Your oversized hat, your yellow dress that undoubtedly matches your lightly sun-kissed skin, the way your hands flip the pages of the pile of books that sit next to you; so delicate, so conscious. Oh, there you go, yes, please take off that ridiculous hat and turn my way. Oh my fucking god, you are gorgeous. Prettier than Beck and even more beautiful than Love. I could watch you all day everyday. Your face looks both young and mature at the same time, your eyes have seen some shit, haven't they? I can't tell your age, but who cares, I know you're probably wiser and definitely a goddess in bed. The soft highlights in your purposely unrefined curls and your bare face, natural beauty at its finest.
Ugh but that ring, who was the lucky man who locked you down? He's probably not as exotic and sexy as you, is he? And I bet he doesn't like to read books, you and him most likely have nothing in common. You're one of a kind. Yes, yes, I might have said that about Beck before, but fuck Beck, this woman is much more beautiful than she ever was and she's even married. Not that I find anything wrong with not being married but she obviously takes commitment very serious. I can tell by the way she dresses that she is faithful.
Which might be a problem... Ugh, no, no. I am not going back to saving somebody else. She probably doesn't even need saving from her boring life, her mundane husband, her lonely hang outs at the pool. She's happy and I should be happy too. I have Love and my baby girl on the way. I have to be a good father for her. I can't get distracted from what matters the most right now.
"Joey." I hear Love's voice calling me from the back door. Just in time to break me from the endless loop of predicaments in my head. I get away from the fence before she sees me contemplating this masterpiece next door.
"I'm coming" I say.
Oh Love, in her red dress, she leans against the door frame; waiting on me. Even at 6 months pregnant, she is still attempting to look sexy for me. I appreciate the effort but how can I look at her in any other way than for what she is. She is now a life carrier, a source of life, the water in the desert, the mother of my unborn child. I can't see her as more than that. Also, she killed somebody and that's just... weird. I'm sorry Love.
"Dinner is ready. I've made an amazing Cassoulet. I don't know if you've had it before. It's a French dish. I first learned to make it when I was in Castelnaudary, France. It's kind of like comfort food, I guess."
Love takes me by the hand and guides me to the kitchen bar. The pot full of whatever French dish she just made to impress me, stares back at me. It's exotic, just like the neighbor. Fuck, why am I still thinking about her? I concentrate on Love's hands touching mine, they're so soft, our baby is going to love your touch. She scoops a spoon full and feeds me.
"What do you think?" She asks widening her eyes. It tastes like beans and meat soup, it's so fucking hot outside for soup. I can't believe she still doesn't realize I don't like soups.
"Mmhhh, i love it! This has to be my favorite dish yet."
"It's one of my favorites too! Well, it's become one of my favorites. You know, I used to love spicy food but I can't stand it now. It's like being pregnant changed my tastebuds or something." She says it with such disappointment, as if being pregnant is a burden.
"I hope I get my taste back after she's born"
You know this is our baby girl, our miracle baby who's going to be good, way better than you and I will ever be. We are not going to ruin her. You, are not going to ruin her, Love.
"Well, it surely enhanced your cooking talent" I say as I give her an empty kiss on her forehead. She gives me a big smile, full of hope and serves me this nasty soup. I'm dreading it, but I'm a good husband, a good father, a good man. And this is what good men do, eat hot soups in hot California weather.
Before I scoop another taste of this boiling soup, the doorbell rings.
"I'll get it" I'm attempting to escape the soup. But nothing could have prepared me for the best surprise I have received since moving to the suburbs. There you are, standing right in front of me. With your messy curls, your summer dress, your bright eyes staring directly into mine. I feel the immediate connection, the air gets warm, chills run down my spine; please tell me I'm not alone in this.
"Hi! I'm Mila. I live next door." Mila, what a mysterious name. Is it Slavic? Irish? You had me before but now, I can hardly control myself.
"I just wanted to come introduced myself and welcome you to the neighborhood" You extend your hand and for the first time, our skin touches.
"I'm Joe" You are delicate and silky like the fresh petals of a lilac. You squeeze my hands with just enough force to let me know you're feeling the connection too.
"Hello" and here she comes. I hear Love's voice next to my hear. She breaks our moment. She extends her hand and fuck! Mila let's go of me and shakes Love's instead.
"I'm Love, Joe's wife." She says in an almost threatening way, she fakes a welcoming smile and looks at Mila up and down several times. I'm rolling my eyes in absurdity and now I have to break Love's rivalry.
"This is Mila, she lives next door. She came to welcome us to the neighborhood." And where the hell did that come from?
"I made a lemon ciambella, it's an..."
"An Italian pastry. I know. I've made a few myself before" Oh no, Love's insecurity is peaking high levels. She's surprised, probably just as much as I am that you bake.
You had a pastry with you all along? I must have missed it when I got lost in your eyes. But look at you, already full of pleasant surprises.
"I hope you like it. It's my grandmother's recipe" the way your lips move it's mesmerizing. You like to talk low and soft, eloquently, sophisticated but not snobby and... who's that sack of bohemian clothes?
"Hey there!" he says.
Yep, no doubt that must be my new nemesis.
"I got caught up letting my cat out. I'm Jason"
Your cat? Mila, why is he not including you in his sentence? He must be one of those, he likes "his space". Probably a lot of it and he gives you too much of that space. More than you need.
