Won't You Be My Neighbor? Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Copyright © 2012 by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Prologue

  He was beautiful. He wasn’t supposed to be beautiful. He wasn’t even supposed to be a he; he was supposed to be a she. For some reason when Blair heard the name “Tristan,” she thought it belonged to a woman, but it didn’t. It belonged to a man, a very beautiful man who was young enough to be datable and old enough to be distinguished.

  Not that it mattered because they weren’t going to date. There was some law about not being allowed to date your therapist, wasn’t there? Not for her, but for him. He couldn’t date her because it was illegal. Or maybe it was just unethical. Whatever the reason, it was a moot point anyway because Blair would never reveal her newfound crush on him. She wouldn’t date him; she wouldn’t date anyone. She would die alone and be eaten by cats, which brought her back to the reason she was here.

  “Why don’t you start by telling me why you’re here?” Tristan, the beautiful psychologist, asked her a question. How long ago had he said that? Had she been staring at his perfect lips the entire time he awaited an answer?

  Blair began to sweat, a telltale sign that she was headed for a breakdown.

  “Blair,” he said in a calm, practiced voice. Was he born with that voice, or was that something he had learned in psychologist school? “This is a safe place. I want to help you, but to do that, I need you to talk to me. Can you answer my question?”

  Blair nodded. Swallowing down some of her anxiety, she opened her mouth and said the first thing that came to mind. “It started with the newspapers.”

  She paused, expecting Tristan to interrupt with, “What newspapers?” When he didn’t, she reminded herself that he was trained to listen and not ask inane questions.

  “In my neighborhood, there was this house that was sort of ugly and rundown. I found myself resenting this house every time I drove by it because it’s one of those that drags down the property value. But I never paid a whole lot of attention until the newspapers started piling up on the front porch. And then I felt irritated. Obviously someone had abandoned this house, probably due to a mortgage situation, and now it was going to seed, and that was going to play havoc with property values.” She paused, frowning. “I don’t know why I even cared about property values. It’s not like I’m ever going to sell my house. I’m basically there until I die.” Her frown increased, and she shook her head to try and clear her expression.

  “Anyway, day after day I absently noticed these newspapers, not really thinking too much about it beyond my own vague irritation. And then my college roommate, Tanya, called. While we were in college, we became really good friends. Then we graduated and she got married. She’s a stay-at-home mom with a couple of kids. She’s tried hard to keep the friendship alive, but I wasn’t interested. She calls me every few months and sends Christmas cards. I do nothing to reciprocate. Anyway, it was time for my quarterly call from Tanya, and all I could think while she was talking was that I resented the intrusion into my life. I wanted to get off the phone with her so I could finish my book. Since that wasn’t happening, I turned on the television to try and distract myself from the pain of listening about Tanya’s kid’s teething difficulties.”

  She glanced at Tristan, knowing he had to be as bored as she had been while listening to Tanya, only he didn’t look bored. He looked like what she was saying was the most fascinating thing he had ever heard in his life. How did he do that? She tore her eyes away and looked down again; she had to, or she would never be able to finish.

  “It was while I was listening to Tanya that I saw my neighbor’s house on television, you know, the house with all the newspapers. It turns out that the owner hadn’t abandoned the place; the owner had died. He had been dead for three months before anyone finally found him, and it was the newspaper delivery person who called it in. He had a bunch of cats and, well, let’s just say they didn’t starve in the interim. This is the part where things get weird because I’m sitting there listening to Tanya, staring at my television, and all I can think is, That’s going to be me someday.”

  “You mean the person who died alone? You think that’s going to be you someday?” Tristan clarified.

  Blair nodded.

  “What makes you think that?” Tristan asked.

  “Because I have no one. I’m an only child. I have no cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, or nephews. My parents died a few years ago. I work from home so there aren’t any coworkers. I go to church, but I’m not involved and I don’t talk to anyone. I have no friends except Tanya, and I’m annoyed by her. Someday I’m going to die only it will take someone much longer than three months to find me because I don’t subscribe to the newspaper.” And she would have to get cats, lots and lots of cats. But that was inevitable, wasn’t it? Didn’t old maids always turn into crazy cat ladies?

  She sat back, waiting and hoping for Tristan to tell her that she was wrong, that she wasn’t going to die alone, that her life was on track and thinking otherwise was her overactive imagination. He didn’t say any of that; instead he asked her a question.

  “What would you like to do about it?”

  “That’s the tricky part,” she answered. “I have no idea. Talking to people I don’t know makes me nervous. I break out in a cold sweat. My mind goes blank. I’m not good at making small talk or getting involved. I’ve never been a joiner. I have no idea how to change my life and, frankly, I’m not sure if I really want to. I only know that I don’t want to die alone, and right now that’s looking like a distinct possibility.”

  “You’re talking to me right now, and I think you’re doing a good job.”

  It was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her, which was so sad she wanted to cry. “That’s because I’m paying you. It’s easier for me if I keep things on a professional level. But I can guarantee you that if we met at a party, I would run away and lock myself in the bathroom to avoid opening my mouth near you.”

