Old Neighbor

Mark looked over her shoulder to her mother's house. "Um, Elizabeth?"

She took another deep drag and nodded. Then she closed her eyes. "My Mom is watching through the window, isn't she?"

"Yup," said Mark, then shouted, "Hello, Mrs. Larsen."

Millie shook her head and then vacated the window.

"Shit shit shit," said Elizabeth.

Mark shrugged. "Well, you might as well enjoy your cigarette, she knows. But the good news is that you no longer need to hide it from her."

Elizabeth chuckled. "Oh, you're a big help."

"Kiss me," he said. "I need to pack."

They stood, embraced, and kissed. "I'll see you in a few days," he said.

Elizabeth finished her smoke and came in through the back door. Her mother met her in the kitchen with two iced teas on the table.

"I'm sure there's a story," Millie said. "So tell it."

Elizabeth sat on Mark's deck smoking while she checked her phone. He had texted her flight information, and she was refreshing her screen to watch it depart. When his plane was in the air, she felt completely alone.

She both hated her cigarettes and wanted another one. They were a reminder of betrayal, a failed marriage, a home filled with hate, and an empty womb. The last was most decidedly not her fault, or at least not completely. The pangs of inadequacy punched her in the darkness. Had she been so naïve as to believe he was faithful all those years? No, of course not. But she chose to ignore the signs, the late-night calls, the last-minute trips, and the mysteries of their finances. Her life was comfortable. She had sold out and had paid the price for it.

Her mother was right to ask all those questions. Why Mark, and why now? What was it about him that made her fall so hard? Was it just that he accepted her fully, as she was, without doubt or hesitation? Or was there something more? If Mark has made her feel worthwhile again, restored her confidence, and shown her a path to happiness, why does she continue to lean on the cigarettes?

Elizabeth lit another, feeling filthy for it. She hated them so much when she started, but she hated Stephen more. Watching him cringe with every puff, complain of the smell and the full ashtrays, and even the film on the windows felt like a victory. She pointed out that his card games and cigars with friends did damage, too, but those blows never seemed to land. The more helpless she felt, the more she smoked.

Mark's flight had now left North Carolina and aimed west. She stubbed out her cigarette, swore it would be her last, and knew that was a lie.

Chapter 8: The Two Larsens

Millie Larsen had a bad spell last year, but her health has improved significantly. Elizabeth's arrival after her divorce gave her purpose and a renewed sense of belonging. But as Millie's health improved, she needed far less care than Elizabeth could provide. She really wasn't needed anymore, and that thought hollowed her out.

Sunshine from the window fell onto her small desk, a holdover from her high school days. The room was a time capsule of her life, a moment frozen in time as though the last twenty years never happened. Dust motes danced in the light, silvery and gray, while she lay there, her mind a blank, with only the sound of her mother descending the stairs breaking the spell.

Millie was in the kitchen when Elizabeth appeared.

"Sit," said Millie.

Elizabeth began to protest, but her mother raised her eyebrows, a signal from childhood that she would not be repeating herself. Elizabeth sat.

With a spatula in hand, Millie spoke. "I thought a lot about our conversation last night. I wish you would have told me your marriage was so awful."

Elizabeth opened her mouth, but no words came.

"I know," said Millie, "you were embarrassed. That's nonsense, of course, but understandable."

Elizabeth could only nod.

"When you came to help me a year ago, I was in a bad way," Millie said. "I needed the help and appreciate everything you did for me. But you don't seem to understand that I'm better now. I've dropped hints that I don't need constant attention, but they've fallen on deaf ears."

"Mom--"

"Hush! This is how I see it: you came here right after your husband dumped you. It made you feel needed again, but more importantly, it meant you didn't need to think about your divorce. So, two things went wrong here. One: You became the parent taking care of me. And two: you never took time to grieve your loss."

"Nobody died," said Elizabeth with more than a little snark in her voice.

Millie put her hands on her hips. "Loss can be many things. Your marriage ended, as did your innocence. That bastard was more cruel to you than I could have imagined. It's hard enough to trust people, but once you've been kicked in the teeth, you never quite trust the same way again. One of the things that made you such a wonderful girl is your ability to see the good in people. That part of you got banged up in all this."

Elizabeth hung her head.

Millie paused for a moment and watched her daughter. There was a sniffle but nothing more.

