Tony Hanover rummaged through the trash on the floor of his pickup, looking for his sunglasses. The morning was sunnier than it had been in weeks and he couldn’t drive home without them. At the end of his shift the other guys on graveyard wished each other a Happy Easter before going home to the wives and kids and chocolate bunnies. As Tony was leaving, the owner of the factory smacked him on the back.
“No work tonight, kid. We’re off all weekend.”
Tony nodded and smiled. He once showed up for work not realizing the place was closed for a holiday. No one ever let him forget it.
Sticking his arm under the passenger seat, he felt around the double cheeseburger wrappers, soda cups, straws, and chip bags until his fingertips touched the metal rim of his sunglasses. He was no longer a hunky football player but those gold-rimmed aviators still looked good on his face.
He put on the sunglasses then settled in behind the wheel of his truck. Rehab taught him to take a moment, sit quietly, before rushing into things. In the glove compartment he kept packages of crackers, the orange kind with matching orange cheese. A six-pack of crackers. Breakfast of champions.
While chewing slowly and deliberately, he flipped the visor down to read the Serenity Prayer he’d stapled there. The people in AA go crazy for it but, he needed to make some changes before it could work for him. He scratched out the word “God.” If a man sitting in the clouds above did exist, he never helped Tony out, no reason to ask him for any favors. He changed the word serenity to “balls.” If a person was going to stay sober, they needed balls; being calm, peaceful, and untroubled wasn’t going to cut it.
The prayer on his visor read:
God, grant me the serenity BALLS to accept the things I
cannot change; the courage to change the things I can, and
the wisdom to know the difference.
He had no interest in the courage to change things. Wanting to change one moment in his life was the reason he almost drank himself to death. The only thing that saved him was accepting that the last tackle in the last game of his sophomore year in college would remain the moment Tony Hanover ceased to be a person worth knowing.
With the last cracker clenched in his teeth, Tony started the engine and threw the truck in gear. If he took the direct way home it would take twenty-minutes but there were too many liquor stores and beer marts, not that any were open so early in the morning. In his previous life that didn’t matter. He spent plenty of time waiting in a parking lot for the neon sign to start blinking. Too big a risk. Instead, he drove a circuitous route that took roughly seventy minutes.
Along the way he passed landmarks of his former self; a telephone pole he snapped in two, the remnants of an oak tree he sideswiped, and a crumpled guardrail the state didn’t bother to fix. After every accident he got a pass for being the player that took the local high school to three straight championships. Lucky him.
The halfway point of his journey was an empty building surrounded by a parking lot, the shadows of parking spaces still visible among the weeds. The place was a liquor store that sold to anyone taller than the doorknob. It was Tony’s go-to in high school when he needed to stock up for parties. Years ago, the place was robbed. The owner pulled his gun and everyone started shooting. It remained closed until a bunch of kids broke in to steal the alcohol left on the shelves. After that it was cleaned out and locked up.
That’s how Tony felt, cleaned out and locked up.
Across the street from Tony’s house, Adele Lawrence feigned sleep until her husband drove off for his tee-time at the club. She’d run out of early morning small talk years ago. Adele loved her family, her silent husband, her daughters Jenny and Megan, and Megan’s three daughters who preferred to spend hours on their phones, laptops, X-Box, Wii, and PlayStation instead of riding bikes outside. Megan and her family lived close by but running a successful real estate business while raising three daughters didn’t leave time for morning coffee with mom. Lingering in bed a little longer meant not having to go downstairs and face the silent house. It felt like a tomb.
Her oldest daughter, Jenny, lived four states away. She was a successful lawyer who insisted on throwing her life away on a string of married men.
“Why do they always have to be married?”
“Because I’m not expected to spend all my time taking care of him. That’s what his wife is for.”
Adele never asked again.
While the coffee finished brewing, Adele closed her eyes, a quick prayer to ask that neither Jenny nor Megan ever wake up with the same empty feeling gnawing away at their insides. The only thing she had to look forward to five mornings a week was Tony Hanover arriving home from work. He was the only sign of life left on East Walnut, a street once littered with children playing outside on their bikes.
