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“Go! And have fun on your date.”
“I will,” she says as she starts to turn around, “and don’t forget to get in touch for girl time!”
I wave at her and find myself actually looking forward to getting together with her. I was gathering friends left, right and centre like it’s nothing and I beam with pride as I bike back home.
As I’m putting my bike in the shed out back after coming home, I see O standing in his backyard. He has a phone pressed to his ear and he seems to be having a heated conversation with someone. He’s rubbing his eyebrows with his thumb and index finger while his eyes are closed, his mouth turned into a small stripe. I can’t hear what they’re talking about, but his voice is raised and I can tell it’s a hard conversation. O is dressed to the T in business attire. Grey pants and a matching jacket with a light blue button-down shirt beneath it. Our eyes meet and I wave. He waves back and hangs up the phone.
“Hi!” I yell.
He walks over to the white picket fence that separates our gardens. When we were younger, we endlessly nagged our parents to just get rid of the fence already so we would have an extra-large garden. Young as we were, we thought that would also mean we would win the argument to get some swings and a pool in the garden since ‘not enough space’ would no longer be an issue.
“Back from town?” he asks when he’s almost at the fence. I start walking in his direction as well.
“Yeah, I’ve been writing at Roots,” I answer as we both reach the fence at the same time. “Rough phone call?”
He huffs and he focuses his hazel eyes on mine. “Work,” is all he has to say about it. He then seems to let the thought about work go and his face seems to lighten up. “Are you all set for drinks on Friday?”
“I’m right on schedule. Without disappearing documents, I should be just fine.”
“Well, if your document does disappear, feel free to come knock on my door again.”
In the back of my mind I’m still a little embarrassed about how I barged into O’s home. That’s until I see the twinkle in O’s eyes and see that he’s joking.
“How are your parents?” he asks when I don’t answer his comment about knocking on his door. He’s got one hand on the fence and is looking all nonchalant. I suddenly see him for the man he has become, instead of the boy I grew up with. He really has grown up to be one fine specimen. I’m certain he’s getting all kinds of attention from the ladies. I shrug my thoughts about how O looks nowadays and remember he asked me something.
“They’re doing great, having a blast in Europe. Drinking all the limoncello and eating all the Parmesan. Acting like two teenagers in love with each other,” I say, the image of our last video call still vividly on my mind.
“Good for them, they deserve a break.”
I give him a questioning look before he elaborates.
“Your mom has us over for dinner at least once a week. She pretends she has made too much by accident and then needs us, so she won’t be wasteful.”
That makes me smile. It perfectly describes my mom. And it warms me that O and Jonah still have my mom. Just like the old days. We fall silent for a moment. When it starts to become awkward, O looks me dead in the eye.
“I really am glad you’re home Morgan. If there’s anything, missing chapters included, just knock on my door. There’s almost always someone home.”
He stares at me with such an intensity, I can feel it in my bones. There’s not an ounce of dishonesty in his words and I feel more welcome to be here than I’ve ever felt to be anywhere. When his words settle down in my head, I’m at home. Weirdly enough it has nothing to do with my parents’ house or my hometown, but everything with the rekindling with my next-door neighbor. I try to find the right words to say, but before I can give an answer Jonah hangs his brown head out of the side window of the house.
“Hey work-a-holic, if your phone call is done you should get your ass over here. You owe me a workout.”
O, who stands with his back to Jonah, rolls his eyes while looking at me and I start laughing.
“I saw that!” Jonah yells. “We’re now going for a two-mile warm up instead of one.”
“Yikes,” I whisper, and O starts laughing.
“Get your butt in here or it’ll be three!”
We share a last look, but O turns around quickly and starts walking back to the house as we wave each other goodbye.
