Continued from Challenge #35…
The next day Flora got up early and sat on the window seat wrapped in her comforter watching and waiting. She had done this habitually throughout her confined life. She knew all the comings and goings of the neighborhood. For example, she knew that Mr. Greenwood left the house for work at 7:35 every weekday except Friday, sipping a metal to-go cup. He wore suits on Tuesdays. His wife, who worked at home, went grocery shopping on Wednesdays and Saturdays. A girl named Tenesha with black ringlets and a very “in” wardrobe who lived down the street out of Flora’s view arrived at Maddy Fischer’s house around 8:20, and the two of them walked, chittering loudly about fourth grade boys toward Kennedy Elementary School. The garage door opened at Maddy’s house at 9am, when Mrs. And Mr. Fischer pulled out in their Subaru.
Flora knew who was punctual and who was always scrambling to get somewhere. She saw neighbors pick their noses, scratch their crotches, walk by windows naked, fart, the stuff humans all naturally do that we’re supposed to stupidly hide.
This morning Flora’s spying felt more invasive than usual as she watched Jake’s house. She couldn’t deny the reason. It was her heart-squashing, soul-yanking, painfully impossible crush on him. Nothing could ever come of it. She knew that. But how do you control these things? She saw herself withering away, a modern-day Jane Eyre.
“No.”
She slapped herself lightly on the cheek, a reminder. Given all of her ailments, she had decided long ago there was no place for self-pity in her life. And she wasn’t about to do it now. She’d just have to get over him.
And this was one way. If she could catch Jake DiMeola farting or scratching his crotch or throwing a rock at a squirrel, anything unbecoming, she’d see he wasn’t her Kouros, her Pygmalion-esque dream, her Darcy.
Tenesha appeared, today in a short plaid, pleaded skirt. Maddy came out to meet her and the two plodded down the sidewalk.
The minutes ticked away. At 8:30, a blue Chevy Spark pulled into Jake’s driveway. The woman was late again. She pulled an oversized purse from the backseat onto the pavement, tied up her hair, and hurried to the front door. Flora couldn’t see Jake greet the care worker at the door, blocked by an overhang.
Five minutes later, there he was. He wore jeans and a white t-shirt with whales on it. She liked whales and wondered if it was an interest of his or just a random shirt. In front of his driveway he stopped to pull on the second strap of his backpack. Then he did something he’d never done before. He just stood there. For a long time. What was he doing? Flora found it hard to breathe with anticipation.
Then he looked up. Directly at her.
Her heart raced, but this time, she didn’t hit the floor and hide. She stared back at him. Jake grinned. Flora bit her lip and smiled back. Jake’s grin turned into an all-out smile. Then he waved and strode down the sidewalk towards Garfield High, in the opposite direction of the elementary school, turning to meet Flora’s eyes one more time before he was out of sight.
Flora leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, still smiling, reeling in the sensations of—what exactly? Hope, excitement, desire, giddiness, happiness. It was entirely new, except for second-hand empathy of book and movie antagonists. And she was determined to take it all in, pleasurable and overwhelming at the same time. Even if it didn’t last, even if it was futile in the end, she would have this moment.