East Walnut Street was located in Lakeview Heights, a suburb of a suburb of a moderately sized city forty miles away. There was no lake, the developers ran out of money, and no heights. The land all around was so flat you could see for miles. And if you didn’t love football, you kept that negativity to yourself.
Rumors of Tony’s athletic prowess preceded he and his mom, Rosie’s move to the neighborhood. Rosie was a single mom, a rare thing in a Lakeview Heights, who got a raw deal in the divorce. Tony’s dad moved to Florida with his new bride while Rosie picked up an extra job to afford the great school district Lakeview offered. With Rosie working late five nights a week the Hanover house became the de facto hangout. The only rule was everyone had to be gone by 8pm, so Tony could have dinner with his mom.
Adele Lawrence was the first to arrive with a plate of cookies wrapped in a light blue tea towel.
“Welcome to the neighborhood,” she shouted, when Rosie opened the door.
Looking over her shoulder at the mess of half-unpacked boxes behind her, Rosie offered to invite Adele in at a later time.
“Not a problem,” Adele replied. “I’ll come back when you’ve got everything set up.”
That visit never happened because Rosie never had the time.
Next up was Coach Fisher.
“Mrs. Hanover,” he said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “Tony’s got pro written all over him. I’ll get him into a great program. This kid’s got a great future ahead of him.”
Coach’s words echoed in his brain as he stopped to gas-up. He kept his head down. One never knows when they’ll run into a high school classmate who believed the past championships still gave them bragging rights. All Tony wanted was to forget the past.
Sun was streaming into the kitchen window as Adele fixed her coffee and a plate of her chocolate and peanut butter Easter eggs. It would be time to open the pool soon, even though no one used it ever since Megan got one of her own. The weekend promised to be sunny and unseasonably warm. For a change they should have Easter dinner on the patio, something simpler than Adele usually planned. The idea shocked her. She’d built her homemaker reputation on holiday dinners. Twice the local paper came out to take photos of her table, laden with food, the dishes, tablecloths, and napkins decorated to match the season. But that was then. Now, it felt foolish to spend two days preparing a meal that was over in an hour, then spend another hour bribing the granddaughters to help clean up.
Gathering her mug and plate with three chocolate eggs, Adele headed to what Megan and Jenny called her perch. Under the big bay window in the front of the house sat her grandmother’s antique couch from the 1920s, restored with imported shantung. It was only ever used for photos; first and last day of school, Christmas cards, all other holidays including July 4th, and whenever her husband won the golf tournament at the club – the family sitting up straight and proud behind the trophy.
The granddaughters had no interest.
“Mom,” Megan said after every failed attempt, “the kids aren’t interested in sitting for photos. They carry a camera in their pocket. Photos aren’t precious.”
Maybe not to them.
Placing the coffee cup and plate of chocolate eggs on the windowsill, Adele leaned on the arm of the couch. She never sat. Too much sitting would ruin the lush material. Only one other house on East Walnut had decorated for Easter. She could remember when every tree and bush was adorned with plastic eggs. She was the only one who still bothered with that tradition. She used to have to hide her homemade eggs or they wouldn’t last until Easter. With the granddaughters joining their mother on a perpetual diet, no one ate them now. At least if Jenny were home, she would’ve taken some back to the office.
On weekends Tony stuck to his vampire schedule, staying up most of the night watching shows he recorded during the week. Around four in the morning he’d switch to porn out of habit. It no longer inspired him. Sex was the same as football, a world he once knew well but no longer participated in.
Back when he was still in AA his sponsor told him, “Loneliness and machismo aren’t going to save you, Tony. It only builds a fortress, different from the one drinking built but still impenetrable.”
It wasn’t like he didn’t want to see friends. Two years after he stopped drinking, he went to a BBQ at a co-workers house. After finishing his third beer in under an hour, he went to the bathroom and forced himself to vomit. Sweaty and panicking, he slipped away and drove home. Staying in the house every single day for the rest of his life guaranteed he would have a rest of his life.
“What’s the point?” Adele murmured to herself.
What was the point of hanging eggs off a tree or trying to talk to daughters who don’t want to listen or planning a holiday dinner or having a retired husband who was around less than when he commuted to the city forty-miles away? What was the point of looking out the window every morning?
