A Girl

A Girl's Best Friend

by Emma Claudeanos

The apartment was in a five-unit building, on a wide, tree-lined street. If one stood facing the structure on the right sat a stout white home with a large back yard of green grass, and a cement path slicing through to a guesthouse. To the left was a modest blue house with red trim. Behind this home, set far back from the street, stood a moss-colored house with a wide front porch spanning its width. Parked in front of the garage sat a motorcycle leaning on its kickstand.

Lily left the apartment for two hours every Sunday for groceries. She worked Monday through Thursday at Ferd’s New & Used Books a few blocks from where she lived. The rest of her time she spent in her one bedroom unit, cooking for herself, cleaning, and reading. She did not own a television. Her phone rested dormant on the wall, and Lily only paid the bill to keep 911 available in an emergency. Her home was white. The walls were empty canvases of white paint. Her carpet, wall-to-wall in every room but the kitchen and bathroom, glowed blindingly up from the floor. Lily liked it that way. Every morning she would wake up, tug the vacuum from the hall closet and rid her home of the flecks of dirt that had materialized while she slept. She meticulously pressed wrinkles from her bed sheets and tucked corners tightly beneath her mattress. She swept the kitchen floor, and wiped invisible droplets of water from dishes set out to dry the night before. It was not the germs that Lily feared. It was the potential for disorder that left her helpless. Lily kept her life organized, just the way she wanted it. Her favorite task of all, dusting, she saved for last. Lily swept her feather duster carefully over her small collection of miniature statue replicas. She had Michelangelo’s David and Pieta, Rodin’s The Kiss and The Thinker, Venus di Milo, and her beloved Winged Victory, each one about eighteen inches tall.

It was on a Monday that curiosity began to plague Lily, a rare occurrence. Day was turning to night when she decided to trim the greenery that grew along the fence separating the deck from her motorcycle-obsessed neighbor. Lily slid open the glass door and stepped into the cool air. Clippers in hand she approached the fence and began the job.

Between the apartment building and the moss colored house with the leaning motorcycle in front of the garage was a fence. The wood was relatively new, and it was stained a deep, rich brown color. The fence was over six feet high built for maximum privacy. The slats of wood stood perpendicular to the ground. Between each slat was three inches of empty space. It was in this space that Lily stole her first glimpse of Shaun. Until a week before, a small black sign with neon orange letters could be seen fading in the window of the blue house with red trim. “Rear House for Rent. Please phone 555-3500 for more information.” Before work one morning, Lily stopped to wait as a yellow moving van crossed her path and rolled down the long driveway to the back home. Grimacing at the black exhaust huffing from the truck’s pipe, Lily continued down the sidewalk and confirmed her “new-neighbor” suspicions with a glance at the empty bay window of the blue house.

Now, as Lily clipped away at the vines, she heard a screen door slam from the other side of the fence. A chair squeaked in pain with the girth of its newest burden, a lighter flicked once, twice, and then the faint but effective scent of burning tar drifted easily to Lily’s nose. She lowered the hedge-clippers, and bent her body toward the fence. She allowed her eyes to focus between the slats of wood, and peered unforgivingly at Shaun. He was a bulky man, with long legs and defined muscles bulging from beneath his gray t-shirt. His black hair was long, but well groomed, and it fell just below his eyebrows, hiding his eyes from Lily. She could see black stains covering his palms and fingers and glanced suspiciously at the motorcycle Shaun seemed to be eyeing thoughtfully.

At first glance Lily formed very little judgment on the man. He appeared to be nothing more than a single, thirty year-old man, paying honest rent and spending his spare time turning bolts on his bike.

Lily laid down her clippers and went inside for the evening. She prepared veal picatta with penne and alfredo, Belgian endive salad with sliced pears and crumbled blue cheese, and the most delicate slice of tiramisu. She read three chapters from “Crime and Punishment” and then tucked herself in promptly at ten o’clock.

Early the next morning, as Lily sat eating her breakfast of cottage cheese and fresh peaches, Shaun stormed heatedly out onto his front porch. Lily approached her sliding glass door hesitantly and slid it open. She crept over to the fence, and peeped between the wood. From here she could see clearly into his front window where the deserted TV flickered silently. Shaun was outside pacing loudly back and forth. His left hand jammed a cordless phone to his ear, and his right pinched a cigarette keenly between two fingers.

