The Good Neighbor — Reader’s Vote (mm/FF): Part 9 (5/7/2024)
Posted: Wed Jan 03, 2024 8:51 pm
Part One:
“There’s just no way. No way, man. What did you do?” Keith stared blankly at the image on my phone, his mouth agape. “Tell me everything,” he said quietly, handing my phone back to me.
On the screen, our blonde, scalding-hot neighbor, Mrs. Ellis, stared directly at the camera, her eyes wrinkled from her smile, her smile hidden well behind several strips of wide black electrical tape. In the photo, her hands, ankles, knees, and chest were wrapped tightly in the tape, forcing her otherworldly curves to protrude outward. She was standing in the middle of a messy, under-construction-looking kitchen, head tilted playfully to the side, blue eyes wide with a pretended, playful terror.
“Did she let you do this?” Keith stared confounded back at me.
“Of course — I wouldn’t commit a felony and not tell you first,” I chucked back. I wasn’t surprised at Keith’s disbelief. Growing up across the street from each other, we had both come to age with a shared, mythical admiration toward our shared neighbor, Amy Ellis. Growing up, she was the blonde bombshell married to an often salesman. They lived comfortably and openly, Mrs. Ellis making her vast, intricate yard and backyard pool available to any of the kids in the dog days of summer. This is how we got to know her, little by little, over several years. Now, long divorced and struggling to keep up with the daunting property, they didn’t see as much of her. For Keith, this photo marked the first time he had laid eyes on her in about a year.
“You need to start talking,” Keith said to me, still staring at the photo in my hands.
— — — — — — —
I was walking home from the last day of a crappy summer job when I crossed past the Ellis household. Mrs. Ellis was bringing out the trash to the bins just outside of her fence. She locked eyes with me and smiled. “Bennett? Is that you? I don’t think I’ve seen you all summer!”
“I’ve been working — up until today actually. Just quit my job, so I guess I’m just getting home early today.” I paused for a moment at the fence. Mrs. Ellis strode up to meet me, her hips and muscled legs tightly shaped by dark blue jeans. Her blonde hair was tied into a ponytail, and bobbed over the straps that held up the green tank top she was wearing. “Can I take that from you?” I asked, holding out my hand for the trash bag.
“Oh that’s kind, thank you.” I took the bag and placed it in the bin. “I’m sorry about your job — you’ll find another one. No shortage of business looking to rent strong young men. What were you doing again?”
“Maintence odd jobs at that old apartment complex a few blocks up. It was easy work, but they asked too many hours from me. I’m 17 — I deserve a little bit of summer.” I noticed Mrs. Ellis’s focus drifting. “How are you? It’s been a long time.”
“It has, hasn’t it? Oh I’ve been better. This house is going to make me jump off a roof.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “If anybody told me that getting left with a big house would end up being more curse than blessing, I would have let him keep it and packed my things. Everything is starting to break down — cabinets, flooring, plumbing, you name it. Costs a lot of time and a lot of money — I have plenty of one but not the other.”
“I’m glad you stayed! Sorry it’s been hard — that house looks like a real beast. Have you had anybody out here to come help you?”
“Can’t afford it. Between jobs right now unfortunately. Going back to school most likely, which at my age is almost laughable.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” I said, trying my best to sound comforting. “Want me to come in and take a look at a few things? No charge. I like these types of jobs.”
“Really? You’d do that? I can try and pay you a little bit — though it’s not what I’m sure your time is worth.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Geeze; well okay Bennett, thank you! If it’s really no trouble…I have some cabinets that need mending. Can we start there?”
“Lead the way!” I deftly hop over the fence and follow Mrs. Ellis inside, trying and failing to not watch her hips sway ahead of me.
— — — — — — — — — —
“Mrs. Ellis….what is this?!” My jaw dropped as I stepped into the kitchen. In front of me, a mess of old cabinets lay swinging and creaking up on their mounts. Black electrical tape had been wrapped haphazardly around knobs, nails, entire doors in an attempt to keep them upright. Rolls of the black tape lay on the counter. “Did you try to tape…your wooden cabinets together?”
“Don’t make fun of me! I don’t know what I’m doing!” Mrs. Ellis blushed heavily, smiling. “Can you fix it?”
“Yes — it’s not that hard, but I definitely won’t be needing all this.” I began stripping the black tape off of the cabinets, balling it up and handing it to Mrs. Ellis, along with the two rolls on the counter.” I won’t be needing any of this in fact.
“None of it? Why did I buy it then? Ugh, what a waste. There has to be some use for it…” Mrs. Ellis began listing off various incorrect applications for the tape on various issues afflicting her house, each one misguided and undoubtedly bound to make things worse. “What do you think?” She turned back to me as I fiddled with the cabinet fastenings, and hopped onto the counter, having a seat a few feet from me. Even just out of the corner of my eye, I couldn’t keep my gaze focused on any thing but the deep cleavage plunging down into her too. Between her body and her talking, I was quickly becoming useless as a repairman.