"So, things are going to change around here," said Millie, continuing her monologue. "I'm officially retaking my role as the mother. I thank you for all you did. I needed help from you when I was sick, but you patched me up."

There were nods from Elizabeth but no eye contact.

"Second, and this one hurts my soul. You have lost your way," said Millie. "You're afraid you're not worthy of a man's love, that you'll just make another mistake, and that it's too late to have a family of your own."

"Christ, Mom!" Shouted Elizabeth.

"This is a day for hard truths," said Millie. "The problem here is your confidence has been shattered. You latched on to Mark because he valued you, but you'll never keep him until you value you."

Elizabeth blinked, parsing her mother's words.

Millie sat next to her daughter. "I love you. And to me, the stars will always rise and set in your eyes. But you have to love yourself again, or you'll never be happy, even if Mark comes back and sweeps you off your feet. Maybe take baby steps first. Mark sees the wonderful person you are. Maybe you should believe him."

It was too much to hope Mark would take the meeting and hop on the next flight back to North Carolina. It had been three days since the aborted dinner and not a word since. Elizabeth stood in the kitchen gazing out the window to Mark's deck and driveway, wishing for his car to appear, but her wish was not granted.

Millie checked on her, but after several rounds of advice were dispensed about being patient, she kept her counsel to herself. The young people would need to work this out on their own.

The day for "hard truths" had hit hard, but Elizabeth accepted one thing from it: she had not grieved the loss of her marriage. The time for hurled accusations and bile had passed. Stephen could no longer hear her words or see her rage. He had a new family with a wife and two children. He had moved on. It was time for her to process what had happened and move on, too.

Chapter 9: The Return

Elizabeth returned from an errand to find Mark's new car in his driveway. She ran to his deck and knocked on the back door. Just as she was about to give up on the idea, Mark appeared wearing only running shorts and drying his hair with a towel. He slid open the door with a grin.

"Hello, you," he said. "Come in."

She stepped through and stood before him. "You didn't call or even text," she said.

"Um, yeah, I'm sorry," said Mark. "I'm not good about stuff like that."

She whacked him on the arm. "Not good about stuff like that? What the hell does that mean? What was I supposed to think? You running back to San Francisco like that, ghosting me, not a word, and me sitting here like an idiot school girl by the phone."

Mark stood gripping the towel draped around his neck, a look of contrition on his face as he hung his head. "Time sort of got away from me," he said. "It's not an excuse. That was shitty of me. I kept thinking, 'Just one more errand,' and I'll go home. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I never wanted to go back to San Francisco. I wanted to come back to the east coast, North Carolina, and--" He took a deep breath. "And to you."

Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest. "You should have called. I've been sitting here thinking I was an idiot, just some old fool that threw herself at a man in a moment of weakness."

He sighed, released the towel, and held his arms out. "I'm so sorry, Elizabeth. I was busy every moment, but I never stopped thinking of you." He stepped forward and brought her into an embrace.

She pounded her fists on his chest. "Right," she said. "Some used-up old frumpy bitch that lives with her mother, some old pathetic neighbor girl. Bullshit." She was crying now, the pounding slowed, and she stopped struggling.

Mark carefully pulled her closer, laying his head on hers and rubbing her back. "I missed you," he said in a whisper.

"Not enough to call," she said through her tears.

"I promise to make it up to you," he said, pulling her to him and holding her tight.

After a time, her crying stopped, and she wrapped her arms around Mark's back, holding him.

"Baby?" Said Mark.

"Mmmm."

"What's it mean: frumpy?" He said.

Despite her best efforts not to, she snickered and used a fist to gently hit his back one last time. Then they both began laughing. He released her from the embrace and bent to kiss her.

"I'm going to get dressed," he said. "We have a busy day."

"We?" She said, looking confused.

"All of us," he replied. "Go make sure Millie is dressed and ready for travel. She's coming, too."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Why is Mom going?"

"This concerns her, too," he said. "I'll explain on the way." Then he shivered. "It's chilly in here. I need to get dressed. Meet me by my car in a half-hour."

She threw up her hands. "OK," she said, "more mysteries."

The three of them arrived at a large estate about thirty minutes away. A stone wall surrounded the large property, with well-tended landscaping and healthy trees scattered throughout, providing shade. Mark followed the circular driveway to the front entrance, where a well-dress woman waited. When they stepped out, the woman greeted them.

