Page 21 of Pity Parade

HEATH

The song “Rock Lobster” by the B-52’s has been playing on a loop in my head ever since I woke up from my cat nap. The two-hour nap I took on the boat in the middle of the day.

I stopped by the grocery store on my way home to buy a tube of burn ointment as well as a bag of frozen peas to rest on my face. As soon as I get back to the cottage, I lay down on the sofa and apply my home remedy. This is not a very promising way to start my vacation, and if I believed in omens, I might take note.

I fall asleep again, and after my second snooze of the day, I start to feel like I’m finally unwinding. If I can sleep tonight, after all this napping, I’ll be well on my way to settling into this holiday. I toy with the idea of calling Trina and asking her if she wants to come over for dinner, but I don’t want to send her mixed messages. That’s why at suppertime I turn on the grill and cook a steak for one. I take my meal down to the end of the pier to eat while watching the ducks play on the water.

When I come back up, I spot Trina hurrying around the deck next door. She’s putting buckets of citronella candles around to keep the mosquitoes at bay and she’s placing brightly colored throw pillows on the furniture. “Hey, neighbor,” I call out. “Getting ready for some company?”

Her head pops up in a startled fashion. “Oh … um … yeah. Rather, yes, I am.”

“Who do you have coming out?”

“Just a friend,” she says. “But they’re not very social, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to strike up a conversation with them.”

That sounds suspicious. “Why?”

“No reason.” She continues to dart around before coming to a halt. “Daniel has a stutter, and it makes himself conscious.”

“Daniel, is it?” Curious.

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“No.” Yes. “Is he just a friend or is he more than a friend?” I ask.

“How is that any of your business?”

It’s not my business and I shouldn’t have asked, but I still want to know the answer. “He’s going to be my neighbor,” I tell her like this makes us destined for a lifelong bond.

“For a week,” she snaps. “Which is not a long enough time for you to bother with him. You probably won’t even see him.”

“Yes, but what if he shows up at my door asking to borrow a stick of butter or something? You can’t expect me not to talk to him.”

Trina puts her hands on her hips as the wind picks up and blows her hair around her like a swirling dark curtain. She looks like an epic heroine in a superhero movie. Look out, Wonder Woman. “If Daniel shows up at your doorstep, you have my permission to loan him a stick of butter,” she grumpily concedes.

“What if he asks for coffee?” This conversation is getting ridiculous.

She flings her hands out in front of her. “Then give him coffee.”

Nodding my head, I continue, “What if he wants to talk about you?”

“He never has to know we’ve met,” she says sternly.

“But you’re renting the place right next door …”

At that, Trina changes her mind about allowing me to talk to her friend. “You know what? Don’t talk to Daniel. I don’t care if he needs butter or coffee. You are not to speak to him. Do you understand?”

She’s getting really worked up over this and that piques my interest. “I don’t think that would be very neighborly.”

Trina picks up a pillow and punches it like she wishes it were my face. Then she puts it down and strides across her deck toward mine. When she’s within a couple of feet of me, she orders, “Heath Fox. I am not your friend and Daniel is not your friend. Do us both a favor and remember that.”

“Why aren’t you my friend?” I know I’m poking the bear, but darn it, I’m having a good time doing so.

“Why would I be?” she returns. “I’ve met you two times. On the first occasion you barely spoke to me and on the second you talked a lot before telling me you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“First of all, you’ve met me three times. Four times if you include today.” At her blank stare, I tell her, “Twice in Chicago and the fish fry here.” I feel the need to add, “And I never told you I didn’t want anything to do with you. All I said was that I wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship.”

“And I was supposed to translate that into you wanting to be friends?” Yeah, she’s not buying it.

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