The New Neighbor by Ray Garton Read Free Book Online Page B

he went down to the kitchen and asked Karen, "Where'd Robby go?"  
    "Across the street to help that woman arrange her furniture and unpack."  
    "Oh. And Jen?"  
    "At Al and Lynda's."  
    Al and Lynda Crane had twins Jen's age – a boy and girl – and if she wasn't at their house playing or eating with them, they were at hers.
    "Aren't they going to eat?"  
    "Jen's eating with the twins and I guess that woman's going to cook dinner for Robby." She removed two plates from the cupboard and set them down in front of the fat white Oster food processor.  
    "Oh?" George stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Then we're alone this evening?" After the thoughts he'd had while trying to sleep the night before, he'd felt horny all day.  
    The microwave beeped and Karen pulled away from him to take out the food.  
    Figures , George thought, a little surprised by the bitterness he suddenly felt. "What's for dinner?"  
    "Chicken."  
    He watched as she dished up the chicken and vegetables. She was frowning, as if she were angry about something.  
    "You're staring," she said. "What's wrong?"  
    "You looked upset, is all."  
    "Oh. Well, I'm just ... don't you think it's strange, George?"  
    "What?"  
    "That woman – “  
    "She has a name, you know."  
    " – asking Robby over like that. Cooking dinner for him."  
    "What's strange about that? She needed the help and she wanted to do something for him in return. That's all."  
    Still frowning, she shook her head. "I don't know."
    "What, you think she's going to seduce him?"  
    "I just ... thought it was strange," she muttered. "That's all."  
    George took his dinner in the living room and turned on the news. Through a two-inch opening in the curtains over the front window, he could see the lights in Lorelle Dupree's windows across the street. Two silhouettes moved back and forth inside.  
    With a smirk, George wondered if maybe Karen was right. Robby wasn't a bad looking kid. He was no jock, but he wasn't a geek, either. For all George knew, maybe Lorelle Dupree was the Mrs. Robinson type, the kind of woman who liked to break in young men. He closed his eyes and imagined her with his son, both of them naked. He imagined the sounds Robby would make as Lorelle introduced him to things about which he'd only fantasized, and he wondered if Robby would be as overwhelmed as he had been the first time. As the image crystallized, became vivid, George's smile dissolved. He turned to the television again as Karen came into the room with her dinner and sat across from him on the sofa.  
    She wore a simple blue shirt-dress, no stockings, barefoot, makeup washed off. Yet she looked no less attractive than she had that morning, freshly made up and dressed, on her way to work. She watched the television without looking at him and he watched her, trying to relax and get that feeling back, that feeling of ... ease. He wanted to put down his plate and go to her, nuzzle her neck and curl up on the sofa with her. But he knew better.  
    Monroe was coming.  
    The cat crept out from under the end table, lifted his bulk onto the sofa and placed his front paws on her thigh to peek over the edge of her dinner plate. She smiled as Monroe touched his nose to each piece of food on the plate.  
    George turned away from his wife as he winced disgustedly, then looked again to see Karen passing a hand over Monroe's orange fur as the cat curled up on her lap. George remembered when he and Karen used to eat dinner together, sitting close, touching one another, often exchanging smiles. He had been replaced by the cat. They used to lie on the floor together, too, curled up on pillows to watch television. Now she curled up with Monroe, and George didn't dare get too close to the cat for fear of being clawed. It was something he'd always tolerated, but over the years, it had become more and more difficult.
    As Monroe began to purr, George's eyes returned to the opening of the curtains,