I Love You, My Neighbour: Chapter 10
What are you sorry for?
Logan
Kristy turns from the windows she's been staring out of as soon as she hears me enter the lounge room. "It looks really dark out there now."
"We'll be all right," I shrug.
I may not be into MMA like Kyle, but I know how to defend myself. She'll be safe with me. "Let's go."
She nods, taking Cricket's leash in hand and opening the front door. I follow her, and we start walking up the hill in the opposite direction from where I'm used to seeing her come. Initially, I felt good about my decision to come along. However, with every passing minute of silence, I start feeling more and more uncomfortable. Maybe I shouldn't have been so eager to be neighbourly. I can't remember the last time I felt this awkward.
"How's work?" I finally ask, unable to bear the silence any longer.
"It's good, fine, okay, I guess."
Raising an eyebrow, I say, "I'm confused about which answer I should take."
"Sorry. Jacquie, the owner, has just hired her niece to start working part-time. I think she expects me to give up a few of my shifts so her niece can have more hours."
"Can she do that?"
Kristy shrugs. "It's her café. She can do what she wants. I don't have a contract there; we've always just discussed my working days."
"Shit. Can you talk to her about it? Change her mind?"
"I talked to her about it today. She says I need a break, but I'm fine."
"Then why would she think you need a break?"
She glares at me, and I quickly raise my hands to let her know I'm not taking Jacquie's side—I'm just curious.
"I've been working every day for the last six months, and yes, I'll admit I'm a bit tired. Jacquie says this will help me with work-life balance, but I didn't ask to lose a day or two. It's not like I'm sleeping on the job." Then she murmurs, "Most of the time, anyway."
Guilt pricks at my conscience. Is it my fault she's falling asleep at work? She blamed me and the work I'm doing on the house for keeping her awake.
I never intended to annoy my neighbour with noise. I didn't know I would be moving in next to someone who keeps the hours Kristy does.
"I'm sorry," the words escape my mouth before I can really think about it. "I'm sorry you can't take your nap because I'm working on the house."
Her smile is small but conciliatory. "That's okay. As neighbours go, you could be a lot worse."
"Thanks, I think. Can you manage without the extra days at the café?" I ask.
It sounds like she could use a break. I know what it's like to work and keep working. I haven't taken a break since Izzy passed away. But that's my choice, something I do because I need the distraction. If I didn't need to keep my mind busy, working without any breaks would be exhausting.
"I can. I just don't know what I'm supposed to do with the time off. I'm so used to working every day."
Looking down at Cricket, I say the first thing that comes to mind. "You could walk Cricket in the morning instead of at night when it's dark."
"Mmm. Maybe."
"Tell me the story of how you ended up with Cricket," I say, hoping to keep her talking.
"Ah, there's not much of a story to tell." She's quiet for a moment before continuing. "I got on the scales one day and flipped out when I saw the number. I really shouldn't have been surprised, though. I've slacked off on exercise, ate too many muffins, and had too much cake."
"Can't blame you for that. Thanks again for the muffins you brought on Sunday, by the way. I know I told you that you didn’t need to thank me, but feel free to thank me for anything, anytime."
She smiles at me. Her long, dark, curly hair hangs loose today, partially covering her face. My fingers twitch with the urge to push it aside, just to see her better.
"You did me a favour by taking them off my hands. I often take them down to the Brotherhood of St Laurence, but they don't like receiving them every day. Too much sugar for the homeless, apparently. Anyway, I hate wasting food, so that leaves me with a lot to eat when I don't have anyone to give them to."
"Next time you need to unload them, just send them my way. I'll happily take them off your hands."
"Okay. That will certainly help me exercise some control."
"Anytime."
We smile at each other for a moment, but my smile quickly turns to a frown when Kristy turns into a large park. "Do you normally go through here?"
"Yes, why?"
There are large trees and bushes everywhere. In other words, plenty of places for troublemakers to hide.
"No reason," I say.
I dislike the idea of her walking through here late at night. I'd dislike it if any woman were to walk through here at night. It invites trouble, like those teenagers who go to graveyards or deserted towns in horror movies. I always roll my eyes at their stupidity, but what I really want to do is yell at them to not be so idiotic.
"It's not normally this dark," Kristy says, looking around.
Well, that's something, I guess.
"So, anyway, going back to the question you asked about Cricket," she continues. "Jess, my housemate, was about to go away at the time."
"To Italy, right?"
"Yeah. She and I visited her aunt before she left, and she was talking about how she'd just bought a newer, smaller unit in a retirement village and didn't think she'd have enough room for the dog. When I mentioned I'd always wanted a dog, she offered him to me. I thought I was getting a bargain—protection and motivation to exercise. She did warn me that Cricket wasn't really a guard dog, but I didn't pay much attention at the time. I was so excited; I figured any problems I had I'd sort out quickly enough. I’d always wanted a dog, and it seemed like in was finally the right time for one."
"You never had a dog while growing up?"
She shakes her head. "My parents are the type of people who value cleanliness and orderliness above everything else. They think animals are too messy. Even I was too messy for them most of the time, even when I did my best to clean up after myself."
"They would have hated me as a child, then."
"You were a messy kid?"
"The devil, I'm told."
She laughs softly, making me smile. "Not a lazy tradie for a neighbour, huh? Just the devil."
"I've never grown horns. And my mum has forgiven me for all the grief I gave her when I was a kid. Though she's looking forward to having grandchildren that will pay me back."
