Wednesday, May 03, 2006

The girls next door

I saw her writhing out of the BMW, a to-go box held like a tray of wine glasses in one hand. Shiny dark hair switching over her shoulders. She wore sweats that were only a thin gesture toward exercise wear; soft material draped over her curves, tiny top showing bellybutton, and, as she turned toward her front door, the word "juicy" arcing over her peachy ass.

They all drive BMWs, all prefer to park cockeyed in the driveway, all looking like dolls with interchangable heads: blond, brunette, auburn. It's impossible to tell how many of them share the basement apartment. It could be one, it could be fifteen, all crowded in together, fifteen pairs of mascaraed eyes blinking slowly open, closed.

There are boyfriends, too. I don't see seduction or handholding, but last month voices scratched up and down the street, hers accusing, his defending. I couldn't help peeking out my window, screened by the curtain, in time to see him stomping away from her door, and - as if with sudden inspiration - heaving her garbage can across the path, blocking her way.

Another night I was dragged from sleep by fighting. It might have been the same two; one or the other - or both - may have been different. The boyfriends as identical as the girls, vicious white boys in short hair and polo shirts. This time her voice whined between sobs, piping high above the empty road. His answer citing the eight hours of hard work he does every day, he doesn't need to come home to this.

Like the mute button was pushed, her sobbing stopped, cut off. I peeked through the blinds to see her white brow slowly grow furrows in the streetlight.

"But, what am I supposed to do?" she said at last, in a clear, matter-of-fact voice.

With that question, my dear, neither he, nor I - your eavesdropping neighbor - can help.

4 comments:

jason evans said...

I see that you have season passes to the Human Zoo. Enjoy. Remember not to put your hands into the cages.

Caryn said...

"What am I supposed to do?" I hope she figured it out soon enough. Never good count on a guy who's leaving. Never good not not know what you're doing without your boyfriend. Without a long-time husband, maybe.

I loved your descriptions. Very apt. Those women look so perfect, but they aren't, and their lives aren't.

Anonymous said...

Maqroll likes this very much. No good peaches on this rock. He also arrives on Monday. Steamer will dock early. Customs.
And he will be hungry.

Much news too. Maqroll reading Maimonides and Muldoon. Maqroll, Monday, Maimonides, Muldoon...and (sigh) money.

Chemical Billy said...

Jason, I only realized after posting I'd left out all the most purple, most atrocious bits of the story.

Caryn, how can I resist such a wealth of material?

Maqroll, always a pleasure when you dock. I look forward to your next landing.