Living next door to Alice/Part 1
Living next door to Alice, part 1
I tried to focus on my work, but I couldn't. I was thinking of Alice. Again.
That happened a lot lately. Not surprising, really. Anyone who sees her will never forget her, never stop thinking of her. She is such a cute girl. She has a nice round face, moderately tanned, framed with dark hairs that she wears in two bunches, with cute pink butterfly clips. Her tan and dark hair draw extra attention to the light color of her her dreamy blue eyes. Her mouth is on the smallish side, making her appear younger than she is. Whereas the shape of early development on her chest, unusually advanced for her age, has the reverse effect. A ten year old girl, with the face of an eight year old and the chest of a twelve year old.
When I see her go by my house, I often am intrigued by her face. More often than not, she appears in deep thought, her face marked with a look of intense concentration. I don't know what she is thinking about. Or even whether she is actually in deep thought or just appears to be. But it does add a sense of mystery to her face. It intrigues me, makes me want to get to know her better.
Sometimes, not as often as I would like, I see her smile, or even laugh out loud. Those moments are a real treat. When she laughs, her whole face comes alive. She is one of those girls who cannot contain a laugh to just the mouth. When she laughs, her mouth opens and exposes two rows of perfect teeth; her eyes start to twinkle, sparkling with pure joy; and the dimples in her cheeks make her face even cuter than it already is. And when my window is open, I can hear her laughter too. No longer the high-pitched giggles of a few years ago. Still childlike, of course, but at a slightly lower pitch, sign of a maturation process kicking in. But still just as irresistible. I still remember, a few weeks ago, when I was working with the windows open and I heard her laughing. I didn't know where it came from, couldn't see her from my window, but I heard her laughter. And as it went on and on, just from the sound of it I felt my lips curl, felt a smile come to my face, noticed a chuckle brewing inside of me. She stopped laughing. I sat there for a long time, listening, watching, but she was gone. When I finally went back to work, I caught myself whistling a cheerful song.
Yes, I often think about Alice. But lately, I notice that my thoughts about her are changing. It used to be a quick, passing thought. A vision of her beautiful looks, her natural cheerfulness, her charming giggles. A short, passing thought, enough to rise my spirits, elevate me, and then I'd be back to work with a smile on my lips. But not anymore. I was worried.
I knew that Alice's parents worked hard. Not because they need to, I am sure they could handle the cost of living. But they wanted their daughter to have everything she desired, and that took an effort. Her dad is often away for days, and her mother makes long hours, perhaps even extra shifts, to make that extra bit of money. When Alice returns from home, I'd see her walk into a house I knew to be empty, and she'd be all by herself the entire afternoon. Not once or twice a week, but every single day.
I often wonder if modern society still makes the right choices. Is having enough money to buy every conceivable present really more important than having someone who is there for you after school, ready with a cup of tea and an open ear to how your day was? Or am I just an old-fashioned old fart who has failed to keep up with a changing society?
My worries had started when I noticed that I didn't hear her laughter as often anymore. The deep mystery of her thoughtful look was slowly but surely taking the upper hand over the worry-free laughter of a joyful child. Now that can of course be a perfectly normal development. As a child approaches puberty, it is not just their body that starts to change. Their mind, too, embarks on a long and wondrous journey towards maturity. And as part of that, innocent joy and laughter at the world around them can shift. As they gain more awareness of the bigger world, of the various threats to future existence, and of the dangers that lurk in unexpected places, it is natural that they go through phases of introspection.
But would she be able to cope with these worries and thoughts, all by her own? It would be hours before finally someone arrives that she can talk to, share her feelings. And with the long hours her parents work, do they still have the energy to give this maturing girl the attention she deserves? Or would they be tired, having only energy left to pop a microwave meal, down a beer, and then fall asleep on the couch, listening but not really listening to Dr. Phil's ramblings?
And what if she has actual problems, things she needs help with? Perhaps she struggles in school, fails to keep up with some classes, and just needs someone to help her understand math, help her memorize states and capitols. Or perhaps she feels rejected and misunderstood by her classmates. I was aware that she never got home late after playing with a friend, never brought a friend to her own home either. Being alone in school can be a very depressing feeling, imagine having to deal with it and not have anyone to talk to at home either!
