It was a nice life–the sort of life Ben had always wanted. A nice job that he only hated some of the time, a house of his own on a quiet, suburban cul-de-sac, and last year he’d gotten married to a lovely woman, and they were planning on starting the rest of their family soon. He’d made it–from here on out, it would be smooth sailing, and maybe an early retirement. Boring, safe, pleasant and happy. That’s what he wanted. So when their new neighbor moved in–an older fellow by the name of Marv–he couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him. He was probably twenty years older than Ben, but it was clear his life was not nearly as on track as his own. From the look of the truck he drove up, he worked in construction or something similar–no wife, no family. He was just…alone.
Of course, Ben didn’t really have much interest in his neighbors. He was pleasant, and he expected pleasantness in return, but beyond that, he preferred everyone else stayed out of his business. He especially felt that way about Marvin, though he found it difficult to explain why he felt uneasy around the older man. It was, perhaps, because despite the fact that his life seemed rather unfulfilled, he was, all the same, rather…happy. Or if he wasn’t happy, he could put on a very convincing happy face. And so, Ben found himself thinking and watching and wondering about Marv more than many of his other, much more normal neighbors. The others were like him, and in their normalcy, more transparent. He didn’t know the details–he could infer the rest from the jobs, the wives, the pets, the children. But over the next few months, as Marv settled into the cul-de-sac, it was clear that he was not cut from the same normal cloth as the rest of them.
The lawn was overgrown, and where everyone else conscientiously watered the grass all summer, he let his grow too long and it browned it several patches from the heat and sparse rain. The rest of the landscaping went unattended, and by early fall it was also overgrown and full of weeds. A few of the neighbors tried to mention it to him, and hint at the fact that his growing eyesore was possibly wounding their own property values, but as understanding as he would appear, nothing would change, and without as all powerful HOA there was little anything anyone could do but watch, and gossip, and wonder. No one could really know, what took place inside that house. There were no symbols of normalcy, no wife, no kids, and no conventional job, and so all that remained was speculation around the rotating neighborhood bar-be-ques, which Marv always courteously declined the attend.
“He’s a slob, and have you seen how many beer bottles are in the recycling?”
“”He probably works himself to the bone; I feel sorry for him. If I worked in construction the last thing I’d want to do is do a bunch of heavy lifting once I got home.”
“He seems so lonely–I don’t think he’s had anyone over since he moved in.”
“I wonder why he won’t come over? I’ve asked him to come by a few times, but he’s always said no. He seems like a snob to me.”
Ben could guess along, but none of his neighbor’s convictions seemed to move him. In all honesty, he had found himself reaching a space where he could stop caring. After all, he was much more focused on his wife, Katie, and trying to get her pregnant, to really worry about some strange, eccentric neighbor of his. The others could fret, and worry, and do their best to bring him into suburban line, but Ben had his path, and his plan, and he had no intention of letting anything upset it.
And so, when Marv waved to him across the cul-de-sac one September Saturday, Ben was confused. He hadn’t done anything to deserve a wave, had he? Picked up the mail? Dropped a newspaper at the porch? No–he’d simply resolved to let Marv have his strange life, a life Ben would never want to have a part of, and he assumed, in return, that Marv would show him no interest as well.
Still, he waved back. It’s what you did, after all. And instead of leaving at that, Marv smiled and walked across the street to where Ben was standing at the end of his driveway, wondering, what, in the world, the man could want.
“Hey there–it’s Ben, right?” Marv said as he came up. “Glad I could catch you–I was wondering if I could get your help with something real quick. You seem like the kind of fellow who isn’t afraid of a bit of heavy lifting.”
In fact, Ben was a bit of a scrawny fellow, and had never really been suited to much hard work. He generally hired help to do most of the heavy lifting around his house–and Marv…well, Marv seemed like he could tackle pretty much anything on his own. A few inches over six feet, broad in the shoulder, packed with muscle and a hefty gut–what could he possibly need anyone’s help with, much the less Ben’s? At the same time, you didn’t say no to a neighbor, either. Without asking for details, he said yes, and followed Marv back to his home, and around to the back of his truck. Inside, covered by a tarp which Marv unfurled, was a doghouse.
Bracken's Corner 