Phoenix

Chapter Two

Around noon, I made myself a quick lunch before curling back up on the couch to start watching another movie. My eyelids began to get heavy halfway through it, and soon I was lulled to sleep by the fullness of my stomach and the warmth of my blanket.

Sometime later, I woke from my nap from pounding at the front door. Stretching my arms over my head, I contemplated if I felt like answering the door before peering at the clock.

Wonder who that could be at two in the afternoon?

A couple more knocks sounded before I threw the duvet to the side with a scowl, softly groaning as I got up and made my way to the front door. I peeked through the peephole cautiously, a smile stretching across my face as I unlocked the door and swung it open to the person standing on the stoop.

He smiled back once our eyes met, his eyes almost disappearing under his wrinkles.

"Hello, Mr. Elvy. What brings you by?"

Standing at a hunched height of five foot four, Enoch Elvy had high cheekbones, a wrinkly round face, and a pair of the loveliest brown eyes that I had ever seen on an older man. His salt and pepper hair peeked out from under his knitted cap in random places, and his black coat was zipped up practically to his chin. He looked as if winter was knocking down his door versus it still being a month away, but I guess being in your seventies did that to you.

"Hello, sweetheart," He greeted with a friendly smile as he outstretched one of his hands to me, his other resting upon the silver cane he used to walk. His voice was deep, his Russian accent prominent, but not too thick. "The mailman slipped some of your mail into my mailbox again."

I tsked as I took the letters from him. Autumn had just dropped off some of his mail a few days ago because it was in our box.

"He's been doing that a lot lately, it seems. I have some letters on my table for you that came yesterday. Would you like to come in for a minute? It'll only take me a second to grab them."

He nodded, smiling softly. "Sure, dorogoy."

I used to be bothered by the little Russian names he called me, fearing that he was calling me something derogatory. After inquiring about them one day, I found out that they're pet names or terms of endearment.

Moving to the side with a smile on my face, I motioned for him to take a seat on the couch after he stepped through the threshold. He gingerly obliged as I scurried into the living room to grab the letters that were lying at the center of the kitchen table.

"How's your wife been, Mr. Elvy?" I inquired as I made my way back over to him and held out his letters. Last I knew, his wife was sick and in the hospital.

"Please, call me Enoch," He said, a soft sigh escaping his lips before he continued. He always insists that I call him by his first name, but I can't seem to bring myself to. "Maribel is doing much better than the last time we spoke. Poor girl had a bad case of pneumonia for a good three weeks. But, she's a strong one, my Maribel."

His eyes sparkled with fondness as he spoke of his wife, and a pang of envy hit me as I observed the love and adoration written clear as day on his face.

I wish I had someone who talked about me like that.

"That's good. I'm glad that Maribel is better," I smiled softly, forcefully pushing that thought away, along with the bad memories of my failed relationships it conjured up and hurried on to change the subject. "Are you two going to see your children for Thanksgiving?"

Pulling his coat sleeve up, he peered at his wristwatch briefly before answering. "Yes, we're leaving in about an hour for Wyoming to spend the holiday with them."