The Neighbors, Chapter 3

For the past few months, Lana’s mother had been in poor health. Having battled several bouts of pneumonia, Phil was surprised she had survived this long.

“Dad called,” said Lana one evening after Phil got home from work. “Mom has pneumonia again.”

“Again?” said Phil. “How is she doing?”

“It’s not looking good,” said Lana, shaking her head. “From what Dad said, she doesn’t have long.”

“Do you want to go visit them?” Phil asked.

“I think I will,” said Lana. “What about you?”

“I’ve got to work,” said Phil. “We’re close to making a big deal. If something happens though, it’s only an hour away.”

“Ok,” said Lana, and she kissed him and went to the bedroom to start packing.

The following morning, Lana was ready to go. She kissed Phil goodbye and climbed her into her car.

“I’ll miss you,” he said, and she smiled.

“I’ll be back on Sunday evening,” she said. “It’s just for the weekend.”

He watched her go until she was out of sight. After the car had disappeared, he turned and went to his own car to leave for work.

When he came home for the evening, he could hear yelling come from the Vincent home, though he couldn’t make out the specific words; it seemed they were shouting over each other. Phil shook his head, pleased that he and Lana didn’t fight like that, and headed into the house.

The shouting continued for nearly half an hour. At last, it stopped, and Phil began to wonder if they had reached a compromise. However, this thought had barely formed in his head when there was a knock on the front door. He got to his feet, opened the door, and was surprised to see Emily Vincent standing in front of him. She had clearly been crying: her eyes were red, and her mascara was smeared.

“Hi, Phil,” she said weakly. It sounded like she was about to burst into tears; they were already forming at the corners of her eyes.

“Hi, Emily,” he said. “Are you alright? I heard shouting earlier.”

“You heard that?” said Emily, but Phil didn’t answer; it was best to not tell her it wasn’t difficult to hear them.

“No matter,” she said, shaking her head. “I know this is strange, but can I stay with you? Just for the night? I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

Phil’s mind began to race as he thought. Given his recent experience with Emily and what Lana had told him, he wasn’t sure. But, he thought, she said she couldn’t go anywhere else. What was she supposed to do, just sleep on the streets? She needed his help!

“Yeah,” he said, and he opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

She smiled weakly at him and came inside.

“Would you like to lie down?” he asked. “We have a spare bedroom.”

“That would be nice,” said Emily, and he led her to the spare bedroom.

“Dinner will probably be in about twenty minutes or so,” said Phil as she looked around. “Is tuna casserole alright with you?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “That sounds perfect.”

Phil nodded, closed the door, and went to prepare dinner. He was just pulling the casserole out of the oven when he heard the spare bedroom door open, and Emily entered the kitchen.

“How are you feeling?” said Phil as he set the casserole on the table and went to pull the green beans out of the microwave.

“Better,” she said. “I was able to take a short nap.”

“That’s good,” said Phil. “Have a seat, and I’ll bring the plates over. Do you want some wine?”

“That would be nice,” said Emily, and Phil brought the plates and silverware over and set it down in front of her.

“This smells delightful,” said Emily, leaning down to smell the casserole.

“Thanks,” said Phil as he returned to the center island to pour the wine. “It’s my mom’s recipe, and she required that it always be made with green beans. She said it was the Food Law.”

Emily laughed, and Phil came back to the table and handed her a glass of wine. They ate in silence, the only sound being the clink of their silverware and wine glasses. When they had finished, Phil stood up and began to clear the table. Emily stood to help, but Phil batted her back down.

“You just relax,” he said. “I’ll take care of this. Besides, the casserole dish needs to soak before it can go into the dishwasher, so there aren’t even that many dishes.”

She smiled and sat back down. Once the dishes were cleared and the dish was soaking, Phil sat back down on the table, bringing the bottle of wine with him.

“Would you like some more?” he asked, and she nodded. Filling her glass, Phil couldn’t help but sneak a peek at her cleavage and smiled to himself.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat. “If you don’t mind my asking, what were you and Ed arguing about?”

Emily’s face fell and she took a gulp of her wine before answering. When she spoke, it was barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, what?” said Phil. “If you don’t want to tell me, it’s alright.”

Emily shook her head and took another gulp of wine.

“He hits me,” she said. “We’d gotten into an argument, and he hit me. I had to get out of there as fast as I could.”

She began to cry, tears streaming down her cheeks. Phil set his wine glass down on the table and moved to sit next to her.

“It’s alright,” he said, putting an arm around her. “Have you called the police? Is there something you want me to do? Is there something anyone can do?”

Emily shook her head.

“No,” she said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “I called the police once but, of course, he charmed them away. He said I was just hysterical, overreacting to our argument. They gave us a warning and left.”

She rested her hands on her legs and continued to cry. Phil looked at her hand and imagined how soft the skin would feel against his own. Before he could stop himself, he reached down and took her hand in his own. Emily’s head jerked; from the angle, he could see that she was looking at their intertwined hands. She leaned in, but Phil leaped to his feet, releasing her hand, and darted to the other side of the kitchen, looking out to the backyard.

“No,” he said more to himself than to her. “No.”

Emily didn’t say anything. She only stood, came over to him, and placed her arm on his shoulder. He turned and looked into her eyes. Before he could speak, she stepped forward and kissed him on the lips. Phil immeaditely pulled away but Emily stepped forward again.

Taken aback, Phil overcame his shock almost instantly and wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. There they stood: arms wrapped around each other, kissing in his kitchen. Again, Phil pulled away and looked back out the window.

“I think that,” he said slowly, “you should go to your room right now.”

Emily only nodded, and he listened to her footsteps retreat out of the kitchen, and he was able to breathe again when the guest bedroom door closed. He continued to look out the window, looking but not seeing. He then turned and walked to the guest bedroom door. Upon reaching it, he raised his fist and knocked.

***

The phone rang Sunday morning.

“Hello, this is Phil Richardson.”

“Hi, honey,” said Lana. “It’s happened.”

Her voice was weak, like she was struggling to form words. Phil understood; he had a special knack for that.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” he said. “When did it happen?”

“Sometime in the night,” she said. “She went to bed fine and just never woke up.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“No,” said Lana. “No, I don’t think so. I’m with dad, and we’ll take care of all the paperwork. I should be home tonight.”

“Take as long as you need,” said Phil, and Lana hung up. As she did, she turned to her father, who was sitting next to her. He smiled gently.

Lana returned home that evening around 7 o’clock. Phil stood in the garage door and watched as Lana’s car pulled in. She shut the car off and got out. As she did, Phil came down to meet her. As he hugged her, he smelled her sweet perfume.

As they were watching TV, Phil’s phone began to ring. He took it out and checked the caller ID.

“I gotta take this,” he said. “It’s work.”

He got up and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He came back a minute later and leaned against the wall.

“What did they want?” asked Lana? “Why did they call on a Sunday?”

“It was Carl, my boss,” said Phil. “He was just assigning me another portion of the deal to work on. I’m going to have to work late tomorrow.”

“Then why tell you about it now?” asked Lana. “Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“We’re apparently presenting to the client on Tuesday,” said Phil. “Apparently there was a conflict on Thursday, when we were supposed to present, so they just moved it up. I’ve got to go to my office and get to work, try get a jump start on it.”

Lana frowned but nodded. Phil came over, kissed her, and then went to the office to get to work.