Neighbors

1.

Tommy and Becka had gone to school and I was enjoying some quiet breakfast with Melanie, toast and jam, eggs, and coffee. I was reading something on the tablet while chewing slowly, each bite needs 36 times. Melanie was up and about, putting dishes in the washer, watering the plants, etc.

”Look,” she said from the window, “There’s someone moving in, I can see the truck downstairs. They’re carrying all this furniture in, and boxes. Should we welcome them?"

"Nah, they probably want privacy. People downtown are not the same as in the suburbs, Mel."

"Right,” she nodded. “What are you reading?"

"Another ban on video games, this time it’s because of racism. Apparently, they-"

"It’s about Tommy,” she cut me off, “His teacher called me at work yesterday. He’s been in a fight."

"Oh, boy,” I put the tablet down, “Did he get beat up?"

"No, he actually beat up two other kids."

"So unlike me,” I said, “I always got the shit kicked out of me. What was the fight about?"

"Some kids were making fun of his gym clothes. Saying his shorts are too short."

"And he blew up over that?"

"The teacher told me how it went down,” said Melanie, “Apparently, they were calling him gay. They were saying the f word and suggesting he was trying to make them horny with the short shorts and that it was not gonna work on them. He lashed out and attacked a group of five boys. He put two down and the rest took off."

"Put two down?"

"The teacher’s words,” said Melanie. “She said it was like he was Jason Bourne."

"Well, I think it’s kind of cool,” I said, “I wonder where he learned the moves."

"Tom, that’s nothing to be proud of. Violence is not the answer.”

I nodded. “Agreed. But what should he have done? This really provoked him, so maybe there is a hidden reason. Like, I don’t know, but it might be serious."

"You should talk to him."

"Me? Why me?"

"Because. You’re a man too. You’ve always had a good relationship with him. He listens to you."

"Yeah, you’re right."

"Anyway, I have to go to work.” She was putting her jacket on, grabbing the purse as she put her arm through the sleeve to save time. “Have a good day, honey. And don’t work too hard."

"I won’t,” I said and she slammed the door behind her.

2.

Something woke me up in the middle of the night. Windows cast translucent orange shapes onto the wall which made me think of the empty streets below. It was quiet. I could tell Melanie was not sleeping.

”Mel, are you asleep?” I said.

”Nah, did you hear that?"

"Hear what? Something woke me up, not sure what."

"It was like a whistle, or a scream.” We could sort of hear a piercing shriek for a couple seconds. “There it is again,” she said, “You did hear it, didn’t you?"

"Yeah, I’ve been hearing it throughout the day. I think it’s the new neighbors that just moved in."

"What?"

"Yeah, I’d never heard it before, so it’s gotta be them."

"Huh,” she said.

”It’s not that bad. I think they’re two floors down. Or up. I can’t tell."

"Did you talk to Tommy?” she asked.

”Not yet."

"Well?"

"I’m gonna. Soon. I promise."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow. I promise."

"Okay.”

In the street below, I heard police sirens, but they passed us by.

3.

I was in the lobby, picking up the mail. Some bills and a check from my publisher. I opened the envelope, it was not much, not worth mentioning really. Mr. Kazadoukis walked in from the street with his usual grim look.

”Morning,” I said, smiling.

”Morning,” he said, tipping his hat the old-fashioned way. “Are they screaming again?"

"To be honest, I think I’m getting used to it,” I said, “I don’t even notice anymore.”

Mr. K. shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe we have neighbors like that. I just can’t believe it."

"Neighbors like what?” I asked.

”Never mind. How is your son? How’s Tom Jr.?"

"Tommy’s fine,” I said. “He’s been doing well at school. We would like to send him to theater camp for the summer."

"Don’t you think he’s had enough of that kind of thing already?"

"What do you mean by that?” I asked, a little angry, but not really meaning to sound harsh.

”Well, you know. Never mind."

"No, sir, please tell me. What do you mean?"

"Nothing, nothing,” Mr. K. was waving his hands, as if saying leave me alone.

”Please, Mr. Kazadoukis, I think my son may be in trouble, and I was wondering what you meant. Perhaps this could help him."

"Frankly,” Mr. K.’s face brightened a little, “I’m sure he’ll be alright. He’s a good kid. And how’s Becka and your wife Melanie, are they all right?"

"Fine, Mr. K., how about Mrs. K.?"

"She died two years ago,” he said, becoming grim again.

”Oh, I’m so sorry. I knew that. Of course I did. I am so sorry.”

4.

The kids had gone to their rooms after dinner and Melanie and I were sipping some wine, talking in quiet voices.

