Page 43 of Her Alien Neighbor

I nod, holding back the many questions I have about the shift in his mood.

Axil leaves, and Zev and I head outside, going around the right side of the house, past the garage, and down a small hill to where the garden is. A thin layer of snow covers the garden with dead fallen leaves trapped in the pile and peeking out. I wish I could see the garden in the summer when her plants and flowers are in full bloom. Though, the way it is now certainly matches the tone of what we’re doing.

We sit on the bench swing as Zev reads a letter he wrote to my aunt, thanking her for being such a thoughtful neighbor and a loyal friend. He thanks her for introducing him to coleslaw, which seems an odd thing for a grown man to never have tasted before, but I brush it off. Overall, the letter is incredibly sweet.

I didn’t realize how close each of the brothers were to Aunt Franny. But when Zev’s voice begins to crack with emotion at the end, I find myself impressed and even a little jealous that Aunt Franny, a sassy woman in her seventies, was able to become besties with all her extremely handsome neighbors.

Zev gives me a hug after he spreads some of her ashes beneath the bench swing, and says he has to head to work. Axil reemerges from the path between our houses a few minutes after with a soft smile tugging at his lips. I brush away the urge to analyze the possible reasons for the smile and who he needed to call so urgently because it’s none of my business. He could be sleeping with other people and that would be fine with me. Perfectly fine. Not at all irritating. Not at all.

Axil takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips and all thoughts leave my head. “What do you say,” he kisses my knuckles, then takes the tip of my pointer finger into his mouth and nips, “we look for your next clue?”

“Uh, yeah,” I mumble, breathless.

“Yeah?” he repeats, taking my middle finger into his mouth and giving it a flick of his tongue.

“Yes,” I reply, clearing my throat, trying to break free of his spell. “That sounds like a great plan.”

He chuckles, noticing his effect on me, and nods toward the house before pulling me along by the hand.

“She said the next letter was somewhere in the bedroom,” I tell him once we get inside. “I’ve looked around but…” I shrug, “nothing.” We kick our shoes off by the door, and before I turn to face him, he has his arms wrapped around me, my back against his chest. His hands roam my breasts and stomach as he kisses just beneath my ear.

“I missed you,” he whispers, palming my breast.

“Mmm,” I moan as he squeezes it. “You were gone for what, ten minutes?”

He grunts. “I do not care. Any amount of time spent away from you, not touching you, is wasted.”

I can’t argue his logic. I’m growing addicted to his touch, and I certainly don’t mind being on the receiving end of his affections. My last few relationships were not great. They lacked emotional intimacy and loving touches. But with Axil, every touch is loving. I can feel it.

Turning in his arms, I wrap my hands behind his neck and pull him down for a kiss. “I thought we were going to look for clues,” I mutter against his lips.

He growls in response. “Fine.” Then he sighs. “I suppose we should.” Axil looks around the dining room, then down at me. “This house deserves to be cared for.”

We go into the bedroom, and he starts searching the closet as I continue with the dresser drawers. After that yields no results, I decide to check under the bed. I sneeze as I lie on my side, noticing all the dust beneath. As I reach for a plastic storage container, Axil yells, “Found it!”

He tosses the paperback book it was hidden in aside and helps me to my feet. I tear open the letter and see “WHAT” written across the top. “It’s a clue!” I shout, doing a triumphant hop in place.

My Dearest Vanessa,

In my black velvet jewelry box, you will find my engagement ring in the top compartment on the left in a royal blue ring box. Keep it, it’s yours. Or sell it. I don’t care what you do with it, honestly.

Can I let you in on a little secret? It’s not my favorite piece of jewelry. My most prized possession is the ruby necklace with black diamonds on the thin white gold chain. That can be found on the bottom level of the same jewelry box in the gray drawstring jewelry bag.

I must insist you keep this piece, and I would be oh so delighted if you would wear it, as it holds a special memory from my past. Not long after we married, Victor and I got into a terrible argument. He was spending too much of our money on things we didn’t need. Specifically, things I didn’t need. He would come home from work every day with flowers, perfume, jewelry, or a pretty dress for me, and I kept telling him to stop.

We were saving for a house, as we lived in a small apartment at the time, and I had not asked for any of these gifts. When I would tell him to stop, and we needed to be more mindful about how our money was spent, he would brush it off with, “I make good money, and I want to spend it on my wife.”

This may sound sweet to you, and I found it romantic as well, at first. However, we had goals we couldn’t reach, goals we both thought were important, and his spending was setting us back. It frustrated me to no end. I was not working at the time (few wives did, it was a different era), so there was nothing I could do to help.

I refused to speak to Victor for two days after he brought home a stunning pair of leather gloves. That’s how angry I was. He tried begging me, he brought home more flowers, and he attempted to bake a cake for me (and almost burned the apartment down). On the third day, Victor came home with a gift for me to open, and I threw a book at his head and walked out.

He ran after me and got down on his knees on the sidewalk and said, “I returned every gift I could to get you this. No new money has been spent in order to buy this necklace, and I wanted to show you that I am listening. I don’t know how to love you the way you deserve to be loved without showering you with gifts. But I know we can’t afford for me to keep doing this, and I want a house just as badly as you do.”

My arms were crossed as he spoke, loving the sweet words, but skeptical about how serious he was.

Then he said, “Please, let me show you I can be the kind of man worthy of your love.”

He promised to curb his spending, and stick to a budget, and from that day forward, he made good on his promise.

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