The Neighbor

Photo by Tom Rumble on Unsplash 

As the ambulance approached my neighbor’s house, I wondered who it was picking up.  I hoped it wasn’t Mr. Cooper.  He was the only neighbor who understood me, much less talked to me.  Everyone else on the street often pretended I didn’t exist and often crossed the street if we were walking toward one another.  Dismally, I wished the ambulance was picking up Mrs. Stanton.  She was the gossip of the street.  The backstabbing neighbor.  The nosy neighbor who watched and reported on everything to the HOA.  Once Mr. James got a written warning for collecting his newspaper in his bathrobe.   

I often replayed scenarios in my head as to why she had turned out as mean as she was. As the ambulance stopped between her house and Mr. Cooper’s house, I turned away.  I started walking toward downtown so I could visit the local library. There had to be some information on Mrs. Stanton’s past because there was no way she just ended up this way, treating people like she did. Mr. Garza, the librarian, and I went way back to my childhood days of the summer reading program and I knew he could tell me exactly where to look to find information on Mrs. Stanton’s past. Two hours later, I emerged back into the sun only to find a little hope for Mrs. Stanton. Her parents had arranged her marriage, leaving her lover to marry someone else. I just needed to find him. And bring him home.