"Hello," she said, "you must be Mr. Mitchell. I'm Margret Mills."

"Call me Mark, please, and this is Elizabeth and her mother Millie Larsen."

"My pleasure," she said. "Please call me Margret. Shall we begin?"

Margret walked through the double doors in the foyer and began her spiel.

Mark interrupted. "I'm so sorry, but could we begin with the mother-in-law suite?"

Taken aback, the realtor said, "Yes, of course, if you like," and she walked to the back of the large house.

After passing through a breezeway with bright windows on the walls and doors on each end, they arrived at something akin to a home within a home. The breezeway led to a spacious living room with a kitchen and a three-season porch in the distance. A door to an attached garage painted red and a spiral staircase of light oak led to the second-floor bedrooms accented the large space.

Millie broke from the group and traversed the periphery, wall by wall, window by window until she had circled through the kitchen and back again to the group.

Dazed, Millie said, "What a lovely home! The view from that sunroom must be amazing."

"It is," assured Margret, "and it's usable nearly year-round."

"Would you be comfortable living here?" Asked Mark.

Millie guffawed. "I could never afford a place like this," she said.

Mark shrugged. "I'm not going to charge you rent, Mrs. Larsen."

"What?" Said Millie and Elizabeth simultaneously.

Mark nodded to Margret and said, "I'll take it for the amount I offered. I'll call my lawyer, and he'll handle everything. I'd like to close as soon as possible. Since we're paying cash, that shouldn't be a problem, right?"

"No," the realtor said as she stood just a smidgen taller. "Thank you, Mr. Mitchell." Turning to the Larsen women, she said, "It was lovely meeting you. I think you'll be very happy here." With that, Margret Mills slipped out. Once you get to 'yes,' don't give people a chance to change their minds.

Elizabeth was first to speak. "What just happened?"

Mark looked sheepish, shrugged, and said, "Surprise?"

"Did you just buy this house?" Asked Millie.

Catching his breath, Mark said. "I did. Mrs. Larsen, this can be your home if you want it." Turning to Elizabeth, he said, "I know this is sudden, but I had a lot of time to think. I've waited my whole life for someone like you. Here you are. I know you've been through some stuff. I can't begin to imagine the hurt you've suffered. And you can take as much time deciding as you need. Elizabeth, marry me. Live with me in this house. Let's have a kid or two. I've postponed happiness for too long. I want you in my life. Please think about it."

Silence fell over the room, with Elizabeth frozen and Mark waiting for any kind of response. Finally, Millie poked a stubby finger into Elizabeth's arm and made a motion with her hands, meaning, "Well?"

Elizabeth, stunned, said, "Are you sure?"

Millie rolled her eyes.

"This sure," said Mark, and he dropped to one knee and held up a ring.

Chapter 10: A Fresh Start

The three of them shopped for furniture for the next few weeks. Mark still worked around his mother's house, mowed both lawns, mended fences, painted and cleaned, and kept his mother informed on his progress.

Elizabeth helped him at every turn, getting just as dirty and happy as Mark. She paused once to see her future husband. He worked hard and took pride in all he did. This was the kind of man she had been looking for, not some pompous ass impressed with himself who ordered around underlings to do the work for him. If only it had been this clear ten years ago.

There came a day when Elizabeth was to break out a new dial of birth control pills. Mark put his hand over hers. "I don't think we need those, do you?"

She became wide-eyed. "You want to start trying now? I thought you'd want to be newlyweds for a while."

He shrugged. "If you want to wait, that's fine. But let's have kids soon."

She slipped the pills back into a drawer. Then she held his hand and walked him downstairs to the kitchen.

Millie said, "What are you two up to?"

"Mom," said Elizabeth, "why don't you go furniture shopping."

Millie stretched, leaning back in her chair, and said, "Oh, no, dear. I'm kind of tired."

"Then go antiquing," said Elizabeth sharply, rolling her eyes.

"Oh!" Said Millie. "Yes, I was going to go antiquing. You two have a nice evening. I'm going to go visit Ginny afterward. I won't be home until late."

With that, Millie stood, winked so that only Elizabeth could see, and collected her things. The two lovebirds went back upstairs.

"What was that about?" Said Mark.

"Privacy," she said. "Subtle, huh."