”I didn’t want to talk about this in front of the kids,” she said. “You know, I went down to the laundry room right after work and while I was there, I heard the shrieks again. And then one of the girls from 4B came in as well to do the laundry and we talked about the new neighbors.” Melanie leaned in closer to me, “She says they’re ghouls."

"What? Don’t be ridiculous. What ghouls, what does she mean?"

"Ghouls, you know. Undead. She says she’s not sure, but she studied undead last semester and those shrieks sound like ghoul calls."

"That’s ridiculous? How can she tell, just from the sounds they make? They could be anything. Anyone."

"Just think about it,” she said, “My petunia is completely dead. I did not change anything, keep watering her like I used to, but she’s all brown and the earth is dry as dust."

"Those are just old wives tales,” I said, “There is no scientific evidence that ghouls can cause anything like that. There are whole communities where the undead live next to the living. There’s never any problems.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t want to be like that,” she said, “I’m just worried about the kids."

"I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. If anything bad was happening, there’s the police."

"I guess you’re right,” she said. “By the way, have you talked to Tommy?"

"Not yet,” I said.

”Well, there’s no time like the present,” she said, with a little swoosh with her fist to indicate vigor.

So I went down the hall to Tommy’s room. The door was ajar.

”Knock, knock, can I come in?"

"Sure, dad.” Tommy was on the computer, watching a video of someone playing a game, he paused it and took his headphones off. “What’s up?” he said with a sad smile.

”Nothing, I just wanted to talk.” I sat on his bed and picked up a book from the shelf, trying to look casual. “Hey, your room looks really clean and tidy. What’s this book? Coraline? Have you read this?"

"Yes, it’s a spooky story. I got it from Jessica Pavlovsky from school."

"I know the story, I used to love it when I was growing up. Wow, that takes me back.”

He smiled politely. He was such a good kid.

”So Jessica, huh?” I tried to sound casual, but quite possibly I failed miserably. “Is she in your class?"

"Yeah, we take history together. I like her, she’s okay."

"Is she just a friend, or?"

"Just a friend,” he hung his head.

”Yeah, that’s,” I said, but did not know how to finish. That’s okay? That’s too bad? That’s sad? That’s a giraffe? What makes me so bad at talking to this kid when he’s so accommodating, like an adult. Where is his rebellion? “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair now,” I said.

He put his headphones back on and got back to the video and I left, happy there was a girl. Somehow, it felt like less drama was coming on the account that it was a girl. I am not sure why, though. Girls are plenty of drama too.

I passed by Becka’s room, the door was wide open, so I stopped by. Doing my one-on-ones with the kids, apparently. So Becka, any progress on the Henderson report, I should say. “Hey, Pumpkin, how are you tonight?"

"I’m fine, daddy. Playing with Molly and Azure,” she said, referring to the dolls. Normal dolls, not possessed ones, and no imaginary friends. This is not that kind of story.

”Anything on the agenda for the weekend?” I asked.

”Yes, I almost forgot, Hazira would like us to play together. Her mom will be over to talk to you."

"Hazira?” I asked, “Who’s Hazira?"

"She’s the new girl in the building."

"Huh. Does she also go to your school?"

"No, daddy. She goes to Bertram, for music.” She gestured like she was playing the flute.

”Oh, so what’s she like? Hazura. Is she your age?"

"Hazira,” she said. “Hazira looks my age and acts it. But I think she may be older. Well, I don’t know."

"What do her parents do?"

"I dunno,” she shrugged.

”Okay, I’ll talk to Hazura’s mommy when she gets here."

"Hazira’s” she hollered.

5.

Melanie woke me up in the middle of the night. “I just had a bad dream."

"What?” I said.

”Not a natural one. It was really creepy. In the dream, I had a knife and,” I dozed off as we was talking, she woke me up again, “Are you even listening to me?"

"Uh-huh,” I said, “Just a few more minutes, okay?”

I feel into deep sleep, like I was drifting down into murky water. The I realized it was actually sand, and I was in some old ruins in the middle of the desert. I was dead, not much more than a skeleton. But I quickened whenever somebody entered the ruins. I raised a rusty spear and joined the other undead in stalking the intruder. We looked menacingly from walls and towers, we sneaked around ancient walkways and corridors. We haunted.

I woke up well rested.

6.

”So Mrs. Noomspa came over today,” I said over dinner, “She wants Becka to come over on a play date this Saturday. She’s really nice."

"Who’s Mrs. Noomspa?” Melanie asked.

”She’s the,” I said, “They’re the new neighbors. He’s an architect and she’s a homemaker."

"Oh, the new neighbors,” said Melanie. “Do you think it’s a good idea for Becka to play over there? I mean, they’re so… new."