“I told you for chrissake, I’ll take care of it,” Shaun thundered. “The sonofabitch told me last week, and two days ago, and yesterday, and now you’re tellin’ me today. I don’t want to hear it again.”

Pause

“Tell him to kiss my ass and I’ll call him in a week,” Shaun pounded the off-button, gave the phone the finger, flicked ash form the end of his cigarette, and sat down with a sigh.

Lily, on her slightly less obscene and significantly more tranquil side of the fence, stood wide eyed with half her face pressed against the slats. A strange suspicion drifted from her subconscious and settled effortlessly on her mind. All of a sudden she perceived Shaun as slightly bizarre, and maybe even a threat to her comfortable peace. At that moment Lily decided to keep a close eye on her neighbor, even if that meant spending a few minutes of her day at the fence risking splinters in her cheeks.

At 9:00 Lily gathered her bag and a light jacket and stepped outside her front door into the bright morning sun. She heard a pounding on the stairs to her right, and cringed as Kenneth from apartment #C came trundling down. She caught his eye and forced a smile. He pushed past her gruffly and got into his car, slamming the door shut behind him. Kenneth had never liked her, and always treated her like a bug crawling beneath his skin. Lily had no idea why.

Lily sat atop a stool behind the counter of Ferd’s Books. It had been a busy morning, but with the passing of lunch hour, business had slowed nearly to a standstill. One woman stood perusing the Harlequin romances while her poodle, held prisoner by a pink leash and a lamppost, yelped ceaselessly through the open door.

“Quiet Bella, Mommy’ll be right there,” she cooed to the dog. “She just loves her mother so much,” she said, this time directed at Lily.

Lily smiled politely and nodded her head in convinced agreement. After all, the customer was always right. The woman placed her choices on the counter, paid Lily and left with her poodle leading the way down the block.

Five minutes later, as Lily was nearly lost in her novel, she caught a tall man walk into the store in her peripheral vision. Finishing the sentence she was reading, she looked up to see Shaun towering over her, his dark hair dangling over his eyes.

“Oh…hi,” Lily said. She did not smile.

“Hi there, how are you?” Shaun met her warmly with a grin.

“Uh, I’m fine, how about yourself?” Lily replied. She definitely had not expected such a hearty greeting.

“I’m doing well. I’m new around here and I thought I’d walk the neighborhood to see what’s around. This is the first place I’ve found,” he said.

“You live in the green house on Montgomery Street, right?” Lily asked.

“Yes. How’d you know that?” he asked surprised.

“We’re neighbors. I’m Lily, I live in the beige apartment building next door,” she said. The friendly discourse had nearly erased all of her previous suspicions.

“Oh, it’s great to meet you. I’m Shaun,” he replied.

“Good to meet you too,” she said.

He smiled and then continued into the store to browse. Lily had made it through a few more pages when Shaun strode up to the front of the shop. The old, warped hardwood floor creaked softly beneath his feet. He tossed his pick on to the counter, The Best American Mystery Stories 2005. Lily laughed to herself.

“You’ll have to tell me how you like that. I was never satisfied with the way things worked out in any of those stories,” she told Shaun. “That’s $15.24 please.”

She looked him over carefully while he fished the bills form his wallet. Shaun wore blue jeans and white sneakers and it was the middle of the day. This meant he obviously did not work in an office or restaurant or any establishment that required formal attire. Nothing on his body gave any clues as to what he did for a living. Lily was lost in thought when Shaun finally drew her attention to the money he had dropped on the counter. She gave him his change, deciding not to pry for any information. He wished her a good evening, which she returned, and then he left up the street toward home.

When Lily made it home from work that night at 7:00, Shaun was in his driveway crouched over his motorcycle. As she crossed the sidewalk in front of the house, a motion sensitive light flicked on bathing her in bright white glow. She called out a hello and Shaun straightened up to wave. Lily walked through the tenant parking lot of her own apartment building and pulled her house keys from her bag.

When Lily pushed open the front door she had to strain to stifle the shriek that climbed her throat and filled her mouth. Scattered across the living room floor were couch cushions shredded to scraps. Books were strewn about, carelessly flung from the shelves lining her walls. She spotted her statue collection in a heap on the floor and counted the items from where she stood, 6. Lily pushed her way into the room and carried herself crying to the kitchen. Piles of dishes had been tossed to the floor where they had shattered into heaps of sharp ceramic. In her bedroom the sheets were torn from her bed. Items of clothing littered the floor and her drawers gaped empty and open.

