By C. Cavanaugh
She was ex-military. Retired prison guard. Truth told, I can’t say I much liked her. I mean, she was a pretty good neighbor. And I tried to be the same. I just was generally wary of her, that way she’d say something cutting and smirking at the same time. Clean out of the blue.
She had a mild look about her, real sturdy shoulders and trim legs. Damn shapely. Every spring, she’d paint the exterior of her 1,800 sq. ft. doublewide. One side per year. Fixed her own plumbing. Hooked up the irrigation system in her yard. Did it all herself.. Her pup, name of Juji, came from the shelter. Little thing – about 11 lbs. Energizer-bunny type dog.
Cooper’d get laser-focused on yard sales. At this one, we seen a couple derelict garden benches and I helped cart ‘em back to her place. She fixed ‘em up, and set‘em out on her porch landing. Benz, my papillon, and I’d gather there with fellow dog walkers many a morning. Never knew if Cooper’d meet you with a smart aleck joke or a bit of smile and a frugal but sincere greeting. A damn generous pension and veteran’s benefits probably softened her prickly edges. Did not get rid of ‘em. No ma’am.
This one summer, I met her son on one of his rare visits. He’s got a tight smile. Real damn touchy. On the caustic side, you might say. Family legacy, maybe. He’d drive his electric vehicle down from his place in this nearby mountain town. Wasn’t much of a listener, but he’d go on and on about his solarized cabin. Installed an elevator, of all things. Said it was so he could bring groceries and such up to his second-floor office and kitchen.
Cooper acted particularly cautious around him. Deferred to him too damn often as far as I was concerned. I found it taxing to be in the company of the two of ‘em for long.
Well, Cooper got a diagnosis of early-onset dementia, had a few slip-and-falls, and got talked into moving up the hill to her son’s place. The morning before she left, I went over. She opened the door wearing a purely sweet smile. She seemed damn delighted to see me which was real pleasant, but peculiar. We set in her front room for a while and talked. She leaned over close to me and whispered that someone had been in her house the night before. Said she woke up and found people in her living room. Made me promise not to tell anyone. I whispered back that I’d keep it to myself. And I did. I guess it don’t much matter anymore..
She and her dog ended up movin’ into an assisted living outfit after a short time with the son. When she got transferred to the memory section, Juji couldn’t go with her. The dog got bounced around to various and sundry family members before her son called and asked if I’d take her.
After a couple of years, I heard from the son that she had passed. I got that strike of silence, you know? Comes when you get that kinda news? No, we weren’t exactly friends, but I suppose some neighbors carry more weight than others. Lost my Benz right around that time too. Cancer.
Little Juji’s still with me. We go by her old home on our morning walks. She’d slow up there at first, but not so much now. She’s a wiggly, alert, pint-size creature prone to getting damn hostile with any cat even thinking about crossing our road. But she does okay. Been a good dog.
Been thinking lately. About everything, you know? Wondering if maybe I wasn’t a little hard-hearted in my judgment. Day before yesterday, Juji and I are making our rounds. We’re coming up on the house and I recall this one time I showed Cooper a notice I’d spotted at the senior center. About a memoir-writing class startin’ up. We’re sittin’ on the benches with the dogs, lookin’ out over the desert and mountains. She turns to me, frowns hard, then damn well scoffs, “Who wants to write about what you’re trying to forget?”
Yep, exactly what she said. I kept quiet at the time. Didn’t say a thing. Now, I’m wonderin’ if maybe I should have. Said something, ya know? Just to let her know, yeah? That I heard it. That I took it in.
C. Cavanaugh lives and writes in the southern California desert area. She has work published and forthcoming online at Flash Fiction Magazine and Witcraft.org among other publications.
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