Old Neighbor

Chapter 1: Home Again

The flight from San Francisco to Winston-Salem seemed to stall over the Midwest. Flights are never longer than the ones home. He reached for his laptop, still in its case by his feet, out of habit, but there was no need for it. There were no emails to answer, no important questions to field from investors or board members, and no crises to avert with bankers or customers. His responsibilities for such things evaporated when the check cleared the bank. He was, absurdly, unemployed.

The laptop called to him like pain from a phantom limb. For nearly ten years, he had lived through that device, connected to people through it, taken commands from it, and issued commands to others with it. It had been his compass, directing him, leading him, and helping him lead others.

The vast flatness radiated out below him as he sipped his water. His seat in first class, purchased at the last minute for an obscene amount of money, provided him with a full view of the journey, boring as it was. Or maybe the scenery was beautiful, even spectacular, but he was bored--a man without a purpose.

That wasn't exactly true, as his mother gave him a new task not long after the company had sold: prepare his childhood home for sale. Sheila Mitchell, Mark's mother, had moved to Florida to be closer to her daughter and grandchildren, abandoning the home in Greensboro. As Mark was now available to help, she reasoned, he should clean out the old place and get it sold. She had all she needed in her new retirement community home.

Mark Mitchell was less enthusiastic than his mother regarding the idea, but given he had little else going and believed that saying "I don't want to" was not an option, he reluctantly found himself on an eastbound flight to Greensboro with a single suitcase. A quick check out the window confirmed that the airplane had not moved in the last thirty minutes, or at least the scenery hadn't changed, so he reclined his seat, closed his eyes, and waited.

Most people rent a car when they arrive in a new city. Mark was not like most people. He asked the cab driver to drop him at the nearest Toyota dealership and he wheeled his bag into their showroom.

"Good afternoon," a salesman said. "Can I help you?"

Mark paused, the handle to his bag still in hand, and smiled. "I'd like to buy a car," he said.

"I can help you with that," the salesman said with a practiced smile. "What are you interested in?"

Glancing through the showroom, Mark's eyes settled on a Toyota Highlander SUV. "This one," said Mark, tapping it lovingly on the door. Then he glanced at the sticker in the window and shrugged.

The salesman smiled broadly. "That is a great choice. It's a high-end model and has all the extras. Would you like to go over the features?"

Mark shook his head. "No, I just want to buy it."

"Excuse me?" The salesman said.

"Credit card alright for this?" Mark said.

The salesman scowled. "Sir, this is a vehicle with a sticker price of over fifty-thousand dollars. You can't just buy it with a credit card."

"Sure I can," said Mark, pulling a card from his wallet. "Figure out the full price, see if you can get some plates on it, and run the card for the whole amount. It'll be fine. Here's my driver's license, too. Do a credit check."

Dumbfounded, the salesman said, "I'll need to speak with my manager."

"OK," said Mark. "I'm going to sit over here for a bit. I just got off a long flight. But don't make me wait too long. I hate waiting."

"Yes, sir," the salesman said, and he walked to the office area, card in hand. He returned in two minutes with his manager.

The dealer's sales manager, an older gentleman, said, "We ran a credit check, and you can purchase the car with this card. Is that your intention?"

"Yup," said Mark. "Let's get it done."

In ninety minutes, Mark was driving a new Toyota Highlander, his suitcase in the back, and the greatest hits from the 1960s blaring on the satellite radio. Like his plane ticket to get here, he was sure he paid too much and couldn't care less. The sale of his company had netted him nine figures, meaning the plane ticket and the new SVU's expenses amounted to a rounding error on his net worth. Perhaps after ten years of pinching pennies, he felt the urge to let go for a bit.

Greensboro was just as he had remembered it, green, lush, and spacious. He had grown up here, gone to school here, and played little league and soccer long before college, graduate school, and San Francisco. Childhood memories of being that skinny, dorky kid, underdeveloped, awkward, and a little too cerebral for his own good flooded back to him as he drove through old neighborhoods.

When he pulled into his mother's driveway, he turned off the engine and muttered to himself, "Now what?"

