“Here you go, Sam.” Katie hands me a cold beer with a warm smile on her face. Scoot wins. I don't want him snooping, so this means I have to visit him and assure him I am a perfectly functioning member of society.
“Thanks,” I say with a smile. I lean back on the porch swing as Scoot takes his beer from his wife's hand. Katie's alright in my book. She tries really hard to get me to like her, but she doesn't understand I don't really like people. So the fact that I don't despise her, well she's reached her limit with me. “Dinner was g-great.”
“My pleasure. I'll be right back.”
She leaves me and Scoot on the porch to enjoy our drinks. “See? This isn't so bad is it?” he asks.
“Never ssssaid it was.”
“You sound a lot better than the last time I saw you.”
That's because today you didn't ambush me shortly after an unplanned kidnapping.
I shrug. Whenever anyone calls attention to my stammer, even to compliment a lack thereof, it gets worse. He and my dad never seemed to have understood that very simple concept.
Across the street, a woman comes out onto her lawn with tiny shorts and a green tube top. She's not wearing a bra and her nipples shoot right through the fabric.
“Yeah,” Scoot sighs. She just moved in a few weeks ago. God bless America.”
“She m-married?” I ask. It's a force of habit, wanting to know every little fact about people. Storing it into my mental database to come back to later in the event I'd like to pay a late-night visit.
“You interested?” he asks, surprisingly.
“No. Just don't want her husband to k-k-k-kick our asss-es.”
Scoot lets out a hearty laugh. “You gotta use the technique you know, pretend to be looking at the bushes on her lawn, or admiring the kids playing on the street in front of her. Check her out on your periphery.” He nudges me with the hand that's holding his beer.
Ha, he thinks he can offer me tips on watching people.
Yeah, she's hot for a woman in her forties. She knows it. She's probably always been hot and fed off of that attention. She knows we're watching. She's the kind of woman who likes that. She bends with her ass out a little extra. She sticks out her chest. I like to watch the one who really doesn’t notice. Who smiles about a pleasant thought that crosses her mind. Who doesn’t know the strap of her tank has fallen off her shoulder. Who undresses in front of the mirror and examines her flawless body looking for faults only she can see. Even the modest ones though, in public, they know on some level they're being watched. It's why I do what I do, to get rid of that extra layer of self-consciousness between us. The most intimate way two people can be together is when one doesn't know the other is watching.
Suddenly, the neighbor looks up, Scoot and I both expertly pretend we weren't just discussing her.
“Hey!” She waves. Her eyes move to me, she puts down her watering can and makes a beeline across the street. Fuck. No. Fuck.
I tense up dramatically. Scoot notices. “It's cool man. Relax. She's nice.”
Don't tell me to relax. I can't fucking relax. It's never fucking worked and yet he's always putting me in these impossible positions.
“Heeey! How are you?” she asks Scoot.
“Good, Milly. Getting some gardening done?”
“Yeah, thought I'd do so before your party starts tonight.”
Party?
Scoot looks over at me sheepishly. “Well, it's not a party, just a little thing in the backyard…” he dismisses.
“And who is this, fella?” She runs her finger up and down in my direction, oozing with overdone sexuality.
“Oh, this is my brother, Sam.”
“Nice to meet you, Sam,” she says, putting out a limp hand for me to take, like she's a lady. I nod and give it a gentle shake.
“Do you live around here?” she asks.
My throat clenches, a bead of sweat rolls down my temple. I don't have a way out of this.
“Y-y-y-y-y-yes.”
Her smile drops a bit and she tilts her head. “Ooooh that's nice.” I can see in her eyes; she's trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with me. She's thinking I'm a retard. Just like all the kids used to call me.
“I just moved in from Savannah, Georgia, just a few weeks ago. It's been a big move,” she transitions smoothly.
“Milly is getting a fresh start here,” Scoot adds.
“Divorce,” Milly confirms, wagging her tongue and pretending to tug on an invisible noose around her neck. “They say California is where you want to come to start over.”
“Everyone's flocking here,” Scoot replies, guiding the conversation for me. “Our family though, we're originals. Back generations, been here almost as long as this state has.”
I nod to maintain some modicum of participation in the conversation.
“Scoot!” Katie calls from the house. “Can I borrow you for a sec?”
“I'll be right back,” he calls tensely, knowing that I would rather be set on fire than continue this conversation alone.
Milly eases herself against a wooden support, waiting for me to say something else. But I can't. It'll only get worse.