  “What do you do for a living?” he asked.

  “I don’t. For a few years, I worked as a copy editor for a textbook company. Then my parents died and left me an inheritance. It’s enough to keep me comfortable for the rest of my life, if I’m careful. I still do some freelance editing work because I feel insecure about running out of money someday.”

  “What do you do with your days? How do you spend your time?” Tristan asked. Was it her imagination, or did he seem slightly more curious, as if he was actually trying to picture what she did with the fourteen hours between wakeup and sleep?

  “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I have a schedule and a routine. Somehow the days seem to fill themselves up. I clean, cook, sometimes work, watch television, read, listen to the radio, knit, and do a crossword. The strange thing is that, even though I’m here, I don’t feel lonely. I feel content with my life. I simply don’t feel content with the direction I’m headed.” Dead, alone, eaten by cats. She couldn’t seem to get over that last part, no matter how irrational. She didn’t even like cats, and yet she felt it was inevitable that she was going to be ea
ten by them.

  “So, just to clarify, you like your life as it is now. You don’t feel lonely. You don’t want to make friends or join activities. You simply don’t want to die alone,” Tristan said.

  Blair nodded. “I realize, however, that if I don’t want to die alone, then I need to start reaching out to people now. I’m almost thirty, and these things take time. The problem is that I have no idea how to start. That’s why I’m here. I’ve never gone to counseling before. I’m not crazy.” She paused. Wasn’t that the crazy person’s motto? They probably had it printed on t-shirts at mental institutions. “I have to be a little bit crazy though, don’t I?” She continued, not waiting for an answer. “I mean, who else is so bad at forming relationships that she has to pay a professional for advice? Really, who does that?” The question was rhetorical because she was beginning to babble, but Tristan chose to answer.

  “Someone smart enough to realize she needs help. There’s no shame in asking for help, Blair. Everyone needs it sometimes.”

  “Not me,” Blair blurted. “From an early age I learned to be independent and self-sufficient. I pride myself on not needing anyone.”

  “Could it be possible that you’re too independent and self-sufficient? Everyone needs something sometime. Maybe not now, but you’re wise to realize there will come a day when your needs will be more apparent. Learning to make those connections now while you’re young will be immensely helpful when you’re old. You can take steps now to ensure you won’t be alone, to ensure you’re part of a community.” He paused as he regarded her. “What does that word mean to you--community?”

  “The place where you live?” she guessed, not sure what he was searching for.

  He nodded his head approvingly and Blair felt like she was back in school. “That’s certainly true—the place where you live is part of your community. But it’s more than that; it’s the network of people who surround you, an invaluable building block of people in your life, people who support and love you, who enrich your life. Over the next few weeks, we’re going to talk more about that word and what it can mean in your life.”

  “The next few weeks,” she repeated, aghast. “I thought today would be it. I thought you could tell me what to do and I would do it.”

  “It’s not quite that simple, Blair. We’re talking about breaking patterns that have been ingrained in you for years. For instance, if I told you to go make friends with two people right now, would you know what to do or where to go?”

  She shook her head, feeling something like panic at the prospect of making friends with strangers.

  “That’s why we’re going to start small. We’re going to take this in increments. First off, I’d like to have you evaluated by a physician. If he agrees with my assessment, then I’d like to put you on an antidepressant.”

  “But I’m not depressed,” Blair said.

  “That’s debatable, but the pill isn’t for depression; it’s for anxiety, social anxiety to be exact. I think your shyness is a physiological symptom of social anxiety, and I think medication can help.”

  “I don’t want to take pills,” Blair protested.

  “It might not be forever, and it’s worth a try. Wouldn’t it feel good to lose some of your panic in social situations?”

  He had her there. It would feel great not to be so afraid in a crowd, not to have sweaty palms, heart palpitations, and a blank mind. Maybe taking pills wasn’t so bad after all if it could solve all her problems. As if Tristan could read her mind, he continued.

  “And then we’ll have some homework.”

  “Homework?” she repeated, feeling some heavy duty anxiety now.

  “Very small, very simple. A tiny step outside your comfort zone. Believe me, this will not be the equivalent of learning to swim by being tossed into the ocean. This will be dipping in one toe at a time. In that vein, I want you to do two things this week. I want you to call Tanya.” He paused, probably waiting for her to protest. Calling Tanya was doable, though. Tanya was comfortable; no fear there. “Second, I want you to say hello to your neighbors.”

  “But I don’t know my neighbors,” she said, which, in retrospect, was a really stupid thing to say. Of course she didn’t know her neighbors; that’s why she was in therapy.

  “I’m not asking you to have a long conversation, just a simple hello. In fact, I would be satisfied with a wave. Just make contact.”

  Blair nodded. A simple hello. She could do that, couldn’t she? What was the worst that could happen?

  Chapter 1

  Sullivan Evans wasn’t thinking about anything as he drove home from work. Maybe his mind was on supper, and maybe not. Most likely he was simply in a zone, numb from the neck up.