Two weeks ago, I noticed a change in her pattern. She had run into Joe, her other neighbor, on the way to her door. They had chatted a while. It was a chilly day so my windows were closed and I didn't know what they were talking about, but it obviously had cheered her up. When they returned to their own houses, she was beaming all over, in a way I had not seen in a long time.
About a half hour later I saw Joe walk over to Alice's house, carrying a bag. Alice let him in and the door closed. I was happy for Alice. It seems she had decided to open up to Joe, and now he made himself available to her to talk more. This would allow her at least today to get things off her chest, to share whatever is on her mind with an adult.
I must add, I'm not sure Joe is the best choice for this. Don't get me wrong, he's a good guy. When he moved in I invited him over for a beer, and he returned the favor a week later. We had some good chats, but it was all very superficial. He has tight abs, sign of a lot of workout exercises. And he's not afraid to show it either. I must admit, I am envious of his good looks. But other than that … I don't know, let's just say he's nice, but a bit shallow. And perhaps a bit young to really understand and help a girl through her struggles with all the challenges of adolescence. But at least it's better than nothing, right?
I had opened the window and turned down my music. When I heard the door open, I looked out. I saw that Alice looked very happy, relieved. Good. Maybe I had misjudged Joe.
I must admit, I kept close tabs on things for a while. I know, I know, none of my business. But she is still a young girl, and being all alone makes her vulnerable. And though I didn't really expect anything bad from Joe (like I said, based on our two evenings together I have judged him to be good folk), I still felt that one extra pair of eyes never hurts.
For a few days, Joe's visits to Alice were a daily occurrence. Every time she would be visibly happy to see him, and every time she looked pleased and content when he left. Gradually I stopped paying attention. Whatever they were talking about in her home, it was obvious that it was just what she needed.
But then it stopped. I don't know exactly when, like I said, I stopped paying as close attention as I did before. But somewhere last week I noticed that Joe's visits to Alice had stopped. She once more walked home after school, every day, with that look of deep concentration on her face. Enter her home. And then be there, all by herself, the rest of the afternoon, sometimes even part of the evening, until her mother returned home.
Until two days ago. Two days ago, in the early evening, I saw her leave her house. She had changed out of her school uniform, into a nice combination of a white shirt, white stockings, and a dark gray dress. She left home, started walking towards Joe's house. Her face was even more concentrated then before. I saw doubt in her eyes.
She walked towards Joe's house, slowly. Stopped to think. Took a few more steps. Stopped again. Took another step forward, two steps back, then a step forward again. And then, abruptly, turned around, walked back to her own house, and closed the door behind her.
I couldn't stop thinking about this. Why had she wanted to go to him? Why had she been so apprehensive? What was she afraid of? It must have something to do with why his visits had stopped, I figured. Perhaps she had said something that had made him upset? And if so, then perhaps she was now on her way to apologize, but hadn't dared to take the final step.
Poor girl. I imagined her in her room. Crying, perhaps? Wanting to be comforted, hoping for someone to tell her it would be all right. As if the devil himself had planned this, her father is away the whole week, and her mother was home particularly late that day. I heard her car enter the driveway at eleven. I assumed that Alice would be asleep by now. Had she cried herself to sleep, or had she somehow managed to console herself first?
I couldn't decide what to do. Should I go next door, ring the bell, tell her mother what I had seen, what I think had happened? How would she respond? Would she give Alice the comfort she needed? Or would she be mad at her for allowing a stranger in the house? Would she allow her the sleep she needs and take some time off to talk the next day, or would she wake her now? Would she understand what's going on? Was she even still able to really connect to her daughter?
And what would she think of me? Would she think bad of me because I had been looking at her daughter more than most people consider normal? In the current age, accusations are easy to make, they make the headlines, and then when they are proven wrong nobody notices and the stigma remains.
Too many variables. Too many insecurities. I decided not to do anything. Not now. But I will keep a close eye on her, even closer than before. I will try to find a way to help her. Whatever she is dealing with, whatever her struggle, she should not have to face it alone.