There won't be grandchildren now, though. Not with Izzy gone. Despite my fitness level, my chest tightens, and I struggle to draw breath as we walk up the slight incline in the park. I've lost so damn much. Not just what I had with a woman who brought me to my knees, but the future I craved and looked forward to.
Kristy suddenly stops and looks at me. "I'm so sorry, Logan."
My first instinct is to deny that anything's wrong, but her gaze stops me. Pity is brewing in her blue eyes, and as she bites her lip and looks away with a pained expression, I'm almost certain she knows about Izzy. I've seen that look of awkwardness when people realize I'm grieving so many times before. They don't know how to deal with my grief. They don't know what to say, or they say the wrong thing.
I just don't understand how she could know. Did she figure it out from our brief conversation last Friday when she asked me if I had a dog? Or did something else tip her off?
"What are you sorry for, exactly?"
She sighs, looking down at the ground and then up at me again. "When I put the muffins in your kitchen, I saw the photo on the bench. Normally, I'm not so nosy, but the dog in the picture looked just like Cricket. I picked up the photo before I realized what an invasion of privacy it was."
So she saw Buster and Izzy. She must have assumed something happened to Izzy because of what I said about the dog. "So, you put two and two together?"
"Something like that," she mutters. "When Kyle took the photo from me, he mentioned the..."
She swallows, as though she can't bring herself to say it.
"The accident," I finish.
She nods, and I feel exposed and caught off guard. Kyle never said anything to me about Kristy seeing the picture. This whole situation might have felt less awkward if he had.
I want to leave her here. Walk away. Carrying this pain around with me all the time is hard enough, and having yet another person suddenly aware of it makes me feel like the grief is closing in on me again.
But how can I walk away when I'm the one who suggested we walk together? When I asked if I could join her? And I had good reasons for doing so. It's dark, and leaving her alone here won't make her unaware of Izzy or erase the pity in her eyes. What's done is done.
"Come on," I say. "Let's keep moving."
"Logan," she says, reaching out and putting her hand on my arm to stop me. "I really didn't mean to pry. I'm sorry I found out the way I did. If I could take it back, I would."
"Forget it." I step away from her so she can't touch me. "Let's just go home."
Her head drops, and she trudges beside me as we walk in painful silence toward our houses. She obviously feels bad, but I can't find it in me to tell her that she shouldn't. Maybe it should be a relief that she knows, but it isn't. The times before now when I've talked to Kristy, I haven't felt like the guy with the dead fiancée. We were just two neighbours having a chat. Once we moved past our initial impressions, anyway. Now, though, she'll forever see me as someone who is broken.
And maybe I am broken, but I don't want Kristy to think of me that way. Not that I care too much about what she thinks of me—we're just neighbours. But since we'll be living next to each other for God knows how long, what are the chances she won't look at me with pity in her eyes every time she realizes I'm thinking about Izzy?
I wondered if she was avoiding me and dismissed the idea as absurd. Now it seems more likely I was right. Suddenly she finds out about Izzy, and I don't see her for four days? She doesn't know how to talk to me anymore, not now that she feels sorry for me.
When we arrive home, Kristy glances at me briefly. "I'll be going then. Thanks for walking with me. Sorry... well, sorry it probably wasn't at a speed that suited you. Cricket, come."
To my surprise, Cricket starts walking away with Kristy without any protest.
"Kristy," I say, putting my hand on her arm briefly to stop her. "Maybe think twice before walking alone after dark. It's foolish and dangerous, and I never thought of you as stupid."
Her eyes widen, and her jaw drops for a second before blue fire flashes in her eyes beneath the streetlamp. "Did you just call me stupid?"
She's pissed off at me again, and maybe I should apologize and backtrack. We've been getting along well enough these past couple of weeks, and if I keep talking, I'll probably undo all the effort we've both put in. But right now, I don't care. I'm suddenly itching for a fight with my neighbour. Maybe because I'd rather see her pissed off at me than see pity and sadness in her eyes. I'd rather be a jerk than the guy with the dead fiancée right now.
"If the shoe fits," I shrug. "Every day, the headlines are full of news about women who run into trouble because they put themselves in dangerous situations."
She crosses her arms, but then uncrosses them and takes a step back when she realizes she's still holding Cricket's leash. "So that's the real reason you wanted to walk with me today, isn't it? You thought you were doing your stupid neighbour a favour by guarding me from potential rapists and murderers. Well, I hope you feel good about your noble deed, Mr... Mr. Macho," she spits.
She storms off, and Cricket goes with her willingly for once. Even the dog knows I'm being a jerk tonight.
On the front doorstep of her house, Kristy lets herself in with her key, but not before she turns around and throws one final glare over her shoulder at me.
As soon as the door closes behind her, I let out a laugh I didn't realise I was holding onto.
Ridiculously, I feel as if the natural order of the universe has been restored after our argument. It's not like I want Kristy to hate me, and I don't want us to go back to avoiding each other. I just needed her to know I'm the same guy I was before she found out about Izzy. I'm still the man who irritated the hell out of her when we first met.
And she does have a temper—a temper I kind of like, if I'm honest. Maybe that makes me an arsehole, but pissing her off the times I have made me happier than anything else has in two years. Go figure.
I should probably make time during my lunch break tomorrow to go to the café and make amends. I'm salivating again just thinking about buying more of her baking. Hopefully, Kristy will look at me without pity in her eyes. I'll apologize for being a jerk, and our neighbourly relationship will be back on track.
After all, there's no point in permanently depriving myself of her sweet, sweet muffins if I don't have to, right?