With tears streaming down her face Lily went to her phone that hung quietly on the wall. She picked up the receiver and dialed a 9. She paused, hung up the phone, and began to straighten up her home. She found everything and put it all back where it belonged.

Her appetite was shot so she had a mango and a shot of Vodka. Then she crawled into bed and slept.

Lily spent the next two days at work in a state of slight shock. She had no one to talk to and was at a complete loss as to how to deal with the situation. It was Friday and Lily was working her last hour at the bookstore when Shaun sauntered into Ferd’s.

“Hey Lily, how’s good old Ferd treating you today?” Shaun asked her jokingly.

“Oh, work’s fine,” she answered wearily.

“Are you feeling okay? You look pale,” Shaun said, concerned.

“I feel fine, it’s just, well…I don’t know, it’s nothing,” she replied.

“Really, what is it? Are you upset about something?” Shaun asked.

Lily wasn’t used to talking to anyone about her problems, but at the same time, she wasn’t used to having problems like the one she had faced earlier that week.

She spilled the story anxiously to Shaun.

When she was finished Shaun looked at her attentively.

“That sounds horrible. Have you contacted the police?” he asked.

“No, I mean, nothing was taken and I…I…” she stuttered.

“I think it’s going to be okay Lily, but if you ever have any problems I’m right next door so call me anytime,” he said kindly.

Shaun tore a slip of paper from a notepad on the counter and scrawled his phone number across the sheet. He handed it to Lily.

“Oh, by the way, those mystery stories definitely need some work. Every one ends the same with half the mystery left unsolved. What kind of BS is that?” he said laughing.

Lily smiled and waved goodbye as Shaun left the bookstore. Forty-five minutes later she was walking briskly through the evening air toward Montgomery Street. As she approached the entrance to her unit she saw Kenneth starting up the flight of stairs. He shot her a quick glance and hurried up the stairs and out of sight.

The moment she pushed open her door Lily could smell the gas. It was the heavy smell that pours from a stove whose steady pilot flame has winked out in a sudden breeze or breath of air. Lily entered her house leaving the front door wide open. She hung her purse in the closet and made her way from window to window opening each one completely. She then pulled open the sliding glass door and waited for the maximum airflow to clear the danger from her apartment.

After a few moments Lily grabbed a box of matches from the cupboard above the stove. Fist she checked the furnace near her bedroom door. Kneeling on the floor she forced open the bottom grate and searched in the darkness for the blue flame. Seeing none, she withdrew a match slowly from the box. Like any normal human being, Lily hesitated when faced with the idea of holding a lit match to an active gas pipe. She took a deep breath and flicked the red head against the sand-papery strip on the side of the box. She watched it burn steadily for a second and then coerced her hand slowly into the furnace. Nothing happened at first, then, with a whish, the flame took to the gas and burned predictably in the darkness. Lily checked the rest of the house, lighting the pilot on her stove, and the other furnace next to the bathroom. Lily was sick with worry and tried desperately to estimate the chances of all three pilots being out at the same time.

Within the next hour curiosity began to tingle in Lily’s mind and she decided to see what it was exactly that Shaun found so interesting about his bike. She once again peered through the fence. Shaun was just pulling a beige tarpaulin over the top of his motorcycle when a maroon colored car pulled into his driveway and shut off it’s motor. Shaun looked up unconcerned and greeted the two men quietly as they emerged from the vehicle. Shaun turned and walked to his deck and through his front door. The two men followed soundlessly. Through the front window Lily could see the TV switch on, and the three men take places on the couch. Ten minutes passed in this fashion and Lily was about to retire her watch when Shaun and his visitors stood up quickly. One of the men pulled a sheet of paper from his briefcase and handed it to Shaun. Shaun looked the sheet over carefully, folded it, and then stored it safely in his pocket. He then walked the two men to their car.

“I just want to know when it’s going to happen,” one of the men stated to Shaun.

“Soon, I swear to God. You can’t rush me in these types of situations,” he answered calmly.

Shaun shook hands with both men, and then watched them back slowly from the driveway.

