I raised my index finger in protest. “I said I’m not going to argue about it.”
“Neither am I. I’ll just go on the record as saying if you make me sick from your travels, I’ll smack you in the head with a hammer.”
“You’re going to hit me with a hammer?”
“Yep. Right between the running lights,” he said with a nod. “For being an idiot.”
“Whatever, Old Man. This’ll be over as soon as they get the economy on the downturn. That’s all they’re after.”
“Let’s change the subject back to the curly-headed gal next door.”
“No.”
“We can talk corona or curls, you pick.”
I didn’t want to talk about either subject. I peered at the home across the street. Normally, there was activity in and out all day. There was no indication of human life, whatsoever. Frustrated with the entire situation, I stared blankly at the front door.
“I’ll take your silence as a no vote.” He finished his beer and grabbed another. “There’s a possibility that the curly-headed gal is still interested. She’s just waiting for you to apologize.”
“Apologize?” I shot him a glare. “For what?”
“For taking off after the producer’s daughter.”
“What else was I supposed to do? That was my reputation—and a hundred grand—running down the street.”
“I’m not saying what you did is wrong. I’m saying you need to apologize.”
“If I didn’t do anything wrong, why would I apologize?”
“Because, that’s what it takes to keep a woman happy. I was married to your mother for 50 years. During that time, I apologized more times than I can count. For the sake of this conversation, let’s call that number…” He sipped his beer for a moment. “18,000 times. Of those 18,000 times—”
“What?” I glared. “18,000?!”
He nodded. “Once a day for 50 years. That’s probably accurate. Anyway, of those 18,000, maybe a dozen of them were heartfelt apologies.”
“A dozen out of 18,000?”
“That’s just a guess, but I’m saying it’s pretty damned accurate.”
“Why’d you apologize the other 17,988 times?”
“Because that’s what it took to keep her happy. When a woman loves a man, and he does something that she takes exception to, it ignites a fire within her that can’t be extinguished by anything other than an apology.”
“When a woman loves a man,” I said. “That theory doesn’t apply to me.”
“It’s not a theory,” he said in a snide tone. “It’s a fact, and it applies, believe me.”
“How so?”
“You poked your dick in her, that’s how so. You can’t go poking your cock in a woman—especially your neighbor—and expect that she’s not going to develop feelings. Screwing a single woman is like feeding a stray cat a bowl of milk. They’ll keep coming back until the milk’s gone. Your milk will never be gone, because you live next door.”
“I’m not interested in her beyond what’s already happened.”
“Maybe you ought to be.”
“She’s hot-headed.”
He raised his hand to his chin and pondered my response before meeting my gaze. “Might be part Italian,” he said straight-faced. “Italian gals are like Mexicans. They’ve got tempers like drunken sailors.”
“She’s not Italian.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Her name’s Anna Wilson.”
He looked at me like I was an idiot. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Ever met an Italian named Wilson?”
“Her mother’s maiden name might have been Spaghetti or Rigatoni, or something.” He finished his beer and grabbed another from the cooler. “You never know.”
“Can we give this a rest?” I asked.
“Not much else to talk about,” he said. “Talking about the virus pisses you off.”
“There’s plenty to talk about,” I argued.
“Let’s talk about the Rourke legacy. You’re my only child, and it’ll die with you if you don’t get busy and have some kids. Whether it happens in my lifetime or after I’m long gone, it needs to happen.”
I spit beer across the porch. “I’m not having kids with my neighbor.”
“She’s the only one I can think of since your ex-wife that you’ve had sex with more than once.” He grinned a cheesy smile. “She sounds like a prime candidate. You said she owns her own car dealership, so she’s got—”
“She tricked me,” I replied. “The second time. I wasn’t planning on—”
He burst out into a laughing fit. “She duped you into having sex?”
“Pretty much.”
“Nobody’s ever tricked you into anything. Not even once,” he argued. “Give that some serious thought before you try to argue it.”
I couldn’t argue it.
He was absolutely right.
Anna
Elbow deep in a bag of Chex Mix and halfway finished with my second bottle of champagne, I watched intently as the governor gave a televised statement as to why ninety percent the state’s many golf courses were closed.
I hoped that one day I would be able to get out of bed and not watch the news. I desperately needed to find a way to move forward with living my life—even if I had to make changes while I was still sheltering in place.
I had an unhealthy obsession with knowing what was happening regarding everything that was COVID-19 related.
There had to be a way to find a balance. At the moment, nothing in my life was balanced. I was living a life of extremes. Overdrinking, gorging myself with junk food, and sleeping less than I had since college wasn’t healthy, and I knew it.
Change, however, was not coming easily.
I stared blankly at the television after the press conference was over, wondering what the next news highlight was going to be. They hadn’t updated the death total for the United States yet, nor had they shared the new total for infected residents in the state of California.
I wondered how things could ever get back to normal. They were now saying that a second infectious wave would hit the United States in 8 or 9 months. According to the CDC, the vaccine for COVID-19 wouldn’t be available for use on humans for another 18 months. By that time, it was probable that they would need another vaccine, altogether.
I feared my life would continue the same pattern of deterioration until I was in so deep that I could never dig my way out. Like the dirty dishwater draining from the kitchen sink after a holiday family feast, the Cheetos, empty champagne bottles, and my tired sunken eyes would eventually be sucked into downwardly spiraling vortex. I’d, of course, go right along with them, never to be seen again.
All that would be required to set the event in motion was for someone to pull the plug.
I needed to develop a new routine. A schedule that included exercise, eating properly, and keeping my mind occupied with work would be a good start. For now, my only chance at a normal slice of life would be my daily meetings with Marge. Not that shouting halfway up the block at a stranger was normal.