The Hatbox

The Hatbox / Chapter 4 - Part 2

Normally, he didn't care or watch what the neighbors did. He usually didn't have a clue what was going on outside on most days. But fate just so happened to let him be sitting there, in plain sight of this person, trespassing. The next-door neighbor was an old family friend. He didn't know her well, but whenever his family spoke of her, she was described in the most endearing way. She was clearly family to them. He knew she had to be about his parents' age, from what he could remember. But this car was driven by a much younger lady, and she was slowly pulling into the driveway like she was overly cautious. When you act like that, you're up to no good.

He thought about it for a while. He could manage to get to the side window and let her know she had the wrong place, or he could let her go in and call the police. But if he called the police, they would want to talk to him...maybe even at his house. So, after tossing the decision around in his head, he opted for yelling at the trespasser through the window.

As he eyeballed the coffee cup that he eagerly wanted to drink, he became angry that this person was interrupting his day in such a rude manner. This wasn't the kind of place where you did this sort of thing. They all looked out for each other around here. His family kept an eye out on the place next door. They grew up with the lady and it was always known since he was a little kid, that they would see to it that the home was looked after. It's not like they went inside, cleaned, or watered her plants. They simply kept an eye out. His family had lived in his house yearlong. The neighbor did not. So it was what this community did for each other. Once, a tourist obviously ran into the mailbox, leaving it on the ground. Alex's Dad had gotten so angry at "the nerve of some people" and was out there immediately repairing it before his friend found out. Everyone in the family felt this way. Even Alex had met her three different times. The sweetest Southern woman. A deep belle accent and manners to match. She was charming and loving. She was a part of the family. She only visited once or twice a year. He often wondered why but assumed she must not live close by. His family never really spoke of it either. But he knew he liked her. He didn't like this person sneaking up, driving under her carport though.

The frustration grew as his legs ached under his urgency to make it to the window before the lady was out of view. He propped his hip on the windowsill and gave the window a pull upwards. It was so much harder than it should've been for him. His arms expected a small force was needed but it required so much more. One more thing to add to his rage.

"Hey," he yelled. The yell matching the pain, shooting down both legs now.

The lady was just sitting in the car. "Good grief, she's going to make me stand here now." He fumed at the stranger.

The door began to open...the woman, with her back towards him, rose slowly, looking around.

"You shouldn't be there," he yelled out to the lady.

She turned towards him with tears streaming down her cheeks.

He suddenly felt like a gut punch had been delivered. Vandals aren't usually crying in the car as they pull up to the homes. Maybe she was lost. Regardless, she shouldn't be there.

"Are you talking to me?" She said, turning to hide, wiping the tears, regaining her composure as she once again faced him.

"Yes. Of course."

She felt the rush of the last few days, flowing over her like she'd been waiting for just the right person to speak ill towards her. Not that anyone would. Her mom just died. But she wanted to scream at someone. This guy had his hand raised super freaking high. "Pick me...pick me."

"And...how do you know where I should or shouldn't be?" she questioned rudely.

He huffed. The arrogance of some people.

"Because you're not the owner," he said with the anger he too, had been ready to deliver onto just the right, unexpected pain in the butt.

She slammed her door. Walked to the passenger side door, knowing full well that his gaze was still upon her. She felt the sand in her sandals and slid one foot out, gave it a shake while she propped her hand on the side of the car, and slid her foot back into her sandal. Intentionally taking as long as possible to rid her shoe of the sand. She opened the passenger door and grabbed out her backpack purse, slung it over her back carefully, then grabbed her laptop bag. She placed the strap over her shoulder as she decided to see if he was still looking.

She paused at the door, closed it carefully, pushed the lock button on the car remote, and turned to eye the nosey neighbor. "You don't know who I am," she huffed as she held up a house key. She dangled it there in a sarcastic manner a little longer than she needed to. She knew she didn't owe him any proof but felt like that might appease the nosey fellow for now. The last thing she needed was a knock on her door.

Then she felt the pit in her own stomach grow as she started to look for the house number again. Was she distraught in her approach as she parked? Had she read the house number wrong? It looked like the picture, but a lot of these houses looked similar...to her anyway.

She glanced over the front of the house and only huffed the sigh of relief when she saw the number again. She was at the right place.

"What a jerk," she whispered, under her breath, only after confirming the mistake hadn't been her own.

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