"I feel like we just kicked your college roommate out of your dorm room for the night," he said.

"Yeah," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, "and for the same reason."

He kissed her, then whispered in her ear, "I don't mind things being messy."

"I'm not messy yet," she said, her hand on his belt.

She kissed him, then sunk to her knees, pulling hard on the belt and roughly unbuttoning his jeans. When the zipper fell, she dragged jeans and boxers to the floor in a single sharp pull. His cock bobbed before her face as he stepped out of his clothes.

"We're going to make babies, you and me," she said to the growing flesh. "And you're going to help," she whispered to the ball sack as she hefted his nuts. She rolled them gently as she sunk her mouth onto his cock.

Mark threw his head back and moaned. "Fuck," he said. He dropped his head again to watch her jacking his cock, spinning her fist on his shaft, and slobbering loudly to keep it moist. Though she was fully dressed, he watched her tits thinking, "This is a trophy wife blowjob."

She pulled off his shaft long enough to look up, smile, and whisper, "fuck my mouth."

With one hand on his balls and the other on his ass, encouraging him to thrust, begging for that mouthful of cock, she felt him slide his prick to the back of her throat and withdraw, riding on her tongue, head teased by her teeth and lips. With each cycle, he brought his cock head to her throat before withdrawing again.

Then she bobbed her head on each thrust, driving his cock deep into her throat. Both hands now find themselves on his ass, pulling, begging, demanding that each thrust bottom out with her lips brushing against pubic hair, her tongue licking his ball sack.

He held her head, worried it would be too much, but she hummed and pulled on his ass harder. He fucked her skull, his balls banging into her chin, boiling, burning, yearning for release.

"I'm going to cum!" He said.

If anything, the declaration made her pull harder, suck him deeper, and bob faster. When she felt the first jet, she backed off, grabbed his cock with one hand and his ball sack with the other, and jacked him hard, sucking, swallowing, humming, and licking.

When he had finished, she pushed him onto the bed and flung herself atop him, kissing him deeply.

"I want to have your babies," she said. "You are so fucking hot!"

He kissed her and ran his fingers through her hair, his other hand running from the middle of her back to her ass. He said, "I am very glad your mother likes antiquing," before kissing her again.

When she finally let him up, they carefully undressed each other and climbed into the small bed.

"Another fantasy come true," she asked, looking at the posters in her room.

He shook his head. "It never dawned on me to dream of fucking you in your own room," he said.

She became serious. "Mark--"

"Uh oh," he said.

She put a finger across his lips. "I'm serious. You asked me to marry you. I want to say yes, but I'm nervous. Will you talk to me about it?"

He nodded. "Ask anything," he said.

"We knew each other as kids, but we hardly know each other as adults. I asked if you were sure. Are you?"

He propped himself on an elbow and said, "Answer me honestly. Are you still the same person deep down that you were growing up? I know we've both grown and changed, and we both have some miles on us from the things we've gone through, but you are still the level-headed, hard-working, smart, cheerful, funny, beautiful person you were when we were kids. I believe that. I think I see that. Am I wrong?"

Her eyes slid off him to a neutral corner of the room. "Mom said I've lost confidence in myself. She's probably right. I'm still screwed up from my divorce. I want to believe everything you said, but there's a dark spot in me that doubts. Does that make sense?"

"More than you know," he said. "But do you believe me when I tell you I can see past it? I know you need time to heal. You've gone through monstrous things. But I want to be there for you. I want to always be there for you."

She nodded. "Mom said I've not taken time to grieve my loss, the death of my marriage, and maybe my self-esteem. I let that bastard walk all over me. God, am I really that big of a sell-out?"

He pulled her chin so she would look into his eyes. "You tried to save your marriage by looking the other way. For some wives, that works. It didn't for you. Even if you'd stopped things sooner, you'd still be here grieving. Marriage isn't just a promise to another person; it's a promise to yourself. Maybe you feel like you broke a promise to yourself. Breaking those kinds of promises hurt worse than any other."

"I'm ashamed of who I became," she said. "I was a five-star bitch, angry, vindictive, just short of 'keying his car' kind of pissed off. I fucking lost my mind."

"You are not a sell-out, and you're not a bitch. Any animal or person hurt the way you were would lash out. Anyway," he said with a smile, "you being a bad bitch is kind of hot."