Instead of giving in to the tears, Adele forced herself to smile. She thought of her daughters hopping the back fence of the Hanover’s house. It was amusing that Jenny and Megan never figured out the neighbors would always let her know when her daughters were climbing fences.
When Jenny and Tony began dating, Jenny started using the front door.
Adele took a sip of coffee. These old memories. What was the point of them?
After Tony’s head injury, Rosie brought him home. She shut the house up with Tony inside. Adele told herself they needed privacy. Tony had a head and neck injury, he needed time to heal. Truthfully, she never thought Tony was good enough for Jenny. So dumb of her to think that. Her grandmother used to say, “Better the devil you know.”
Three months after Tony’s injury, Jenny came home from college in the middle of the week. Tony had broken up with her. No matter how long Jenny banged on the front door or how many times Rosie let her inside, he refused to see her. She went back to school, then grad school, then jobs and married men.
Rosie passed away eighteen months later. He consoled his broken heart with women, coming and going at all hours.
Adele kept a list:
- Pretty, short blonde hair, medium height, chubby – 3.5 weeks
- Pretty, nose too big for face, long dark hair, too skinny – 2 weeks
- Tall girl, long dark hair, might be Paul Joseph’s daughter – 4 days
Megan was livid.
“You’re spying on him,” she said, pacing around the kitchen.
“I don’t spy, I watch. I’ve been watching this neighborhood since you were in diapers.”
“What if Jenny finds out? She still talks about him.” Megan stopped pacing and hoisted herself onto the kitchen counter.
“She never mentions him to me,” Adele said.
“Because she wouldn’t. Jenny is worried about him. Stop spying.”
“I’m not spying, I’m helping.” Even to her own ears Adele sounded defensive.
“By spying!” Megan jumped off the counter and resumed pacing. “Maybe Jenny is still holding out hope. Can you at least respect that?”
“Then maybe Jenny should visit more. Go over and see him when she’s home and stop dating unattainable men.”
Adele stopped taking notes. That didn’t stop the women, every two weeks, like clockwork, shouting “Tony, grow the fuck up” before slamming his front door.
The women were eventually replaced by alcohol deliveries, reports of fights at local bars and fender benders. One night, Tony took out a telephone pole, plunging the entire neighborhood into darkness. That brought an uncle Adele had never seen to Lakeview Heights. He stopped by to say hello when she was unpacking groceries, wanting to know if Tony had been much of a bother.
“Of course not, never.” Adele said.
The lawn in front of Tony’s house was a mess of weeds. The uncle explained that he contracted a lawn company to show up twice a month. Before leaving to pick Tony up from the outpatient program, he said, “At least the factory is letting him keep his job.”
A car sped by, waking Adele from her dream. She’d eaten all three chocolate eggs. It wouldn’t hurt to get another, it was a holiday weekend after all. According to her phone, she had two minutes until Tony arrived.
Before turning onto East Walnut a smile spread across Tony’s face. It was time for his favorite game: ignore the old lady in the window.
After all these years Mrs. Lawrence still surveyed the neighborhood every morning, noon and night. He liked to think the highlight of her morning was watching him drive by because the highlight of his was to pretend she wasn’t there.
As he passed the Williams’ house, two away from his, he hit the button on the garage door remote, perfectly timed for him to drive into the garage without having to slow down. Once inside he stayed in the truck until the door hit the concrete. It wasn’t until he was in his kitchen that he realized Mrs. Lawrence wasn’t at the window that morning.
On her way back to the front window with more chocolate eggs and a fresh cup of coffee, Adele heard Tony’s garage door slam shut. Dammit. She’d missed him.
In the years since locking himself away Tony hadn’t opened the blinds once. While waiting for his fancy espresso machine to spit out coffee, he checked that all the cabinets were closed. Then he checked the freezer for nothing in particular before moving around the neat piles of mail covering the kitchen table. The sun shining on the other side of his dark curtains made him restless.
He thought about Mrs. Lawrence not being there for him to ignore. He knew how much work she put into her holiday dinners. She was probably already setting the table for Easter. Adele Lawrence was proud of her table-scaping.