"I'm Love, nice to meet you"
Shit, I have to look happy to meet him.
"Joe. Thank you for welcoming us. Now a days it's a rarity to get to meet your neighbors."
He's such a hipster and I don't mean it as a complement.
"This neighborhood is really friendly. Everyone knows one another for the most part." You say in a reassuring voice. I hate jumping to conclusions, but this is a direct- indirect way of inviting me to hang out.
"How rude of us, please come in" I extend my hand to offer you my humble home. You hesitate but your hipster husband accepts the offer in seconds. Love gives me a side glance that I feel stabbing my temple. I ignore it.
I watch you walking from behind, so confident, ready for whatever comes your way. Your sweet smell of coconut sun block and orange scent lingers in the air as you pass me by. And as I get lost in the land of your smell and your beauty, Jason's hand touches your shoulder and is as if I feel it on mine. I am connected to your body already.
"Would you like some dinner?" Love says as she gives me another stabbing glance. She's pissed.
"Um.. " Jason spits out, but you interrupt.
"Actually, whatever you made, smells delicious" you complement Love because you know she's the chef here. Even if Love is pissed that you interrupted the first dinner at our new house, she's insecure and doesn't hesitate to show off her cooking skills.
"It's a cassoulet. A French dish. I can pour you some if you like" Love walks towards the kitchen.
"I'd love some." You follow her and I follow you with my eyes.
"Would you like anything to drink, Jason?" Love asks walking away.
"No, I'm good, thank you" he says and turns to look at me. Love finishes disappearing into the kitchen and now I'm stuck with hipster Jason.
"So" I initiate conversation, "how long have you two lived in this neighborhood?" I'm only asking because I want to get to know your history, Mila.
"About 3 years, it'll be 4 in December." He sits down on the couch, his pants raise a little above his brown Oxford shoes. "Are you guys from here?" he continues the conversation.
"Love is, I am from up north" a vague answer is always the best answer. I don't want you snooping in my past, I've learned from past mistakes. No pun intended.
"So, how long have you been married?" I steer the conversation.
"Three years. But we've been together for six... I met Mila in Cancun, I was there on spring break with a group of friends and she was there with a group of friends as well. We met at the beach and then we found out we both go to UCLA. I guess you can say we're college sweet hearts" he jokes and I laugh but internally I'm rolling my eyes. We both know you creeped on her and practically convinced her to be with you.
"You two make a good couple." I fake my flashing smile.
"How long have you been married?" He asks. Jesus he likes to fucking talk. I just want you to come back and realize I'm the one you should be with, not him.
"We just got married."
"Newly weds!?" Mila says out loud walking towards us. Your soft voice lingers in my ears and I can tell your intrigued about my life.
"Yeah, freshly married" Love smiles at me and you take a spoon full of the hot soup I've been avoiding to eat for dinner.
"Well, congratulations. Marriage takes a lot of effort but if you married your best friend, like I did" you sit next to your hipster husband and lightly bump heads together, "it's worth everything".
Love smiles, I smile. Love feels it but I don't. All I can think of is the way your legs cross, the shape of your mouth when eating and the way your eyes shrink when you smile.
"But it's super mportant to have friends outside marriage though" Jason barks and what an asshole.
Your head lowers, your eyes fixate on the bowl of soup and you're also thinking that he's an asshole.
"Of course, everything has to be balanced" Love agrees with him, she touches my leg, I touch her hand and I feel a little bad at the way Love stares at you. Half jealous and half sad.
"Joe and I are best friends. We discovered that we're pretty similar in a lot of ways. Right baby?"
What the fuck Love? If you're talking about what you did to Delila, no. Fuck no. I would have never killed her. You murdered her because you don't know how to plan and execute things. You're a dumb murderer and i am nothing like you. My passion kills. But your insecurities and lack of strategic logistics, is what makes you the worst kind of murderer.
"Yes, we are very similar. Like two pieces of a puzzle" I lightly squeeze Love's hand. You see it and give me a wholehearted side mirk. You want to feel the same kind of affection, deep, pure, genuine affection. Jason's phone pings, he begins texting.
Jesus Christ, he types a million words per second. He loves to be on his phone, doesn't he? And who is he texting so much? It's Saturday night, he should be dedicating his full entire attention to you and only you.
You finish eating.
"This was delicious. I wish I could cook half as good as this"
I stand up almost by instinct. "Here" I extend my hand and grabbed the empty bowl.
"No, no. I can put it away".
But I insist. You stand up, you hand casually rubs against mine.
"Tyler is on his way. He wants me to go downtown with him." Jason acts like a single college kid, expect he's not. He's not in college and he is married, to you!
"Right now?" you look at him and then you look at Love and I. You seem embarrassed but Jason seems pumped to go.
"You know how he is. He needs me there."
"Ok." You say in a low voice. You are exhausted, defeated. Your failed attempt to meet another couple to whom you and your loser husband can hang out was shut.
"Well, i gotta run, but again welcome to the neighborhood!"
Did he just say he has to run? He totally ignored you in his sentence, again. He doesn't take you into consideration for anything. You can't be with someone like that, you deserve more than his lack of awareness and consciousness towards you.
"Thank you and thank you for desert." Love says to you. I hold the bowl in my hand as I watch you die a little and shy away slowly.
"I hope you enjoy it." You turn one more time as you walk towards the door. We make eye contact for the last time. I smile and this time you know I'm craving you.