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Suburbia
By
Camincha
Tapping the glass of wine against his chest Bob continued nervously: Maybe we should just let him die. To kill him would be an act of kindness.
Defiantly, bracing himself, Bob stared into his wife’s eyes. I wonder, what's worse...? he asked. And glass in hand started to pace the floor.
Tension filled the room. Marina wasn't sure who he was talking about. In a flash she remembered their telephone conversation. Is he talking about himself? she murmured. No one paid her any attention. They were staring at him.
Bob continued....
Louise gasped.
Marina tried to say something. Something she had tried to say before. Dick's mouth dropped. Louise stared into space, frozen. The color drained from her
face.
***
HE WAS CRYING again. Marina had heard him before. But never like this. This time he was howling, long lasting howls. His heart was breaking. It was a cry for help like she hadn't heard in a long time.
He cried so loud, so loud, so loud she started crying with him. Helplessness circled her round and round like a hungry wolf. Tried to get away by going into her office at the back. It was time to get to work anyway. Turn on the computer.
She closed doors, windows.
She could still hear him. His crying filled the block, the street, the neighborhood, penetrated the house in waves that came louder at moments. There was no escaping it.
Marina tried to work, but couldn't, just couldn't keep her mind on it. She had to do something to answer his cry for help.
Got up from her desk and in big strides reached the kitchen, grabbed a small paper bag and filled it with their cat Domino's favorite food. She wasn't thinking anymore,
what will the neighbors think? People around here all live in their own little worlds. Not mixing. Looking the other way when they pass each other. I don't even know his owners. None mattered.
She knew he wasn't crying from hunger‹he only cried whenever he heard his owners drive away‹but it was her way, the only way she could think to approach him, show him she cared. Maybe get him to stop crying.
***
THE COUPLE HAD moved across the street only a few weeks ago. And Marina and Dick always knew when their neighbors left in the morning because it was then their dog would start whining, moaning, crying.
Dick, if he was home, knowing she had her ear tuned to the commotion across the street, would turn on the radio or put on a
tape, her favorite Pavarotti concert, to distract her. Marina appreciated his thoughtfulness, but felt guilty making conversation while they had their breakfast, ignoring the animal's suffering, trying not to show concern.
By the time they left together, or she went down to the driveway to give him a goodbye kiss on days when she worked at home, the whining, moaning, crying would have subsided some. By midmorning the neighborhood would be almost back to its usual quietude. She could hardly hear him anymore. She wondered, did he go to sleep tired out from crying, like a baby?
***
NO SOONER DID she cross the street that he came to the elegant gate of polished black wrought iron with gold relief, his eyes popping out of their sockets, his ears flopping from the intensity of his breathing, wagging his tail. He was a big dog. A greyhound. Marina sat on the sidewalk, poured out the cat's food.
He was quick to show her his appreciation. Like a baby, howling one moment - sometimes they haven't even shed a tear - smiling the next, she murmured relieved, almost laughing. Out of politeness - she was sure of it - he brought his long muzzle under the gate, stretched out his large tongue as far as he could and licked the morsels from the ground. She was grateful that he responded so willingly, that thankful for a human presence, he had stopped crying.
She talked to him, soothing him. Put her hands through the metal bars in the gate and caressed the top of his head, the tip of his floppy ears, his paws, whatever part she could reach.
She understood his pain. Marina knew what it was like to feel a prisoner. The painful divorce, the years of the break-up. Her parents suffering. Her ex-husband's handsome face materialized in front of her, dark and menacing as when he fancied himself displeased. She remembered the pain of those days suffocating her till she cried out.
There was no padlock on the gate. She thought of letting him out, taking him home with her, keeping him by her side till his owners came home. But looking at him, accepted her limitations - he is enormous -he is a bundle of nerves, I don't have a leash, if he gets away from me I'll never catch up with him. Good judgment prevailed. She talked to him, explained the situation.
He sat and listened. Cocking his head to one side, his golden, wine-colored eyes looked straight into hers. He was saying: Thank you, you have eased my pain, I was lonely, you came to me. I feel much better now. You have done all you could, I understand you have to go. Thank you.
