throat, afraid to come out with something even stupider than “Hi, I’m the lawyer next door.”
“Well, thank you, I’m very happy with my representation right now, but I’ll certainly keep you in mind,” he said. “Why don’t you just drop off your card with my housekeeper one of these days, okay? Nice to finally meet you.”
I had enough residual anger in me, and more than enough manic irritability, to hear a deliberate insult in even the most innocent remark, no matter how sweetly it was spoken or how green the speaker’s eyes. I may not be able to afford this neighborhood anymore, I thought, and no doubt my poor ramshackle little house reflects it. But I’ll be damned if anyone’s going to insinuate that I’m peddling my J.D. up and down the street like some overeducated Avon Lady. So I summoned forth The Voice I used to use for such polite venom as “my worthy opponent,” or “Your Honor, I respectfully dissent.”
“Look,” said The Voice. “I’ve got a major filing deadline coming up, and there’s no way I’ll make it if I don’t get a break from those god-awful drums. I mean, no offense, but it’s been going on for hours now. I’ve tried everything—ear plugs, headphones, you name it, but—”
I was interrupted by another chorus of thump-thump-da-thump. The noise was even louder at the source, I noticed, and out of the corner of my eye I saw with satisfaction that my neighbor’s windows were shaking, too.
There was nothing but vibrations between us.
In high-stakes litigation, you have to be fast on your feet, always two beats ahead of your opponent. So I was ready, rattlesnake ready, for whatever the next few seconds might bring. Ready, as always, for battle—but not for laughter. Laughter has no place between proper enemies. And yet he laughed. He leaned back against the gate post and laughed, an honest-to-God, deep from the diaphragm laugh. I think it must have been a stoned laugh, too, because within a few seconds I had caught the high. And for the first time that day, probably several days, the sounds that emerged from inside me had no tinge of anger or irritation.
He reached over and put his hand on my arm. “God, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I thought you were…I thought you wanted…. Anyway, I swear I never even heard those drums until now. I’ve been in the record business so long I just tune it all out, you know? It’s my little boy’s birthday today, and I’ve only got him for the weekend, so I’m probably overindulging as usual. But don’t worry, he’ll be taking the drums with him tomorrow when he goes back home to his mother. A little unexpected present for her….”
It wasn’t really funny, except in a sitcom kind of way, but it set us off again. Silly was such a tremendous relief that I never even stopped to wonder at my sudden and radical shift of mood. At some point, without my even noticing it, defiance had melted away.
“Actually, this is perfect,” my neighbor said. “We’re having a party right now for Trevor—that’s my little boy—and we’ve got tons of food. Amazing desserts. We’ll just have to throw it all away tomorrow, unless you come in and help us out. And you can take some home, as much as you want.” He held out his hand. “By the way, my name is Julian.”
“I’m Terri,” I said, and I slipped my hand into his, trying my best to clasp it like the girl next door and not a lawyer on the make.
Although we were next-door neighbors, the only thing Julian’s house and mine had in common was a ZIP code. My bedroom would have fit inside his foyer. His kitchen sink would have swallowed up my bathtub, if I’d had one.
But the real difference between us wasn’t size: it was light, light that gleamed and glinted from every direction, caught up and ricocheted around the room by high-tech chrome fixtures and rows of copper-bottomed pots and pans. Light like the light in Julian’s house is a luxury few can afford. So I knew that
“Well, thank you, I’m very happy with my representation right now, but I’ll certainly keep you in mind,” he said. “Why don’t you just drop off your card with my housekeeper one of these days, okay? Nice to finally meet you.”
I had enough residual anger in me, and more than enough manic irritability, to hear a deliberate insult in even the most innocent remark, no matter how sweetly it was spoken or how green the speaker’s eyes. I may not be able to afford this neighborhood anymore, I thought, and no doubt my poor ramshackle little house reflects it. But I’ll be damned if anyone’s going to insinuate that I’m peddling my J.D. up and down the street like some overeducated Avon Lady. So I summoned forth The Voice I used to use for such polite venom as “my worthy opponent,” or “Your Honor, I respectfully dissent.”
“Look,” said The Voice. “I’ve got a major filing deadline coming up, and there’s no way I’ll make it if I don’t get a break from those god-awful drums. I mean, no offense, but it’s been going on for hours now. I’ve tried everything—ear plugs, headphones, you name it, but—”
I was interrupted by another chorus of thump-thump-da-thump. The noise was even louder at the source, I noticed, and out of the corner of my eye I saw with satisfaction that my neighbor’s windows were shaking, too.
There was nothing but vibrations between us.
In high-stakes litigation, you have to be fast on your feet, always two beats ahead of your opponent. So I was ready, rattlesnake ready, for whatever the next few seconds might bring. Ready, as always, for battle—but not for laughter. Laughter has no place between proper enemies. And yet he laughed. He leaned back against the gate post and laughed, an honest-to-God, deep from the diaphragm laugh. I think it must have been a stoned laugh, too, because within a few seconds I had caught the high. And for the first time that day, probably several days, the sounds that emerged from inside me had no tinge of anger or irritation.
He reached over and put his hand on my arm. “God, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I thought you were…I thought you wanted…. Anyway, I swear I never even heard those drums until now. I’ve been in the record business so long I just tune it all out, you know? It’s my little boy’s birthday today, and I’ve only got him for the weekend, so I’m probably overindulging as usual. But don’t worry, he’ll be taking the drums with him tomorrow when he goes back home to his mother. A little unexpected present for her….”
It wasn’t really funny, except in a sitcom kind of way, but it set us off again. Silly was such a tremendous relief that I never even stopped to wonder at my sudden and radical shift of mood. At some point, without my even noticing it, defiance had melted away.
“Actually, this is perfect,” my neighbor said. “We’re having a party right now for Trevor—that’s my little boy—and we’ve got tons of food. Amazing desserts. We’ll just have to throw it all away tomorrow, unless you come in and help us out. And you can take some home, as much as you want.” He held out his hand. “By the way, my name is Julian.”
“I’m Terri,” I said, and I slipped my hand into his, trying my best to clasp it like the girl next door and not a lawyer on the make.
Although we were next-door neighbors, the only thing Julian’s house and mine had in common was a ZIP code. My bedroom would have fit inside his foyer. His kitchen sink would have swallowed up my bathtub, if I’d had one.
But the real difference between us wasn’t size: it was light, light that gleamed and glinted from every direction, caught up and ricocheted around the room by high-tech chrome fixtures and rows of copper-bottomed pots and pans. Light like the light in Julian’s house is a luxury few can afford. So I knew that
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