Chapter 2: Familiar Faces

The house was mostly as he remembered it. There were gaps where furniture once stood, but now it lived in Florida in Mrs. Mitchell's new home. The remainder, Mark was informed, should be thrown into a dumpster without delay. As evening approached, Mark walked through the house, climbed the stairs, and stood in the door jam of his childhood bedroom. His twin bed, still nicely made, filled one wall. Posters of Mars rovers and fighter jets hung dusty on the walls, illuminated by the late afternoon sun.

Mark sat on his old bed and reminisced. There were video games and computer projects, all-night board game marathons with his fellow nerds, bowls of junk food, buckets of caffeinated drinks to fuel the young boys through the weekend, and many hours of quiet time reading, studying, and writing software for the next big thing. Alas, everything in this room seemed three sizes too small.

Though uncomfortable, Mark decamped into his parent's bedroom and king-size bed. He would be the house's last occupant, and there was no reason to squeeze into a twin bed when he had this alternative. Thankfully, this bed was also fitted with sheets and blankets.

The sun flooded the room and painted the walls with a yellowish hue. He walked to the window to see the backyard, overgrown and with a couple of breaks in the fence. He sighed, pulled his laptop from the bag, and began making lists of things to do and buy. His time in this house would not be over until it had sold.

The deck in the rear of the house had a handful of chairs and tables. Mark's parents entertained friends on this deck throughout his childhood, and the pieces had withstood the heat of summers and the dampness of winters with aplomb. Though he knew there was no food in the house, his father's well-stocked bar was likely still intact, and he made a beeline to it. With a drink in hand, he walked onto the deck and settled himself.

"Mark? Is that you?"

Mark turned in his seat to see a familiar face, though one he had no right to expect.

"Elizabeth?" Asked Mark as he stood. "I thought you had moved to Chicago. What a surprise!"

She walked from the neighboring house to his deck and met him with an embrace.

"My," she said, "aren't you all grown up!"

"Look who's talking," he said with a chuckle. "You look great. How have you been?"

"Can I sit?" She said, motioning to a chair.

"Of course," said Mark. "Wait. Let me get you a glass. Scotch OK with you?"

"Absolutely," she replied.

Mark retrieved a second glass from the kitchen, poured Elizabeth a drink, and refreshed his own.

"Now, how is it I find you here in Greensboro?" He asked.

Elizabeth Larsen scowled. "My marriage fell apart, then my mom's health began to fail. I needed a place to go, so I came home. I've been taking care of her for the last year or so."

Mark leaned in. "I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

She held the glass a little higher. "This helps," she said with a smile. "So that's why I'm here. What are you doing here? I thought you were in California?"

He shrugged. "I was this morning. Now I'm here. And, I guess I'm here for a while. Mom moved to Florida and assigned me to clean and sell the house. Lucky me," he said, taking a sip.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Don't you have to work?"

He laughed. "Never again." When she looked confused, he continued. "I started a company in San Francisco ten years ago. I just sold it. I'm now officially retired or unemployed, depending on who you ask."

"Did you drive here?" She asked.

"No," he replied. "I flew."

"Then where did that come from?" She said, motioning to the SUV.

"I bought that this afternoon on the way here from the airport."

Elizabeth chuckled. "Most people just take a limo, you know. They don't buy a car."

He rolled his eyes. "I knew I was going to be here for a while. I needed a car. Why wait?"

"What?" She said. "You write a check or something?"

"Just put it on my card," he said matter-of-factly. "That way, I get points."

They both busted up laughing at that. Then Elizabeth looked over her shoulder back to her mother's house. With a frown, she said, "I should check on her. I'd love to stay and catch up, but I don't like leaving her alone for long."

He nodded, then smiled. "I may have an idea. Can I stop by in a bit?"

"Sure," she said. "Mom would love to see you."

Mark dug through the basement until he found the treasure. Shelia had purchased a video baby monitor when her daughter visited the previous year. He hoped to repurpose it.

"Knock knock," he said at the Larsen's front door.

Elizabeth met him and waved him in. Millie Larsen, much more frail than the last time he saw her, sat in a recliner smiling.

"Oh my goodness," she said, "it's the Mitchell boy. It's been ages. Come in, come in. How have you been?"

Still holding the box, Mark sat next to Millie and said, "Hello, Mrs. Larsen, it's so good to see you. How are you? Is Elizabeth taking good care of you?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "I'm just getting old. I had some trouble last year. The next thing I know, I've got a full-time caretaker. Elizabeth is such a dear."