***
SHE WROTE A polite note to her neighbors:
This is not a complaint. Just want to tell you. Maybe you don't know, your dog cries from loneliness. Your neighbor at 420, across the street. # 333 0201.
Marina
The response came back polite also, from the beautiful house: 5 bedrooms,5 1/2 baths,3 garages overflowing with 2 motorcycles, a Jaguar, a BMW a Cad, an Acura and two mint condition 60's Mustangs plus innumerable other gadgets the two executives worked 12 hours a day to pay for. Sometimes longer if there were business trips. Marina and Dick had seen the procession of moving trucks unload.
The man on the phone told Marina: Thank you. My name is Bob, I’m your neighbor. My wife and I, we... It was very nice of you.... Yeah, yeah, he's kind of a baby, isn't adjusting very well to the new house. We moved from a busy neighborhood in the City, neighbors on every side of us, children who petted him, talked to him. We wanted peace and quiet in an exclusive area.... He misses....
Marina felt she detected a longing in the man's voice. Is he talking about himself or the dog? she wondered and was going to remember later the tone in his voice.
They talked a while and coming back to the subject of their dog Bob told Marina, we bought him on a whim, going way over... you can't imagine what he cost us, he laughed nervously. We named him Amadeus. His voice became soft, low, we can't stay and babysit him. We have to work.... Sighing, the mortgage on this... is enormous.
She did remember later the tone in his voice. It made her think, this is a very lonely man. Sharing his concerns, with a perfect stranger. He mustn't have anyone to talk to... His wife? It definitely doesn't seem…It can't be a healthy relationship...This man is bursting at the seams. She was about to say that she was sorry things were so bad. No. She was about to say... something momentous from Dr. Dyer's, or Unity Church teachings. She was digging into her mental files, getting it all mixed up with her own emotions: Dick. Dick came to mind. A careful spender: instead of buying one of the expensive houses had opted for a model he could well afford. In a couple of seconds her mind reviewed their comfortable life. They had been to Europe, and had their weekend retreats mental-health-insurance, that's what they called them, to their mountain cabin in Tahoe. Skiing in the winter, trails, bird watching, swimming in the summer....
But before she could put her thoughts in order, Bob spoke in a low, even tone again and startled her into silence, and you? Your... is that your husband?
No. My boyfriend, he bought this house a while back. I moved in with him two years ago. Work at home a lot of the time... I'm an independent contractor.
Oh! that's why....
Yes.
***
A FEW DAYS later Marina in the driveway coming out of her car, looked up in answer to insistent honking and faced a young, hard-looking-face, black hair held back in a tight knot. It was Amadeus' mistress. Hello! the woman said and managed to smile.
Marina pushed a few strands of her long auburn hair away from her face and with a warm smile walked to the car's open window.
My name is Louise. You are Marina, Bob told me. Come visit us sometime. No, Let's set a day now. How about this Friday? Would you? You and - with her hand she gestured toward the house - you and...
Marina smiled, Dick...
Yes, your boyfriend.
***
THE TWO COUPLES engaged in conversation in front of the panoramic view that the living room picture-window offered of the hills, the ocean, the town’s lights down below. This is what sold us, Bob smiled.
The evening was going smoothly. Delicious hors d’ouvres.
The conversation was of computers, stocks, skiing, swimming, making fun of politicians and pompous radio-show-hosts.
The wine was an excellent Cabernet Sauvignon. Richard was on his second glass, as was Louise. Marina liked to sip from one all evening. Specially wine like this. But Bob... ? he was at least on his sixth, and going strong.
Then…Bob burst out loud, out of the blue, maybe we should just let him die. To kill him would be an act of kindness. Next pleading, what if we gave him a little companion!?
Marina and Dick had exchanged surprised looks. But Louise, knew exactly what it was all about. She interrupted him shouting, no. No. NO. I don't want anymore responsibilities. We are about to lose the gardener. He complains that Amadeus is digging all over the yard. And another animal! You, you... and sent a furious look in the direction of her husband who blushed a dark crimson. His face distorted. His eyes filled with tears.
***
MAYBE IT WAS, he had drank too much, do you think... ? Marina said to Dick, cuddling in his arms after they were safely tucked in bed.
Copyright © 2004 Camincha
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