“I don’t know Mrs. Ellis.” I called back, trying to round up a few fallen screws beneath the wooden doors. “Maybe for different jobs later, but none that you just mentioned. Best to just put it away for now so it’s not in the way.” Not thinking, I continued. “Or you can put a piece or two on your mouth so I can focus.”
“What?! On my mouth? You little jerk.” Mrs. Ellis laughed teasingly at me for a moment.
I got nervous all of a sudden, not meaning what I had said, and not hating the subconscious suggestion either. I waited curiously to hear what she was thinking.
“I guess I do blab on a little, huh.” After a few prolonged moments of silence which made me worried I’d offended her, I noticed Mrs. Ellis scoot across the counter until she was right next to me. “Fine. If that will help you focus. I owe you, don’t I?” Mrs. Ellis handed me one of the black rolls of tape. “You may do the honors — I’ll probably mess it up.” She laughed and leaned sideways toward me, lips closed.
Not wanting to give her time to second guess anything, I moved quickly and silently, pulling three strips of tape from the roll and pressing them firmly onto Mrs. Ellis’s mouth. The final strip I smoothed over with my thumbs against her face. I had never touched Mrs. Ellis’s face before — her sharp jawline and pronounced cheekbones still had a softness that made my chest tremor.
“Mmmpfhm?” Mrs. Ellis laughed into the tape. She gave me a thumbs up, as if asking, “All good?”
“Much better!” I tried not to shout my response. “Now I can get to work! Do you have a toolbox I can use?”
“Mmmpf!” Mrs. Ellis nodded her head, laughing at trying to hold a conversation in her gagged state. “Mhhffmmph.” She held up a finger, slid off the counter, and darted out of the living room. A few moments later she returned with a toolbox in two hands, clearly never opened and brand new.
“Perfect. I’ll take that.” Reaching out for the toolbox. As Mrs. Ellis grabbed the handle and extended out to me, she let go with her other hand, revealing to the two of us that the box had not been locked closed. To our shared horror, the toolbox spilled out onto the floor, sending hammers and screwdrivers and nails and dozens of other bits and pieces scattering across the kitchen.
“Mmmfppffffhhhhh.” Mrs. Ellis held her face in her hands, embarrassed and exasperated.
“I can’t believe you just did that.” I said, only half-kidding. An idea formed in my head as I took inventory of the fallen tools and pieces. “I thought your mouth was all I’d have to tape to get some work done. It looks like we’re gonna have to tape up all of you if this cabinet is going to get fixed.”
To my shock, Mrs. Ellis didn’t argue. She didn’t look up, her head still buried in her hands, laughing at herself now through her gag. Without making eye contact, she grabbed the tape off the counter. “Mmmmf hmm.” She said with a sigh, nodding downward, handing me the roll.
“There’s just no way. No way, man. What did you do?” Keith stared blankly at the image on my phone, his mouth agape. “Tell me everything,” he said quietly, handing my phone back to me.
On the screen, our blonde, scalding-hot neighbor, Mrs. Ellis, stared directly at the camera, her eyes wrinkled from her smile, her smile hidden well behind several strips of wide black electrical tape. In the photo, her hands, ankles, knees, and chest were wrapped tightly in the tape, forcing her otherworldly curves to protrude outward. She was standing in the middle of a messy, under-construction-looking kitchen, head tilted playfully to the side, blue eyes wide with a pretended, playful terror.
“Did she let you do this?” Keith stared confounded back at me.
“Of course — I wouldn’t commit a felony and not tell you first,” I chucked back. I wasn’t surprised at Keith’s disbelief. Growing up across the street from each other, we had both come to age with a shared, mythical admiration toward our shared neighbor, Amy Ellis. Growing up, she was the blonde bombshell married to an often salesman. They lived comfortably and openly, Mrs. Ellis making her vast, intricate yard and backyard pool available to any of the kids in the dog days of summer. This is how we got to know her, little by little, over several years. Now, long divorced and struggling to keep up with the daunting property, they didn’t see as much of her. For Keith, this photo marked the first time he had laid eyes on her in about a year.
“You need to start talking,” Keith said to me, still staring at the photo in my hands.
— — — — — — —
I was walking home from the last day of a crappy summer job when I crossed past the Ellis household. Mrs. Ellis was bringing out the trash to the bins just outside of her fence. She locked eyes with me and smiled. “Bennett? Is that you? I don’t think I’ve seen you all summer!”
“I’ve been working — up until today actually. Just quit my job, so I guess I’m just getting home early today.” I paused for a moment at the fence. Mrs. Ellis strode up to meet me, her hips and muscled legs tightly shaped by dark blue jeans. Her blonde hair was tied into a ponytail, and bobbed over the straps that held up the green tank top she was wearing. “Can I take that from you?” I asked, holding out my hand for the trash bag.
“Oh that’s kind, thank you.” I took the bag and placed it in the bin. “I’m sorry about your job — you’ll find another one. No shortage of business looking to rent strong young men. What were you doing again?”
“Maintence odd jobs at that old apartment complex a few blocks up. It was easy work, but they asked too many hours from me. I’m 17 — I deserve a little bit of summer.” I noticed Mrs. Ellis’s focus drifting. “How are you? It’s been a long time.”