Elizabeth Larsen took a seat on the other side of her mother and held her hand. The family resemblance was obvious, but Mark was taken aback at Elizabeth's beauty. It had been seventeen years since his high school graduation and, therefore, twenty since hers, but her face still radiated sweetness and elegance as it had back then. Her hair still glistened in the light. And her smile could still melt his heart.

"I have something that might help everyone feel safer," said Mark. "Mrs. Larsen, I've got a high-tech patient monitoring system here that would keep you and Elizabeth in touch even if you were in different parts of the house. In fact, it would work even if Elizabeth were over at my house helping me. Would you like to try it?"

"Oh, my, you young people and your gadgets!" Millie said. "How does it work? What does it do?"

"Well," Mark said, opening the box, "we put this piece here with you. All you need to do is talk, and Elizabeth can hear you with this other piece. In fact, she can see you, too. It's like a video telephone."

"What will they think of next?" Millie said as she examined the camera unit. "And all I need to do is talk?"

"Yup," said Mark. "You could ask Elizabeth about lunch, or to bring you your pills, or, heaven forbid, tell her you're hurt and need help. I hope it makes everybody feel better and safer."

"Oh, you are a wonder," she said. "Come over here. I want to kiss you on the cheek."

Mark leaned in, and Millie gave him a peck. Then she waved a finger. "I thought you moved away? Why are you back?"

He retook his seat and said, "I did move away, but now I'm back for a while. I'll be doing some work around the house and have time to visit both of you."

"That's so nice," said Millie. "Elizabeth's been very sad since her divorce."

"OK, Mom, that's enough gossip for one night," said Elizabeth. "Let's let Mark finish setting up the new fancy stuff while we get ready for bed."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Larsen," said Mark.

"Goodnight, Mark. Thank you for the new thingamabob!" Replied Millie.

Elizabeth mouthed, "I'll be back in a minute."

"Take this," he said. "Just point the camera toward her and plug it in. We can test it before we leave."

Elizabeth's face appeared on the receiver a minute later, and Mark said, "Wave."

Elizabeth did, and Mark said, "Working great."

She said, "Coming out--"

Chapter 3: Reeling in the Years

They sat side-by-side in the Larsen's living room, watching the video from the baby monitor. When Millie coughed, and they could hear it through the receiver, they turned to each other and smiled.

"Want to get a refill on that Scotch?" He asked. She nodded, and they slipped out the back door.

He led her to the deck and into the kitchen. "It's a little chilly to sit outside," he said.

With drinks in hand, they sat on the loveseat and sipped their drinks, the baby monitor on the table before them. Millie coughed again, and they both grinned.

"I would have never thought of this," she said. "But it works great. Thank you. And thanks for the drink," she said as she tinged her glass to his.

"To old friends," he said.

He leaned back, and his face fell. "I'm sorry about your divorce. Do you want to talk about it? I can be a good listener."

Elizabeth put her drink on the table, took one last look at the monitor, and sighed. "It's not a very happy story."

He nodded but otherwise made no other movement.

"Maybe we could start with you," she said finally. "I might need to get through another drink before I say my piece."

Mark cleared his throat. "OK. Maybe it would be easier if we just started at high school and worked our way forward. Fair enough?"

She smiled and nodded at that.

"You were--" His eyes became unfocused, and they turned toward a corner of the room.

She tilted her head and waited.

"Sorry," he said, "just thinking back." He cleared his throat again. "This is the part where I make a fool of myself in front of the pretty girl," he said.

She smirked and tapped him on the arm. "Oh, go on," she said.

"You were a senior when I was a freshman. Remember? You were the quintessential girl-next-door, beautiful, tall, athletic, head cheerleader, homecoming queen, great student, read to the folks at the senior center, helped out at the food pantry, student council, everything. I was in awe. You seemed so grown up," he said.

"And you had a crush on me," she said, grinning.

"Just a small galaxy-sized crush, yeah," he said, chuckling. "I remember prom when you and Jake Thomson stood in front of your house for pictures. You were wearing that blue gown that perfectly offset your braided blonde hair, the single red rose on your left side, and that gold necklace with the diamond to round it out. I can still close my eyes and see that outfit."

Elizabeth shrugged, then snickered. She looked sheepish with the next. "You know, I lost my virginity to that asshole. What a fucking loser," she said, shaking her head.

