn’t go back. This was me now. Gone was the workaholic, the family man. Gone were the days of caring about the nice house, the newest car, and the best clothes. Now that I thought about, I couldn’t even remember that Bernie. The man who got up at four, jogged, went to work, skipped lunch, came home sometimes sixteen hours later, and went to bed only to do it all again the next day. That man seemed to be just someone I had once known, but never me. I would never again be that man.
And who cared?
No one.
I went downstairs, still naked. I grabbed a beer from the fridge and stood by the table drinking it. I didn’t guzzle it as I usually did. I drank it slowly, thinking about how to get rid of this boner.
I finally decided that instead of rushing into something crazy like screwing guys or dead people, I’d try one more time with a broad. If it didn’t work this time, it never would. Then, I’d have to move on to one of the other choices. I wasn’t looking forward to doing that, but I couldn’t go on like this.
I finished the beer and looked down at my dick, which was now fully hard. I couldn’t imagine sticking it in a man. The thought had never appealed to me in my life. I didn’t find that men turned me on. And dead people, well, that was just gross. I liked the way Carla had been afraid. I liked the fear in her eyes. I liked the way she acted like she hated it. I liked the way her muscles tensed under me. And I loved the warmth of her. Dead people couldn’t offer any of these things.
I shook it off. I wouldn’t think of the alternatives until I knew whether or not I had to. I had to think about now, and that meant doing a broad one more time. Just to see if it would rid me of this pesky hard-on. It was driving me insane. I wouldn’t be able to take it much longer. I had to get rid of it. I had to do a bitch and quick.
58 Carla
When a crew of men showed up, I was curious. When they began unloading tools and lumber, I was a little worried.
I went outside to ask them what they were doing, but before I could ask, someone told me. He was a large, deeply tanned man with hair as black as coal. His dark tan made his teeth seem whiter than they were.
He informed me that they worked for Owen’s company. At Owen’s request, they were here to build a fence to separate my yard from Bernie’s. I knew he was doing it to protect me, but it was still a little frustrating. He hadn’t asked me. I reminded myself that he was doing it because he cared. He wanted me safe. Not because he was controlling. He wasn’t my ex-husband.
I decided to take the kids down to Owen’s house since I hadn’t heard from him yet today and things were pretty loud at my house. Erecting an eight-foot fence wasn’t as quiet a job as one would think.
We crossed the street in front of our house so we wouldn’t have to walk in front of Bernie’s. As we stepped up on the sidewalk, I heard someone speak.
I looked up and saw a small woman waving to me. This must be Hazel. Owen had told me about her, but I hadn’t had a chance to meet her yet. She was sitting on the porch, sewing. I couldn’t hear everything she was saying, so I walked closer, taking the kids with me.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you.”
“I said you must be Carla.”
“Oh. Yeah. That’s me. And this is Ethan and Shelby. Are you Hazel?”
“That’s me. Come up here and have a seat.” As we walked up the steps, she asked, “Are you hungry? I’ve got plenty of food in there.”
“No, no. Thanks, but we’re fine. What are you making?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m knitting a baby blanket today.”
“For who?”
“Well, for whoever needs it,” she said. “There’s always someone somewhere having a baby. Do you do any sewing?”
“No. I never knew anyone who could teach me. It looks fun.”
“Oh, it is. Keeps you busy. If you want, I’ll be more than happy to teach you.”
We talked a while longer, and I agreed to learn to sew. It would be nice to have a hobby. Maybe then, I wouldn’t think so much about things that had happened lately.
Hazel really was the sweetest woman I’d ever met. Owen had been right about that. She kept offering us food. She invited us into the house, where she brought out some toys for the kids to play with while we talked.
Her house was exactly what a grandmother’s house should be. It was cozy and felt very comfortable. Things she’d made were everywhere in the room. There was no loud TV noise, only the sound of a ticking clock and the clinking of her knitting needles. I could hear the sound of crayons scraping against paper. At my house, so much quiet might’ve been unnerving, but here, it was welcoming.
I watched in awe as the blanket quickly grew longer and longer. I couldn’t wait to learn.
“Could you teach me now?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t too eager or rude.
“Well, sure.” She grabbed a set of needles and a ball of yarn and sat beside me on the couch. She began teaching me right then. She was amazed at how quickly I was learning.
I sat there for hours with Hazel, talking and knitting without a care in the world.
59 Jill
I looked out the window for a little while, watching the fence go up at Carla’s. I’d been on my way over to her place when I saw her and the kids cross the street and go to Hazel’s. I didn’t want to disturb her visit, so I waited.
While I waited, I thought about my poor Andy. He’d called and told me that his mother had passed away. I wanted to be with him. He needed me. But I was here, without him.
I stretched out on the couch and closed my eyes. I imagined him crying, and it made my heart ache.
I knew what I was going to do. I was so aggravated and upset that I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him yet, but now it seemed as though it was meant to be.
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