Jenny used to call her mother’s holiday preparations maniacal. She swore Mrs. Lawrence’s self-worth was tied directly to how good her dining room table looked.
Jenny. He tries hard not to think of her.
The aroma of expensive coffee filling the room usually quieted his mind. It was a signal that he was home and safe, with everything he needed until it was time to go back to work. Holding his coffee cup with both hands, he inhaled the delicious aroma. It wasn’t enough to get get Mrs. Lawrence’s absence out of his head. It was possible she fell after Mr. Lawrence left to play golf. Of course she would have her cell phone close by, unless she fell in the dining room and her phone was in the kitchen. Panic rose in his chest. If he called the ambulance, what would he say?
Sorry to bother you but the nosy lady who lives across the street wasn’t in her window this morning. You should check on her.
Megan’s number was still in his phone, he could call her.
Buzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Tony almost dropped his coffee. It took him a moment to realize that awful noise was the doorbell.
Buzzzzzzzzzzzz.
He couldn’t believe it still worked.
Buzzzzzzzzzzzz.
The front door was made of solid wood with three small windows near the top that fanned out like a starburst. Standing next to the door, face inches away from the windows, Tony peeked out and withdrew immediately.
“Tony, it’s Mrs. Lawrence from across the street. I’ve brought you some homemade Easter eggs. Peanut butter.”
No time to think. It’s fourth and goal. Sometimes, you just have to go for it.
“Mrs. Lawrence!” He didn’t mean to shout her name when he opened the door.
Adele Lawrence was once again standing at the Hanover’s front door, holding a plate of sweets. This time the tea towel was light pink and covered in bunnies wearing bowties. She appeared as nervous as he felt.
“I made some peanut butter Easter eggs and I remembered that you liked them. Thought I’d bring some over.” She swallowed hard. “For you to enjoy.”
His brain screamed ‘shut the door’. Instead, he asked her in for coffee.
Stepping into the darkness Adele paused. “You like it dark in here. That’s great for the summer, keeps the house cooler.”
The room was neat and tidy, full of old furniture from Tony’s childhood. In the far corner was a large recliner with built-in massage settings, flanked by two end tables, positioned in front of a massive flat screen. On one table sat a pile of Sports Illustrated held down by a book. An open box of vape cartridges covered the other table. On the floor next to the recliner sat a case of water.
Taking the plate of chocolate and eggs he asked, “Would you like espresso or coffee, Mrs. Lawrence?”
“Please call me Adele. I could make the coffee if you like.”
“Already have a pot on,” he said, hoping it didn’t sound like he was expecting her.
To his dismay she followed him into the kitchen. He glanced at the table covered in mail.
“I watched a true crime documentary on people stealing identities. They shift through the trash and steal the credit card offers. As soon as I get a shredder, I’m going to clean this up.”
Retrieving a cup and a plate, Tony wiping them quickly with a towel. He couldn’t guess the last time he used more than one cup and one plate at a time.
“At least it’s neat. Neat as a pin.” Adele laughed nervously, then said. “That was a silly thing to say.”
They settled on the couch in the living room, Tony had to try three lamps before he found one with a bulb in it. “They burn out and I forget to replace them. I’m so busy with work and all, it’s hard to remember.”
“You could open up the curtains.”
“I like to keep them closed. Working overnight it’s easy to mess up your cicada rhythm. Right now, I’m on the vampire schedule, sleeping in the day and stuff.” He was bullshitting his way through the conversation having only a vague idea what the hell cicada rhythms were. “I remember how good these eggs are.”
“Megan said she ran into you awhile back.” Adele sat on the couch, back straight, legs crossed at the ankles. “I know she mentioned it.”
Tony nodded, mouth full of peanut butter and chocolate, trying to remember the last time he ran into Megan. Had to be three or four years.
“It was probably longer ago than a while back, now that I think about it,” Adele said, toying with one of the eggs on her plate.
“Is Jenny coming home this weekend?” Instant regret as soon as the question left his mouth.
Her name hung in the air between them. Tony was supposed to go pro and Jenny was supposed to go with him. It didn’t happen and they didn’t happen.