It was not a coincidence that I saw exactly what happened yesterday. I knew what time she always gets home, so I had set an alert, a few minutes earlier. I saved my work, closed my laptop, made sure to sit where I could see through the window when she approaches. I don't know why, it was just a hunch, nothing more than a feeling, but I felt that I had to make sure not to miss a thing.
She returned home, in her school uniform. I don't know what school she is going to, but it never ceases to amaze me what her uniform looks like. So little fabric, so much skin … if the girls had worn such uniforms in my youth, then I'd never have passed the exam. All of my attention would have been with the girls, none with the teacher. But apparently, time has changed and uniforms that would have been forbidden on 18-year old cheerleaders in my days are now prescribed school attire for 10 year old girls.
Not even five minutes later, she left the house again. I guess that had been the time she needed to change, since she was now wearing a demure looking light blue and white dress. She wore no stockings today, no wonder since it was too darn hot outside. I saw her leave her house, turn towards Joe's house. Her face still showed signs of doubt, but her pace was much more decided. Without pause, she walked up to Joe's front door and rang the bell. I kept watching as Joe opened the door. He looked surprised, but not upset or mad. I hoped that they would be able to overcome whatever struggles they had. This girl deserved to have a person in her life that she could confide in.
I wanted to make sure that it would end okay. I could of course not go to Joe's house and eavesdrop, or ask. The only thing I could do was to make sure to see them when she leaves his house, look at their faces, their postures. See whether they looked happy, upset, angry, …
I grabbed a beer and sat on my porch. I had a magazine and pretended to read, while constantly keeping an eye on Joe's door. I really had no plans for what to do once Alice left that house, I'd have to play it by ear. It all depended on how she looked.
It took a long time. A really long time. By the time Joe's door finally opened, it was already late in the evening. My beer was warm and stale, just sitting there as an excuse. I had not dared go inside for another, too afraid I'd miss the moment when Alice walked back home.
I heard the creak of his door. I lowered the magazine just enough to be able to see, not enough to be obvious in case they'd look in my direction. I saw her leave the house, turn around to say goodbye. The door closed and she walked home. Or perhaps I should say, slouched home. Gone was her usual happy pace. She walked as if she was depressed. Or tired. As she got closer, I saw that her face was tired … exhausted even. I don't know what those two had discussed, why it had taken so long, but it must clearly have been exasperating. I tried to gauge her look, drill down through the layers. The upper layer was sheer tiredness, underneath that was her usual concentrated look. And below that … was she happy? disappointed? frustrated? No, none of these. The only emotion I could see was pride. Pride in finishing a difficult task she had set for herself.
That night I lay awake for a long time. Thinking. Thinking about Alice. About what I had seen, what might have happened.
It was clear that Joe had been a good friend for Alice, for a short time. But also that something had disturbed that. Alice had gone to his place to discuss this. That must have been a huge step, for such a young girl. But she had done it. Thinking about how she had overcome her struggle, found the courage to take that step, to go to Joe, and to work out whatever had happened … I didn't know I could feel so god damn proud of a girl that I don't even actually know!
But it also made me sad. Once more, she had had to overcome a struggle, a huge struggle, with no one to help. That's not a task a 10-year old should ever have to face! And it was not clear to me at all yet whether it had worked out. I had not seen relief or joy when she had returned home, as I would have expected it they had managed to repair their relation. But I also didn't see any disappointment or frustration at failing her task. Just the pride, obviously for finding the courage to step up to Joe, go to his place, and discuss whatever they needed to discuss. Pride, and of course exhaustion.
I lay awake until long after midnight. And then, finally, I made my decision. “Tomorrow,” I told myself, “tomorrow I will check again what happens. If Joe goes to Alice, or Alice goes to Joe, and if she looks happy, then I'm happy too. But if not, I will go to Alice and talk to her. This girl needs someone to talk to. Needs a shoulder to cry on. Needs strong arms to hug her. And, most of all, needs someone who can help her cope with everything that is going on in her life. That someone should, ideally, be their parents. But since they are not available, I'll take the task upon me. I will try to be a surrogate for them. If she lets me, of course.
Tomorrow I will help her.”
With that thought, I finally found sleep.
Continue to: Living next door to Alice, part 2 >> | << Return to: Table Of Contents << P.D. Vile's stories