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“Brady Firestone. Nice to meet you.”
He shakes my hand firmly and continues beaming at me.
“Everyone been treating you good? This here is a real friendly neighborhood.”
I nod.
“Oh absolutely. Everyone is great, and I like that the neighborhood is quiet. It’s all very…normal.”
He chortles happily.
“New to normal, eh? Military man, right? I recognize a couple of the tattoos you got there. Got a couple of those myself,” he says, pulling back his sleeve to show me a tattoo of a dog tag on his inner arm.
I have the same one on the left side of my chest. I glance down at mine and read the small inscription. Antonio Garcia, written in cursive, followed by the dates of his birth and death. I nod and give Joe an unexpressive smile.
“Something like that. So have you lived here long?” I ask, changing the subject.
He tilts his head back and forth. “About twenty years. My wife and I bought that house over there when we first got married. She passed about four years ago, so it’s just me now.”
I look down at the ground and knit my eyebrows together sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that, Joe.”
He smiles, although it’s a bit sad now.
“My wife was a fighter and she fought all the way until the end. But she told me her dying wish was for me to be happy and lose weight so I could live a long life for our kids. I’m working on keeping both those promises to her.”
I smile at his words. How I yearn to have that kind of connection or love with someone. Sometimes when I’m on tours, I think: who will care if I die? I don’t have any close family to speak of, and the only person I considered true family was Tony. Now that he is gone, I have jack shit.
Caught up in my own emotions, I suddenly just want to be alone.
“Well, nice to meet you, Joe. I really should get back to what I was doing.”
He smiles brightly.
“Oh right, right, I was just checking on you. If you need anything, I’m down the street. Also, if you haven’t met these folks right here, they’re good people,” he says nodding towards the white house next door. It’s a cute cottage with yellow shutters and colorful begonias planted in the yard.
“I have met them actually. Jackie and Jim Monroe, right?” I ask.
Joe nods in agreement.
“Yep, real nice and kind people. They’ve lived here since the neighborhood was first built. Susie was one of the first neighborhood kids actually.”
“Susie? Oh, that’s their daughter right? I remember them mentioning something about her.”
Joe looks off into the distance, seemingly thinking about something. His slightly bites into his bottom lip, and then he shakes his head.
“Yeah, that Susie is really something. Have you met her yet?”
I tilt my head at him, confused at what he means by that.
“Um, no I haven’t,” I say shaking my head. “I happened to catch her parents when I was coming home one day, but Susie was still at school I think? She goes to Remford High, right? I can’t remember because it was so long ago.”
He chuckles slightly and shakes his head. “Yep, it’s called Remford High. If I remember correctly, I think she’s done or ought to be close to graduation. Like a year left or something like that. Well anyways, when you meet her, you’ll be easily charmed. Very nice girl…yep…very nice indeed,” he murmurs as he stares off into space again.
I stand there awkwardly for a second, stumped. Why is Joe stammering and looking so confused? Is it something about the high school girl next door?
But then Joe snaps out of his trance and his jolly smile returns to his face. “I’ll get out of your hair. I see you’re busy. Just holler if you need anything. I’ll see you around.” He waves again and waddles back down the driveway to the sidewalk. He is wearing tight blue shorts and a white t-shirt. Bright yellow ankle weights wrap tightly around his thick ankles. I assume he stopped to talk during his late afternoon walk.
I shake off that weird conversation and return back to my bushes. I hope I didn’t come off as rude, but I hate talking about the military. It’s a stressful part of my life and my life here is the opposite of that. I hope he didn’t notice that I changed the subject quickly once he brought up the armed services.
Then again, my military buddies would never believe that Brady “Tap That” Firestone gardens and lives in a neighborhood where fat old men go on walks with ankle weights. I chuckle at the thought of telling my friends how I live now and their reaction.
I got the nickname “Tap That” because when we used to bet on who could get a girl in bed first, I always won. Looking back, I don’t feel great about it. In fact, it’s pretty disgusting and immature. But at the time, I got as much ass as possible. But it obviously came to nothing because now, I’ve never felt more alone.
