Neighbors

Jeff walked outside and the humid air immediately caused a light sweat to break out on his forehead. He stood on the small block of concrete that constituted his front porch and stared out at his yard. The immaculate carpet of green sparkled with morning dew. He took a deep breath, inhaling all the scents the morning offered.

The Sunday paper sat on the sidewalk near the driveway. The new paperboy Scotty always managed to keep it off the grass. He was so much better at his job than the last kid. Joey was sloppy and didn’t care where the paper landed. Scotty had work ethic, though, and Jeff made a mental note to tip him a little extra the next time he saw the boy. Maybe he should start calling him something more grownup, like Scott.

As Jeff walked down the driveway to fetch the paper, he noticed movement across the street and sighed out loud. Phillip knelt in his flowerbed, wearing that ridiculous straw hat, tending to his tulips. Jeff hoped he’d be able to grab the paper and get back inside before his neighbor saw him. Phillip was a talker.

Jeff couldn’t remember when he started hating Phillip, or why. Maybe it was a lot of things. The hideous robin’s egg blue that he painted his siding. Every other house on the block had subtle earth tones, and then right in the middle of the neighborhood was Phillip’s house, sticking out like a bright blue sore thumb. Or the tall grass he planted between the sidewalk and the street. It was knee high and looked like dead weeds, yet when Jeff complained to the city they told him it was ornamental and allowed. Ridiculous, just like everything else Phillip did.

And those tulips. What kind of man spends hours upon hours fussing over tulips? Everyday Phillip was on his knees, surrounded by the red and purple bulbs, wearing that idiotic straw hat. Constantly pruning, mulching, watering, and replanting, Phillip treated those flowers like they were his children. Jeff couldn’t imagine wasting so much time with something so trivial.

Phillip also drove a foreign car. A small, gold sedan that he washed every Saturday without fail. Jeff couldn’t understand why he’d go out and buy a vehicle that wasn’t domestic, not with the economy hitting the skids lately. Buying foreign was just unpatriotic in his opinion. You might as well spit on the American flag.

When Jeff reached the end of the driveway, he stooped over and picked up the paper. Phillip happened to stand up and notice him. He waved and started walking quickly across his lawn, dropping the spade from his hand to the ground by his feet. Jeff sighed and waved back, waiting for him to cross the street. Phillip’s face was red and sweat dripped off of his ears and nose. A little bit of gray hair peaked out from beneath that straw hat.

“Morning, Jeff. How’s it going?”

“Good, Phillip. How’re you?”

“I’m doing alright, doing alright.” Phillip raised his hat a little and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Beautiful weather, right?”

“It’s a little warm.”

“Well, sure, but before you know it we’ll be knee-deep in snow.”

“I suppose we will.”

“Any plans today?” Phillip asked.

“No, just staying around the house.”

“Well, you and Mary should join us for dinner. What do you say?”

Jeff panicked and searched his mind for an excuse. Phillip and his ridiculous straw hat, asking him to dinner, probably planning on serving his wife’s dry pot roast. The guy just couldn’t pick up on hints. What was Jeff supposed to do? Just come right out and say “I hate you, Phillip” face to face? The guy just didn’t know how to act. He didn’t know how to be a man. Jeff quickly considered grabbing his five iron from the garage and going on a rampage through Phillip’s tulips. That would definitely be the end of anymore dinner invitations. Mary wouldn’t be happy with him, though. And what would his other neighbors think?

“That’d be great, Phillip,” he said. “What time?”

“Oh, come over around six. We’re having pot roast.”

Jeff smiled. “I love Nancy’s pot roast.”

Phillip nodded and returned a grin. “Me, too. See you then.”

Jeff turned and headed back toward his house, grinding his teeth together so hard pain shot through his jaw and up his temple. His heart pounded and his face felt warm as he went through the front door. He sat down in his favorite recliner, kicked back and opened the paper. It’s funny how a beautiful morning can be ruined so quickly, he thought.

“Mary,” he called out. “We’re going over to Phillip and Nancy’s for dinner. She’s making a roast.”