good neighbors (the day my moms met my father)

we had to write a short story with character descriptions given to us by someone else. Be kind it is my first short story. It was due on Valentine's day so there had to be love in it as well.

 

Damn, 4:30 ‘ready - thought Rhonda when she heard the crash of their mail hitting the screen door even harder than usual. ‘Ole Chronic Cracker’ must be in a snit. That’s what the kids called the postman who lived next door. She gives him enough time to get in his house before she opens the door.  They [her house] was always the last to get their mail on account he was one house away. He hasn’t made it up two steps yet?  The neck bones! She better get into the kitchen and start simmerin’ them before her mama come home from the hospital. The front porch was just getting the hint of a breeze, first one all day. She went around to the parlor to play Whitney Houston’s new album, you know the one with “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” 

She felt like blasting it; but the record was already getting’ worn down in the beginning grooves where she would bounce the needle; no sense blowin’ the speakers too.  Any way she would hear Chronic yell from his house, “Turn that jungle music off!” 

“At least he doesn’t use profanity” her mama said… when she told her. The truth is his wife worked in the same hospital as mama. She was lucky her mother was a nurse in Hendricks’s health center emergency room ‘cause she’s had asthma ever since she could remember breathing.  

Rhonda went back toward the kitchen to wash her hands when she saw Chronic, through his window, headin’ toward his refrigerator really fast like he was trying to keep his balance. It was all she could do to keep from laughin’ when he disappeared with a snap; like his head hit ‘gainst somethin,’ then crunching like broken glass. 

While straining trying to get a higher angle on tippy toes to see if he was movin;’ she reached for phone to dial the E.R. She didn’t hear not one groan or no swearin.’  Was he dead? Jo picked up; when she went to answer Jo’s Hello, she had to muster her deepest breath to speak over the wheezing; panic and the reality of the situation set in. 

She got out “Mr. Gonic and 24 Military Trail Rd.; he’s not moving, he maybe bleeding. I can’t see. He’s on the kitchen floor. When her mother got on the phone,

“What happen’d, you alright Rhonda?” Now she had to find the inhaler. Her mama was usually a calming influence on Rhonda. “RHONDA, Stay put. Someone’ll be right there. 

She was still. And, she was still waiting for some kind of movement.

When the day’s second good breeze brushed the leaves ‘gainst the Pear tree in his yard she went out the back door; through the grass; to the corner of their yards where she was always skinny enough to fit through the fence. When Rhonda got to his kitchen door she saw him face down; sprawled out with pieces of a little Jack Daniel’s bottle shattered by his side: He is still breathing; parts of his graying hair growing red.

The sirens scream around the corner; the EM workers are at the front door. It’s locked. Rhonda goes to his front door and lets them in. 

As they’re getting him on to the gurney and cleaning the blood from his head she sees his face for the first time. She sees he’s not wrinkly and twisted, but kinda handsome with almost soft features. Elgin, one of the E.M. workers thinks the same of Rhonda; for a second their eyes meet. She can feel the warmth from his gaze; like somehow everything was where it was supposed to be and it was all so beautiful!

“What are you doin’ in my house Neegra?” manages John Gonic, recovering from his head trauma.

“Savin’your life... Sir.” Elgin says with a fake bow of his head; keeping his eyes on Rhonda. His eyes were like scalpels, gleamin’ and “for your own good” as her mama would say. 

 “I was talkin’ about her; don’t leave her here to steal me outta house and home!” She reaches for the inhaler. Elgin says, “Try not to speak,” as they bounce their charge down his front steps.  Rhonda turns to lock the door again. She calls out, “his wife works the night shift at the Hospital!” Elgin smiles, “We know, Rhonda.” 

Rhonda blushes, “How you know my name?” 

Elgin says, “Big world - small town; hope to see you again; you sure you’re o.k.”

As he loads the ambulance Rhonda smiles and nods.

Reviews

[Sara Muschweck]

Great first short story. The characters are so real, flawed and human. I was pulled in and enjoyed reading each line. This was just a wonderful story of how small everyday things can bring the hero out of you. She could have ignored the neighbor and his falling, she could have turned a blind eye, yet she took a stand and called for help. Even when the old man woke and started verbally abusing the girl again she did not say anything. Bravo. I loved this one, you should write stories more often.

[John Braswell]

Big world - small town Great line

Good read