Martha

Chapter 4 Wacky Weekend

Chapter 4
Wacky Weekend

It was Saturday morning and I worked really hard bleaching the cobble-stoned path in the front yard. Because high-pressure washer' s racket and my headphones plugged on playing The Red Hot Chili Peppers, I missed the crewmen working on Grand Casona's front yard. I'd taken it from the town's people that no one ever visited Martha's house for any reason, however, the lawn needed some care. It was a mess of a lawn, and since it was huge enough to keep them a couple of hours there, maybe if I stayed alerted, I shall see the lady.

The men moved across the patio, trimming, mowing and pruning. It was after a few hours and leaving that front yard nicely done, they left Martha's house. Yet, there was no sign of her whatsoever. I don't know, It could happen that on and on I was too distracted to ever catch a glimpse. Perhaps, it was when I went inside to use the bathroom or to drink water. Damned it! I was really hoping to see Martha. Staring at my own patio I wagged my head. How could it be possible that they finished a yard three times mine and I was still halfway done only with the cobbled path.

It was a little bit past noon when finally, I'd finished. "Now it looks decently clean", I smiled, self-satisfied to see the path wasn't that ugly dirty yellowish color with green mold spots anymore. It was after musing for a few moments in my own front yard work I realized how hot it felt outside. The sun battered me to exhaustion and my body craved for a cool shower and a cold beer. "Okey Martha, you didn't  show up today. I guess I shall give a call to my sensual bibliotecaria brasileña... I deserve some love tonight!" I laughed to myself.

Later on that evening, I took Paula to the movies. Like a teenager, I found myself in the most innocent attempt to a date. It had lost my touch with women, it hit me hard that it all seemed it'd been from way back. Trying not to feel ashamed of me and taking on account that traveling from Puerto Rico to the States, then moving and the job search kept me busy and single for more than the desirable time.  After all, it had been all my fault. I should have been the one choosing the movie. Not even a little tiny kiss or single word during the movie. We were spell bounded by the drama... Next time, scratch the theater or any place that requires a long-term seating. Dance, music, and drinks will be instead.

I waved goodbye to Paula, after leaving her in front of her apartment. Feeling childish and silly I let escaped a chuckle to the kiss still lingering on my cheek.  I then realized prejudice comes up in the most deceiving ways as I had- like I guessed everyone else does- the off beam concept of Brazilian young women. I've always sizzled to the so picturesque image of Rio and the carnival with all these ladies half-naked dancing the samba on the streets. Then it was Paula, and she was all the other way around. A nerd like me, she was more interested in books and documentaries than in sex and wine... and soon I pitied myself, because sex and wine wasn't a bad choice after all.

Already home, I leaped like Dorthy of Oz along the recently cleaned-cobblestoned pathway, when I caught someone standing behind a window on the neighbor's house. I stopped and looked up, but she swiftly rolled the curtains closed. There she went again. It was she, there was no doubt, I crooked up a smile to what it seemed a small victory because if Martha was as interested in me as I was in her, and we spied each other in the same frequency, it was a matter of time that I'd meet the mysterious lady.

I did the happy dance to a couple walking their dog and staring at me as if I was insane. Ha! If they only knew how right they were.

It was close to midnight when I was in bed, staring at the ceiling as I recalled the moving curtain for the second time on the row... the silhouette behind it, staring down at me, yet, wasn't I supposed to be thinking of Paula? No, for some strange reason I wasn't and it was this unknown woman digging in my brain like a power drill. Was Martha, in fact, looking at me? Was she really spying on me? Arrrgh! Thinking of her was obsessing and I began to think perhaps she was a witch after all. No idea of who she was or how she looked like and Martha wrestled hand to hand with Paula for a corner inside my head. One woman a curvy-licious treat, while the other an enigma without a face or a history, being history my fave subject I found musing on the witch a hobby every night.

Next morning, I woke up to my rituals of eating a healthy breakfast and having a cup of rich Puerto Rican coffee. I read the newspaper, as I liked it the old ways and decided it was a good time to mow the lawn in my yard. In my case, I had to do it myself. Teachers can't afford to hire a crew of men to do it. Hence, that detail reaffirmed my theory that Martha was a rich woman.

I worked on the patio, the side next to Martha's house when the machine stopped working. "This piece of crap!" I mumbled as I kicked the trimmer yelling at it, the easiest way of fixing things. One more time, distracted by the music playing on the iPod and the noise made by the lawn mower, I hadn't noticed what was happening on the other side of the stone wall that divided my house from the manor, neither the female voice singing just a few meters away from me. Peeping over the hedge, I saw her.  She worked kneeling on the grass, then picked up something and walked away. It was a slender feminine figure, a long blonde braid swinging as she sauntered into the house.

Like a stalker, I waited, staring at the now closed screen door. Stupid me! For how long she was there and... wait, was that her? It wasn't that much what I saw,  but she didn't look like an old lady to me... well, not the back of an old lady, neither the cadential hip moving of an old lady.

I fell off when the cell phone rang loud enough to let the neighbor know I had been spying on her.

"Hola Paula." I was saved by the bell.