His gaze wandered to a small balcony on the second floor. There were four tall guys standing there, talking and drinking. Two of them were peeling the paint off of the banister, and the thick flecks fell into the darkened yard. They looked very much like Alex and seemed shiny, freshly showered. My diaphragm was hurting as if I had just come back from a run. “Is this where your friends live?” I asked. Alex nodded.
“Then get lost.” He pushed the door open and got out of the car.
I parked not far from the shrub marked by the dangling tape and walked towards the house. The old lady came out with empty plastic bottles in her hands, heading for the recycling bin. She had left the lights on behind her. She stopped and approached me on the sidewalk. Her eyes were small, blue, and ugly, and she had wrinkles on the sides of her nose. She extended one hand, which remained in the air. “This is not easy,” she said, looking me in the eye. Afterwards, we walked up and sat on her balcony. She offered me a chair. I sat and stared at the oil stains on the stone banister, eating her dinner.
That night Iris fell asleep in Ben’s bed. I looked at her. Her eyelids were shut, puffy and soft. A few boxes lined with copies of the community newspaper were filled with things. I didn’t look inside, but I went into Beth’s room, stepping by accident on a pink flip flop at the entrance. The air smelled of tangerines and coconut, the fabric softener Iris uses. I sat down in the chair facing the small silver computer that we once bought. I leaned over it and blew out air. I had to breathe deeply and keep from looking around. The computer’s mouse was covered with sparkles. I rested my palm on it, and the screen turned on with a whir of static electricity. A line ran through in purple. God damn it. Beth Mautner’s blog!! Everything you could possibly want to say!!
The latest entry date appeared beneath the line running across the screen. It was the day the children had disappeared. After which came the lines: In those days I talked a lot about weapons. There was Alex, the lone soldier who lived with the old lady across the street. It was unclear whether they were related. On Friday afternoons Alex was always out on the balcony in boxer shorts and an undershirt, cleaning his short barrel M – 16 in the sun, smoking and sweating for an hour or two and I would watch him from our balcony and say, what a waste of manpower.
The rest was familiar too. It continued with Tell them that you wounded one of them, I planned on saying. He’d clean his weapon one last time, for my sake, and then hand it over along with the ammunition.
And further down, highlighted in purple
My dad is in love with the neighbor’s soldier…!!!!! OMG!!!!!!!!!!
I sat back down in the chair. It was several sizes too small. Fine hairs of dust moved like long arms from the computer’s air vents. The silver table that we bought was there, the same as always. A chill went through my body. I pressed ENTER after along with the ammunition. And I began typing. The night the children disappeared began by someone alerting the neighborhood security watch. The jeeps started circling around, driving at full speed. Their Kojaks blinked like crazy. Police cars joined in and searchlights lit up our dark silence.
Thanks for reading.