"It’s fine. Becka and Hazira really hit it off, apparently. And Mrs. Noomspa, Jane, is so nice."

"So is she?” Melanie made a gesture in front of her face.

”What? Undead?” Tommy said.

”I meant,” Melanie said, but he cut her off.

”You’re all the same, aren’t you. You hate the undead, admit it."

"Now, Tommy,” I said, “Your mom does not hate the undead."

"Of course I don’t hate them. It’s just, haven’t you heard the news? A vampire killed his piano student last week."

"That’s just one story,” said Tommy very animated, “There’s plenty of others. Nothing wrong happening."

"Well yeah,” Melanie said, “But shouldn’t we be careful? I mean, there’s a chance they will turn her into one of them. These things happen. And if there’s a chance, we should be careful and avoid those situations."

"Turn her into what? Do you even know what they are, mom?"

"I… aren’t they ghouls?"

"What’s even a ghoul? What do you think this is, a picture book?"

"Now, Tommy, calm down,” I said.

”No, dad. Ghoul is a slur, it doesn’t mean anything. There’s no such thing as ghouls, not for real. Even when you say vampire, that’s a generalization. There are Maccata, and Bruxa, and Quetzalinia, and Strega. They are not the same thing. And if you must know, the Noomspas are Skinwalkers. The father is, at least. Mrs. Noomspa is a human and Hazira is mixed race. You cannot turn into a Skinwalker.”

Melanie had her face in her hands, and I wondered if she was crying. And if she was, what should I say to Tommy? Go to your room? Apologize to your mother? Luckily, Melanie revealed her face, and she was sad but not crying, “I’m sorry, Tommy. I didn’t mean to."

"I know, mom,” Tommy was calm now, digging through his potatoes with the fork. “I’m sorry too."

"I just think somebody should do something,” Melanie said.

7.

Melanie and I were seeing the Tommy’s teacher in her office. Mrs. Wilson looked like she had given up on life, and I am sure there was a story there, but I did not have the time to get into that. She called us urgently to speak to both of us. The kids were with Mr. and Mrs. K.

”I found this,” the teacher said, “It fell out of Tommy’s bag.” There was a plain brass top on her desk. It looked Eastern-European.

”What is this?” Melanie asked.

”It’s an amulet that grants the owner a skill. I think it gives Tommy a certain skill in unarmed combat."

"It what?” I said.

”Mr. and Mrs. Baker, these things are strictly forbidden on school grounds. Where did your son get an artifact this strong? Is it yours?"

"No,” I said, “I’ve never owned a magic item in my life. I could never afford it. Well, small things, you know. But never this strong. Is it ancient?"

"It doesn’t look ancient,” said Mrs. Wilson, “It looks like it was smuggled in from beyond the Veil. The magic is ancient, though. It’s a spell from before the Joining, known to the Others for centuries. I have no idea how it got here, but I can tell you one thing, your son should be suspended for this."

"Should be,” I said, “But we would not be talking if he was. I mean, it’s not a done deal, is it?”

She sighed and I sensed an entire life’s worth of pain in the sigh, but I did not have time for that. “Tommy, is a really good student. He is a great person, period. That’s why I think he does not deserve punishment. He needs some guidance. Some instruction. Something the parents should provide."

"Isn’t that what we’re paying you for?” Melanie asked.

”Mel, please,” I said.

”No, I’m being serious. We pay taxes that pay your salary, Mrs. Wilson. Shouldn’t you take care of it? Isn’t that what school is for? Instead, you have the audacity to criticize the way I bring up my children?”

Mrs. Wilson hung her head and sighed, and she sounded even more miserable this time. As if she was saying Here we go again. Then she looked at us with her tired eyes, put her hand on the top, and said “I’m keeping this.”

8.

I was at a bar, drinking. Tommy was at the hospital, a block down, but I just couldn’t stand another minute there. A group of blue-collar guys were drinking next to me, having fun. I could barely take their merriment.

Suddenly, they went all quiet and listened to the news, and then one of them, a rowdy uncle uncle type, said, “Well, I’m glad I’m not this boy’s father. Can you imagine that?"

"This would never happen to your boy, Jim. It’s insane what happened."

"They say his girlfriend got him into it."

"They say he was gay and couldn’t take it, that’s why he did it."

"No, there was definitely a girl in the story. A necromancer. She gave him the spell."

"Twelve students, can you imagine that?"

"Twelve students and a teacher, who was trying to stop him."

"Poor kids, their souls trapped forever because some faggot kid could not come out of the closet."

"Poor kids and teacher."

"And teacher. These things never used to happen, did they?”

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk