Date: Sat, 9 Dec 2023 11:19:12 +0100 (CET)
From: karcamel@tutanota.com
Subject: Old hobby, new spice  part 4

OLD HOBBY, NEW SPICE

6

The neighbor's woman worked on a very irregular schedule. I didn't know
what she did and didn't even feel like asking. My work is also very varied,
so the opportunity to meet Nicky with time for more than a few words was
nonexistent. I'm sure you can understand that I would've loved the chance,
but things don't always turn out the way the story says. Until Friday came,
and I met my neighbor.

   "Hello, Mr. Parker, it's good to see you. How are you?" she greeted me
politely.

   "Thanks, I'm fine. It's been busy enough, too busy even. But now that
it's the weekend, I will really relax." I replied formally.

   "Would you like to have a drink tonight?"

   The lady next door began to flirt with me. I didn't believe my ears.

   "I assume Nicky's somewhere else?"

   "No, Nicky's home."

   "Sorry. I'd rather not have a drink in front of the kids." I wouldn't
have minded having a few to drink, but I wasn't as interested in her as her
offspring. "Thanks for inviting me, but maybe another time."

   The woman looked at me, perhaps a little submissively, which made me
feel guilty.  However, I felt no responsibility for anyone's well-being and
didn't really mind spending time with her. She seemed nice, but I was
thinking of something else, where I wanted to go.

   Responsible, casual, invisible. Just an ordinary guy from the
neighborhood. That's who I had been for the past 45 years, and suddenly, I
was something completely different. Why all my feelings and thoughts, even
about eroticism, had suddenly changed, I couldn't understand. In fact, for
45 years, I had lived the life of a very ordinary man. I wasn't unique in
any way; I never had children or married.  I was an ordinary man who worked
hard, paid his taxes, and was gray.

   I lived in this house for ten years and have seen everything. But
nothing interested me in anything special; everyone minds their business in
a block of flats. Everything would have been the same if I hadn't thought
of starting swimming again. I wouldn't have been sparked into something I
didn't expect or know about myself. One minute, I could be cursing it, and
the next, I could think about what it would bring me. I hadn't felt
anything for many years, and now I was filled with feelings.

   On Friday, the lady next door was a little tipsy. I would have liked to
see Nicky, but not in that situation. Slowly, I began to believe that what
had happened was a dream, or if not a dream, then something that would
never happen again.  An opportunity that was and was gone. Saturday brought
a new situation. The lady next door wanted to see me again.

   "Nicky liked to play with you... or, I mean, he liked to play and, well,
he liked... He had a lot of fun."

   "Please settle down, Ma'am. What's going on?" I asked.

   "Well... it's about my work. I would rather not tell more about it. I'm
new to the job and..." The woman's speech came fast and furious. "I've
never been on call before, and I thought I wouldn't be now because I'm told
no one else has been before either..."

   "Now, really, calm down!" I said to the woman who was out of her
mind. She looked at me and calmed down a bit.

   "I have a new assignment. I don't understand why this happened now; my
charge said this hasn't happened in thirty years on anybody's shift".

   I certainly had no idea that the lady next door might have a job that
included secrets.  Then it occurred to me that he might be on duty at a
government office or just as well as an elevator repairman, and someone had
gotten stuck.

   "Could you be more specific? What's this all about?" I asked the woman,
who seemed to be in a panic.

   "Oh shit. I've got Nicky! Why did I take this job? Why did I agree to be
on call?  I'm a damn greedy idiot!"

   "Don't worry; Nicky can come to me if you need to go." I had no way of
knowing what event had caused such panic, but for the woman, it seemed to
be a matter of life and death. I thought she was overreacting a little.

   "Really? Nicky would like to play. Wait, I'll take this call." She said
and answered the phone, which was ringing loudly. She repeated a few words
I couldn't hear because her back was turned to me. I wasn't really
interested in what she said; I was more interested in whether her son would
stay with me overnight.

   "Where is he now?" I asked. "Home?"

   "No, Nicky is... Matt... Brett... I don't know. He's finally made some
friends; I don't remember their names. Fuck this! I'm a lousy mother. I
really shouldn't panic." The woman waved her hands to give herself a
chill. "I'm in a hurry. I'm in a big hurry."

   "Does he have a phone?" I asked.

   "Of course... wait..."

   She gave me the number, and I stored it on my phone.

   "I have no idea how long it will take me to get back home." Her
expression was serious and worried. "I'd really rather not put that kind of
responsibility on you.  I'm happy you want to help, but I don't know how
long it will take me. One thing is for sure: it'll be more than night
anyway."

   "Nicky can hang out with me as long as it takes," I said, not even for
my own benefit but to reassure the woman who had some new situation.

   "I can ask someone else to look after the boy."

   "Believe me, ma'am; there's no need for anyone else right now. You have
your job, and your kid will sleep behind the wall of your own home the next
night. What could be safer?" I said rather emphatically. The woman looked
at me with an expression full of relief and appreciation. In the midst of
all that panic, she saw that the little one would be in good hands.

   A car pulled into the driveway. The lady stepped inside, and just before
the car disappeared around the corner, she called out from the open window
to take care of her little prince. And I promised.

   I had an intelligence agent, or elevator caretaker, next door. The
elevator repairer can usually estimate how long the job will take, and the
agents can go all the way to China. The agent and the maintenance man may
have shifts on call, but the other's job only lasts a few hours. No black
cars are used to pick up elevator repairmen. Nicky's mother wasn't just
your average lady next door, that was sure.  Maybe.

   I called Nicky and asked him to come to the homeyard. He wondered how
I'd gotten the number, although it sounded like he was happy with it. He
came with two of his friends. One was a head taller than him and looked
like a fucking idiot; the other was shorter and looked like a fucking
criminal. I thought, 'Well, that's the kind of camaraderie.' I looked at
the guys with the dirty clothes.

   "Nicky, great to see you again," I started.

   "Yep," he replied curtly. Strangely short. Even rude.

   "Your mother got busy at work and asked me to look after you."

   "Okay."

   "Ok? Your mother was terrified; she didn't know what to do with you."

   "And now you're taking care of me, I presume?"

   "That's what I promised to your mother."

   "But you didn't ask to be with me until now," he said, with shocking
harshness for a ten-year-old.

   "What? I haven't had time. I couldn't." I looked at the boy in amazement
and at the duo behind him, who didn't fit the boy's habit in any way. "Who
are those guys?"

   "Friends."

   "They don't look genius."

   "So what? I just moved here. I don't have any friends; how am I supposed
to pick my friends?"

   The comment shut me up. How was I qualified to judge anyone's
friendships?  How would I know how good someone would or wouldn't be? I was
drawing conclusions based on looks alone, but somehow, it felt strange.
Then I realized that such a judgment of someone's friends wouldn't have
even occurred to me unless it was someone who mattered. I was like a father
telling his son, 'You don't play with that one.' I realized I cared about
him quite a bit.

   "Let's go inside?"

   "Okay."

TO BE CONTINUED

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karcamel@tutanota.com