by Danielle Vecchio
Charlie always pulled Iris to the right of the house when they went for his morning walk. But today, Charlie sniffed something going on to the left of their house. A basset hound’s nose rarely deceives him. It was a warm spring morning, and the sun was shining on two big robin egg blue moving trucks in the neighbor’s driveway. Iris couldn’t imagine having that much stuff in one house to fill those trucks. She stared at the bold black letters, almost hypnotized by them: The Big Blue Moving Company: You Pack It, We Move It.
“Oh my God!,” Iris mumbled to herself while slowly moving her trembling fingers over her lips. “The Joneses are moving? Why didn’t they tell us? I hope everything’s ok. Why the hell wouldn’t they tell us?”
Charlie tugged at his leash as he always did when they passed the Joneses’ house. He was dying to get into their vegetable garden.
“No, no boy. You can’t go in there, you know that. Maybe we’ll stop in on the way back.”
Iris had to drag herself away from her neighbor’s house too. She was dumbfounded that her neighbors, her friends, of fifteen years would pack up and move without a word to her or Scott. Surely, if they had mentioned it to Scott, he would have said something to her about it. They would have planned a ‘goodbye dinner’ for the Joneses.
“Dinner,” Iris thought. “All of the dinners she and Scott shared with the Joneses.” A faint smile crept across her sullen face. She thought back to a beautiful May morning, much like this one, fifteen years ago when Iris and Scott pulled up to their first new home in the tiny rented U-Haul. They were only recently married and didn’t have much to fill a house with, but quickly they made their new, old tudor their home. Scott was relieved when he saw his wife enjoying their new life. It was a long and difficult time trying to persuade Iris to leave the conveniences of the city and move to the country. Every time he brought up the topic of moving, she ranted about how much she loved the city, and how much better her moods were in the city. But Scott persisted and promised a home in a community where neighbors invited you to dinner and BBQs, and wine by a fire pit in the fall. And the kids! Oh they would, no doubt, have their family of three children. The kids would play manhunt at night with flashlights with their best friends who lived next door and go trick-or-treating in the cul-de-sac while the parents had their own Halloween fun bobbing for apples in cheap wine. Iris found herself daydreaming about this busy and safe life and started to soften to the idea of country living.
Charlie finished sniffing his usual haunts, did his business and barked Iris’ attention back to the blue moving trucks. She saw the moving guys in their blue overalls carrying a large piece of furniture covered in drop cloths. “The antique armoire,” she whispered. She always loved looking at that piece when she visited the Joneses and the story of how Sara Jones came to own it added even more to the aura of the piece. The Joneses were honeymooning in Greece and on a rainy day while shopping at a street market Sara saw the armoire and ran to the attendant to ask the price. The stall keeper chuckled and said it would be too expensive to ship to America, and Sara moved on to the next stall, disappointed and thinking about how the armoire would make a lovely addition to her living room. The next morning her husband said he was going to the beach before her to secure a good spot and that he would wait for her there while she finished the business call she was expecting. What Sara didn’t know was that Ronny already spoke with hotel management to secure the armoire at the market for him. He paid for it and made the arrangements for the armoire to ship to their home. He even expedited the shipment, at a tremendous cost, so the armoire would arrive only a day after their return. Sara burst into tears when the doorbell rang, and she opened the door to a deliveryman saying he had a special package from Greece.
“Oh, God,” Iris thought, “how I’m going to miss them. Ronny and Sara. And the Friday night card games and baking holiday cookies on the first Sunday in December with cheesy holiday music blaring while the guys watched football, and the Sunday nights by the fire pit in their backyard laughing and drinking and trying to keep the new work week at bay, and the long drives with Sara Jones on crisp autumn Saturday mornings. Iris loved those drives to the orchards to buy fresh pies and to pick vegetables. On the drive home they talked about what they would cook that night with their fresh goods and which one of them would host the evening. They always took turns hosting but if it was up to Iris, she would host every Saturday night.
Memories of autumn then turned to thoughts of winter. Iris would miss the Joneses most in winter. Winters were a big reason she didn’t want to leave the city in the first place. No matter how cold it got or how much snow covered the streets, winters in the city rarely caused more than a mere inconvenience to life. But, in the country? A bad winter could homebound a person for days—a terrifying thought for Iris and one of the things she spoke most about when she visited Dr. Lauren. The doctor even called Scott to express her concern about moving Iris to the country.
Another bark from Charlie alerted Iris to a passing car. She jumped back and they finished the walk, never stopping by to see the Joneses.
* * *
Hours later, when Iris heard Scott’s car pull up to the house, she slumped off the couch and went to meet him on the front porch.
“Hi honey,” Scott started to say with a smile until he noticed his wife’s disheveled hair and sunken face. “What’s wrong, baby?”
He heard a barely audible, “Did you see them?”
“See what? Honey, let’s go inside. Did you have a bad day again?”
“The blue moving trucks,” Iris whispered.
“The moving trucks? ” Scott said with confusion.
“Yes, the trucks. Near the Joneses’ house. They’re moving today Scott, and without even a word about it. After all the time we’ve spent together. Why on earth wouldn’t they have told us?”
Scott looked carefully at his wife, “Honey, let’s, let’s go inside and talk. Did you take your meds today? You look upset. Why are you still in your pajamas?”
“Stop with all the questions, Scott!” Iris yelled, trembling. “Did you know they were moving? Did you keep it from me because you thought I couldn’t handle it? You did, didn’t you? You knew, but you were afraid of upsetting your fragile little wife. Well, to hell with you Scott! The Joneses are my friends too!”
“Ok baby. Calm down. Let’s go inside. We’ll have a drink together.”
Scott carefully put his arm around his wife’s fragile waist as he gently ushered her through their cherrywood front door with a Christmas wreath still hanging over the knocker. Closing the door behind him he gently said, “Baby, let’s sit on the couch and talk for a moment.”
Iris slumped back to her spot on the couch. Scott began to open the shades to the windows and the setting sun shined on the gray walls and beige rug in the living room. There was a half empty glass of water and crumpled tissues on the coffee table. A slightly eaten stale bagel was stuck to the paper napkin underneath it.
Scott began to clean the table and said, “Hey, sweetheart, it’s a beautiful spring evening. Why don’t we go out for a bite to eat and take a walk by the lake?”
Iris was laying on her side on the couch looking blankly at the wall that had a generic painting of a beach landscape hanging crooked on a nail. She didn’t answer.
Scott stood above her, staring at her with a solemn look on his face. “I’m sorry you had a bad day, Iris. I’ll make us some dinner. We can eat on the deck and enjoy the fresh air.”
Scott picked up the tissues and bagel and glass from the coffee table and started to walk toward the kitchen. He paused, continuing to face the kitchen, not Iris, when he asked in a gentle voice, “Iris? Babe? Who are the Joneses?”
© 2024 Danielle Vecchio All rights reserved.
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