They both broke up laughing. "You're shitting me!" He said.

"No," she said. "I don't know what was wrong with us back then. We girls just wanted to get our V-card punched, and it didn't really matter with who."

"Shit," he said. "You knew I was available."

"Stop it!" She said, laughing. Then she became serious. "He was the first of many bad choices in men. When I went to the university, I rushed and joined a sorority. We did lots of things with one fraternity, and though they treated us all like shit, we still slept with them. I finally got fed up when this jerk kept pressuring me to fuck him. All he wanted was a notch in the bedpost, so I gave it to him. Then I told my sorority sisters that he lasted a grand total of ninety seconds. The next thing I knew, he had a new nickname on campus: The Flash."

"Oh, man," he said, "that's brutal!"

She just grinned and sipped her drink.

"That was the last fling I had," she said. "I dated, but no more one-night stands, no more hooking up."

Mark smiled. "So you grew up a bit. Good for you."

She looked at him warmly. "You are very non-judgmental. And very kind. We're supposed to be talking about you, though, remember?"

"Ah," he said. "Well, in my defense, I like listening to you."

She waggled a finger at him.

"Right." He cleared his throat again. "Eventually, my neighbor with the Miss North Carolina looks went away to college, and I was left to fend for myself. I did all the things kids did, and maybe some things kids didn't typically do. I spent a lot of time with my computer programming it. I loved it. I loved creating things and solving problems. I loved making beautiful things on the screen. When I graduated from high school, I attended Chapel Hill and did my master's at USC."

She looked concerned. "Are there any women in this story? Or men?"

"Women, yes," he said. "There were just a few. I was too focused on school to be a good boyfriend. And I didn't have much money. I'm not saying college girls are materialistic because a couple of them I dated didn't care I was broke, but it didn't help things. When I was at USC, I was just too busy to think about dating seriously. And I'm not into hookups. So, I just put my head down and finished."

"Were you always that driven?" She asked.

"No," he said. "It kind of snowballed over time. Before I graduated, I had this cool idea. I decided to start a company to pursue it. All my buddies thought I was nuts. They said that salaries are through the roof, that this is a great time to put away some coin, and that the start-up thing could wait."

Elizabeth said, "That sounds like good advice. Why did you ignore it?"

"It is better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven."

"Milton," she said before sipping. "English literature major."

Mark nodded his appreciation and sipped. "I started the company, which killed any prospects for a relationship. I dated, but nothing came of it except meeting some nice women."

"And now the company has sold?" She asked.

"Yup," he said, stretching his back. "I'm here to take care of the house and maybe reassess my life."

She gazed into the baby monitor for a time. Mark watched her, concerned.

"We don't have to talk about your divorce," he said. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

She sighed. "This feels good," she said. "I've not talked to anybody but my Mom in months." She looked at him with a wan smile. "I met Stephen at a charity golf outing about ten years ago. He came from money and had movie star good looks. He treated me well, at least at first. But I didn't realize I was just the trophy wife accessory to his life. After we were married, things got harder. I said I wanted kids, but he didn't. Then, suddenly, he wanted kids, so we tried. After two years, he filed for divorce, claiming it was my fault we didn't conceive. He got great lawyers; I got mediocre ones. Long story short, he took me to the cleaners."

"Oh, god, Elizabeth," he said, touching her arm. "I'm so sorry."

"Want to know the kicker?" She asked. "He'd been having an affair with someone at work for years and had two kids with her. Before he said he wanted us to get pregnant, he supposedly took a business trip to the far east. As it turned out, he went to LA instead of Japan and got a vasectomy. Then he spent two weeks in Vegas eating room service and his mistress before coming home and hate-fucking me for two years. I got played."

Mark's mouth dropped open. "That's sick."

Elizabeth took a swig from her glass, then shook it, asking for a refill. "At least I know my lady parts might still be working. Bastard."

When Mark reseated himself, they sat quietly for a few minutes.

"Mark," said Elizabeth.

"Umm," said Mark.

"You're staring at me," she said with a small smile.

He chuckled. "Sorry. I was thinking about perception." She looked confused. He sat up straighter. "I'm seeing you here before me. You are not the girl who left high school; you are a beautiful grown woman. But when I look at you, I still see the young girl and you as you are now. Somehow I see both. Does that make sense?"