Tired, hungry and worried Lily went back inside and opened her cabinets to prepare dinner. She stirred the lobster bisque thoughtfully and set a plate on the dining table with rustic French bread and Brie, and asparagus with a lemon and crushed almond dressing. Afterward she enjoyed coconut sorbet and a dessert aperitif.

In the week that followed little happened in Lily’s life. She spent her days as always, reading behind the counter of Ferd’s, cooking, cleaning, and wondering about her recent misfortunes. It was on a Friday night that her questions were finally answered.

Lily was sitting up in bed reading the last page of Crime and Punishment. At the end Lily closed the book contentedly and made a space for it on her bookshelf. She filled a tall glass with water from the kitchen tap and carried it to her bedside table. She then flicked the light switch and climbed beneath the sheets. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness. From her position she could make out the boxy shape of her dresser, her basket of dirty laundry in the corner, and her oversized armchair. As Lily was gradually drifting off, a gentle creak emanated from somewhere nearby. Lily let her eyes blink open. A creak in the night never truly bothered her. After all, she lived in an apartment where tenants traveled constantly above her head. She shut her eyes once again and her body slowly shut down as she glided into dreamland. Hours must have passed before Lily woke with a start. The room was still black, and Lily felt the change before she actually made out the shape. Her eyes scanned across the room, her laundry basket, her dresser and finally her oversized armchair. It was in this armchair that the figure sat, black as night in the darkened room. Lily sat bolt upright letting a cry escape from between her lips. She could make no other sound. Lily’s hand crept slowly to the reading lamp by her bed. Trembling she turned the little knob and bathed Shaun in soft yellow light. Lily sobbed.

“We don’t have time for this Lily,” he said to her. “You know what I want.”

Somehow Lily found her breath cowering in her lungs and let it out slowly. She gained her composure, as Shaun grew frustrated.

“ Where are they goddamnit?” he demanded.

“I...I…have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.

“Your dad, my dad, they were a team. Don’t bullshit me,” Shaun said.

“Please, what do you want?” Lily cried

“Don’t fuck with me, I swear I don’t have time for this,” he said “I’ve been watching you Lily, through that damn fence. I know they’re here somewhere.”

“You’ve got the wrong girl, I promise I don’t know what you mean,” she said. Lily began to cry again, big wet tears falling helplessly down her cheeks.

“Your dad screwed my father pretty good ten years ago. Daddy must have told you the story. They were partners, but greed seemed to blind your father. That last heist landed my dad in prison and yours sittin’ pretty with a handful of diamonds and not a care in the world.” Shaun said. “Your daddy left mine hanging in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m just here to take what’s rightfully his.”

“Shaun, please, I don’t know what you mean. My father died when I was seven years old. You have the wrong Lily, it’s not me, I swear to God it’s not me,” she cried earnestly.

Shaun leapt from his chair swiftly and wrapped his gloved hands around Lily’s neck. Her arms flailed in front of her trying to push Shaun away.

“Tell me you bitch, tell me now!” he screamed into her face.

Lily’s energy began to fade slowly as she gasped for air against the tightening grip. Her right hand crept slyly over the edge of her bed. She pried her fingers underneath the edge of the mattress as Shaun shrieked into her face, distracted by his rage. A gray fog had begun to collect slowly around Lily’s vision. Shaun’s voice drifted in and out, but it all came rushing back in a wave as her fingers touched the cold, hard metal of the .45 Colt revolver. She wrapped her hand quickly around the gun and tugged it easily from beneath the mattress.

“I don’t know…what the fuck…you are talking about,” she choked out.

In one swift movement Lily lifted the gun into Shaun’s face, cocked back the hammer and blew his brains out.

Lily pushed the body off from on top of her. She glanced around the room at the mess and wondered whether a little bleach wouldn’t do the trick.

The first thing Lily did when she reached the living room was pick up the phone and dial the police. Then she filled a fresh glass of water from the faucet and drank it down. She set the empty cup in the sink.

Lily walked into her living room, past the couch, and across the white carpet, to a set of shelves lining her wall. She reached up to the top shelf, weaving her hand carefully amongst the statues until her palm rested tenderly against the one she wanted, her favorite one: the Winged Victory. Lily lowered the statue from its place, grasping it gently in her hands. She held it up before her eyes and then shook it delicately. A faint tinkling radiated softly from within.