  A part of his brain absently noted that his arrival coincided with that of his elusive neighbor, Miss Prim. Her name wasn’t actually Miss Prim. Sully had given her that nickname because it seemed to suit her. On the rare occasions he had glimpsed her, she was always perfectly in order from the top of her conservatively styled hair to the tips of her conservative leather shoes. She seemed neat and quiet and, best of all, she kept completely to herself, so much so that Sully’s other name for her was Bigfoot because a sighting of either creature was equally as rare. He was glad for her elusiveness, however. The last thing he wanted in his life was a love-starved female.

  It was so rare to see her that Sully couldn’t contain his nosy observation of her as she retrieved her mail and strode purposefully to her house. She was one of those people who always walked with purpose—head up, face set in a determined expression, eyes never veering left or right. Except today they did.

  Today she caught sight of Sully in her peripheral vision and froze, one foot dangling in midair like a flamingo. For a few beats she remained frozen in uncertainty, and then she slowly pivoted in his direction.

  “Hi.” The word came out in a barely audible whisper. If he hadn’t been able to read her lips, he wouldn’t have known what she said. As Sully stared at her in astonishment, she turned and once again marched toward her house, this time completing her mission and closing herself inside.

  Okay, that was weird, he thought as his gut clenched and roiled with anxiety. Had the woman finally realized she was living next door to an eligible bachelor? How else to explain her sudden interest in him? So maybe interest was a slight exaggeration, but still. An entire year of ignoring each other, and then she suddenly felt the need to break their unspoken rule and say hello. What was that about? Maybe she had just broken up with a boyfriend and was looking for a little retribution with the new neighbor. Or maybe it had taken her this long to work up the nerve to talk to him. He had always assumed she was almost painfully shy, but what if she wasn’t? What if she had simply been biding her time, lying in wait to spring at a convenient moment?

  If that was the case, if she truly was on the prowl, then she was going to be sorely disappointed because Sully wasn’t. He would either have to tell her up front that he wasn’t interested or he would have to move. And he really didn’t want to move.

  With effort, he pushed the episode away and reset his brain to autopilot. With any luck he would be able to salvage what was left of his evening.

  Blair on the other hand, hadn’t given any thought to her neighbor beyond the usual anxiety she felt about talking to a stranger. When he first moved in a year ago, she had peeked at him through the window blinds and found him average. Average height, average build, average good looks. For a few minutes she had been concerned by his lack of family, not wanting a wild bachelor to interfere with their quiet neighborhood. Would he trash the place? Would he have wild parties on the weekends? But, no, he was quiet and his lawn was impeccably neat. After her initial analysis, Blair had forgotten him completely. The only reason she noticed him today was because Tristan had instructed her to do so.

  Now she felt a certain sense of elation at having completed her task. She had gathered her courage and said an actual word, surpassing the less threatening hand wave. Now she
had only to say hello to her neighbor on the other side, the elderly Mrs. Caruthers. That lady was even more elusive than what’s-his-name, the neighbor she had just spoken to today. In order to say hello to Mrs. Caruthers, Blair might actually have to go over to her house and purpose to do so. Could she do that? What if the old woman wanted to invite her inside for a real conversation? Blair bit her lip; she would have to think about it.

  In the mean time, she got busy checking item number two from her list of Tristan’s instructions. After supper, she would call Tanya.

  She prepared her supper and ate in the kitchen, accompanied by the strains of jazz music coming from the radio. Unlike most people, Blair didn’t feel the need for constant noise. She enjoyed silence. Sometimes when she ate, though, the silence felt lonely. Music was a way to fill the emptiness.

  As she ate, the vision of Tristan rose unbidden to sit beside her. Blair dropped her eyes to her plate in embarrassed confusion. She wasn’t a teenager anymore, she was almost thirty. Why was she crushing on her counselor like a fifteen year old? It would help if he weren’t so very pretty.

  Blair had long ago given up on love and marriage, knowing she was too shy and too set in her ways to ever combine her life with another. Armed with that much self awareness, it was impossible to maintain her schoolgirl crushes. Sometime during college she had given up on them altogether, setting aside her romantic dreams and illusions in favor of reality. In the past when she felt attraction begin to arise, she quickly snuffed it out. Better to not have feelings at all than to live in constant disappointment. But now the telltale flutter of her youth was once again making its presence known in her stomach, alerting her to the mortifying conclusion that she had a raging crush on Tristan. What if he found out? What if she blurted out the truth during therapy?

  Maybe she shouldn’t go back. As soon as she hatched that thought, though, she tossed it away. She couldn’t not see him again; that thought was too painful. Plus, she truly did want and need his help. She had already developed a rapport with him. Didn’t that count for something? She didn’t want to have to start all over with someone new. Or at least that’s what she told herself. Surely the reason she was reluctant to find someone new didn’t have anything to do with Tristan’s uncanny resemblance to Colin Firth. That was mere coincidence.