“Work keeps her busy.” Adele took a sip of coffee then dabbed the corners of her mouth with a paper towel. The chocolate eggs sat untouched. “That fancy machine makes good coffee.” She was talking too loudly, panic began to rise in her chest. “It’s not work that’s keeping Jenny away. It’s her boss, her married boss that she’s been carrying on with. She only comes home when they’re broken up. And it’s not like they’re going to have a great weekend together. She’ll see him Saturday, if he can get away, then spend Sunday alone. She won’t leave if there’s any chance she can see him. And her father is no help. I swear that man has no idea what the hell is happening around him. The world could be exploding and all he worries about is knocking a little white ball into a tiny hole a mile away. I almost wish he was having an affair but he’s not. I would know. The whole damn neighborhood would know.” To stop herself from talking she shoved a chocolate egg into her mouth and then another.
“I’m sorry to hear about all that, Mrs. –, I mean Adele.”
Neither looked at the other.
Quietly, she said, “I stand at that window and you are the only person I see. Every morning it feels like the entire neighborhood snuck away in the middle of the night. When I see you come home from work, I think, ‘thank God, at least someone is still out there.’ I know it sounds crazy.” Adele paused, her hands were shaking and she was beginning to perspire. “I’m sorry, Tony.”
Tony sat very still, hoping she wasn’t about to have a seizure or faint or die.
“I’m sorry for all of it. For not doing more, for not being there more after your injury. For not comforting my daughter when things between you got stressful. For not being a better friend to your mother or to anyone. Not sure I’ve ever been a good friend.”
Tony shook his head. “Adele, even if you tried, I would’ve had my mom turn you away. I used to think about my future as a long hallway, plush carpeting on the floor, framed photos of my successes lining the walls. The end of the hallway was brightly lit and wide open leading to a packed stadium of cheering fans. I believed when I finally reached the end and stepped onto the field my life would begin. I never got there. My life stopped.”
“It didn’t have to.” Adele touched Tony’s arm then withdrew immediately.
“I still struggle with short term memory, that’s the worst of it. There was a chance it could have been worse. I didn’t want Jenny tied to a guy who might end up a drooling lump.”
“Megan has mentioned that Jenny still asks about you.” Tony raised an eyebrow. Adele hoped he wouldn’t ask how long it been. “But not to me. Jenny doesn’t really ever say much to me.”
“Tell Jenny I asked about her. Next time you talk.”
Adele smiled and nodded.
“You weren’t there this morning,” He was desperate to change the subject.
“I was being bad, helping myself to more chocolate eggs.”
“I was afraid something bad happened to you. When you rang the doorbell, I was standing in the kitchen debating if I should call the ambulance.”
“That would have brought the neighbors out. But never call my husband, he’s too busy with his mistress, a tiny white ball he hits with a club.” Tony looked shocked. “A little golf-widow humor.”
They laughed.
“Come by for Easter dinner, we’re going causal this year, a simple meal on the patio if the weather holds up, otherwise, it’s a simple meal in the dining room. Megan would love to see you. And I would too.”
“I can’t be around alcohol,” Tony replied.
“We’re starting a new tradition this year, alcohol-free holiday dinners. Every year we end up drinking too much and spend the rest of the evening sniping at each other. Then Megan and her family leave and my heart is in my throat until she calls and I know they’re safe. Those who want drinks can do it somewhere else.”
Tony smiled. Jenny always said she wanted their kids to have his smile. “Not sure the rest of the family will like that.”
“I don’t care,” she said. “I make the food, I set the table, I do most of the cleaning up. If they don’t like it, they can eat somewhere else. Hold onto my dish and the tea towel, you can bring them over on Sunday.”
“And if I don’t come?”
“Then I’ll have an excuse to come back for more of this delicious coffee.”
After she left, Tony picked up her empty coffee mug. Underneath was a piece of paper with “How about a do-over?” and Jenny’s phone number written on it.
An hour after returning home, Adele was back to monitoring an empty East Walnut Street, sitting comfortably on the arm of the couch, shantung be damned. Over at Tony’s house, the curtains in his front window were wide open.