“It has, hasn’t it? Oh I’ve been better. This house is going to make me jump off a roof.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “If anybody told me that getting left with a big house would end up being more curse than blessing, I would have let him keep it and packed my things. Everything is starting to break down — cabinets, flooring, plumbing, you name it. Costs a lot of time and a lot of money — I have plenty of one but not the other.”
“I’m glad you stayed! Sorry it’s been hard — that house looks like a real beast. Have you had anybody out here to come help you?”
“Can’t afford it. Between jobs right now unfortunately. Going back to school most likely, which at my age is almost laughable.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” I said, trying my best to sound comforting. “Want me to come in and take a look at a few things? No charge. I like these types of jobs.”
“Really? You’d do that? I can try and pay you a little bit — though it’s not what I’m sure your time is worth.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Geeze; well okay Bennett, thank you! If it’s really no trouble…I have some cabinets that need mending. Can we start there?”
“Lead the way!” I deftly hop over the fence and follow Mrs. Ellis inside, trying and failing to not watch her hips sway ahead of me.
— — — — — — — — — —
“Mrs. Ellis….what is this?!” My jaw dropped as I stepped into the kitchen. In front of me, a mess of old cabinets lay swinging and creaking up on their mounts. Black electrical tape had been wrapped haphazardly around knobs, nails, entire doors in an attempt to keep them upright. Rolls of the black tape lay on the counter. “Did you try to tape…your wooden cabinets together?”
“Don’t make fun of me! I don’t know what I’m doing!” Mrs. Ellis blushed heavily, smiling. “Can you fix it?”
“Yes — it’s not that hard, but I definitely won’t be needing all this.” I began stripping the black tape off of the cabinets, balling it up and handing it to Mrs. Ellis, along with the two rolls on the counter.” I won’t be needing any of this in fact.
“None of it? Why did I buy it then? Ugh, what a waste. There has to be some use for it…” Mrs. Ellis began listing off various incorrect applications for the tape on various issues afflicting her house, each one misguided and undoubtedly bound to make things worse. “What do you think?” She turned back to me as I fiddled with the cabinet fastenings, and hopped onto the counter, having a seat a few feet from me. Even just out of the corner of my eye, I couldn’t keep my gaze focused on any thing but the deep cleavage plunging down into her too. Between her body and her talking, I was quickly becoming useless as a repairman.
“I don’t know Mrs. Ellis.” I called back, trying to round up a few fallen screws beneath the wooden doors. “Maybe for different jobs later, but none that you just mentioned. Best to just put it away for now so it’s not in the way.” Not thinking, I continued. “Or you can put a piece or two on your mouth so I can focus.”
“What?! On my mouth? You little jerk.” Mrs. Ellis laughed teasingly at me for a moment.
I got nervous all of a sudden, not meaning what I had said, and not hating the subconscious suggestion either. I waited curiously to hear what she was thinking.
“I guess I do blab on a little, huh.” After a few prolonged moments of silence which made me worried I’d offended her, I noticed Mrs. Ellis scoot across the counter until she was right next to me. “Fine. If that will help you focus. I owe you, don’t I?” Mrs. Ellis handed me one of the black rolls of tape. “You may do the honors — I’ll probably mess it up.” She laughed and leaned sideways toward me, lips closed.
Not wanting to give her time to second guess anything, I moved quickly and silently, pulling three strips of tape from the roll and pressing them firmly onto Mrs. Ellis’s mouth. The final strip I smoothed over with my thumbs against her face. I had never touched Mrs. Ellis’s face before — her sharp jawline and pronounced cheekbones still had a softness that made my chest tremor.
“Mmmpfhm?” Mrs. Ellis laughed into the tape. She gave me a thumbs up, as if asking, “All good?”
“Much better!” I tried not to shout my response. “Now I can get to work! Do you have a toolbox I can use?”
“Mmmpf!” Mrs. Ellis nodded her head, laughing at trying to hold a conversation in her gagged state. “Mhhffmmph.” She held up a finger, slid off the counter, and darted out of the living room. A few moments later she returned with a toolbox in two hands, clearly never opened and brand new.
“Perfect. I’ll take that.” Reaching out for the toolbox. As Mrs. Ellis grabbed the handle and extended out to me, she let go with her other hand, revealing to the two of us that the box had not been locked closed. To our shared horror, the toolbox spilled out onto the floor, sending hammers and screwdrivers and nails and dozens of other bits and pieces scattering across the kitchen.
“Mmmfppffffhhhhh.” Mrs. Ellis held her face in her hands, embarrassed and exasperated.
“I can’t believe you just did that.” I said, only half-kidding. An idea formed in my head as I took inventory of the fallen tools and pieces. “I thought your mouth was all I’d have to tape to get some work done. It looks like we’re gonna have to tape up all of you if this cabinet is going to get fixed.”
To my shock, Mrs. Ellis didn’t argue. She didn’t look up, her head still buried in her hands, laughing at herself now through her gag. Without making eye contact, she grabbed the tape off the counter. “Mmmmf hmm.” She said with a sigh, nodding downward, handing me the roll.