The house looked better with the ugly green door propped open so he could move his belongings in.
Sevvy mentally added “paint the door” to the small list of things he needed to do.
His sofa would be delivered Wednesday.
After the bed and dresser were in the house, Roddy begged off to go pregame some concert.
“You could come with me, Uncle Sev. Stuy would melt your face off.”
Sevvy considered it briefly, riding a little glow that his sister’s kid would even want him hanging out with him.
“Send me some video,” Sevvy said. “If I like ‘em I’ll go next time they come around.”
Sevvy moved a chair from the dining room out on to the low flat cement slab that counted as a porch.
Neighbor was waxing a newer muscle car, even had some sort of white suds on the tires.
The guy looked up at Sevvy, over the floor mats he had draped over the chain link fence the houses shared.
“Welcome,” he said, more of a grunt than a greeting.
“Hi,” Sevvy said. “Sevvy. With an S. Rhymes with Chevy,” he added, immediately realizing the muscle car was a Dodge.
“Nick,” the guy said, like he had to think about it.
Made Sevvy wonder if the guy was in witness protection and had forgotten his new name.
The three recently constructed, nearly identical houses on this little dead end had seemed to Sevvy like the kind of place the Feds would stash a witness.
It had been a humorous thought til he saw Nick, looked like a fitness buff, tan, a single U.S. Army Ranger tattoo on his bicep, waxing his car wearing a dress watch.
Nick stood from a crouch and walked over to the fence.
He looked at Sevvy’s yard, not at Sevvy.
“These lawns don’t drain right,” Nick said. “Been dry lately, but when we get rain they puddle.”
Sevvy looked out and noticed a few brownish patches, nothing major.
“Mosquitos,” Nick said.
Nick walked into his back door.
Sevvy thought maybe he was getting a couple beers or pops to be neighborly.
Nick emerged with a pamphlet and held it over the fence, obviously expecting Sevvy to walk over and grab it.
Sevvy complied with the unspoken demand.
“Call these people. They’ll set ya right.”
Sevvy glanced. A drainage system that looked more like a buried air conditioner.
“ I spent time in Somalia. Can’t stand mosquitos. Give these guys a call. My nephew works for’em. They do good work. Reasonable.”
Nick walked back to his car, leaving the floor mats draped over the fence.
***
Three weeks later Sevvy was running from his mailbox to his royal blue front door through a downpour, congratulating himself on a great color choice.
There were three bills that found him at his new address, three that hadn’t found their way to wherever the previous tenant lived. They hadn’t left a forwarding address.
And a pamphlet for the drainage company.
Sevvy cracked a Vernors, whiffed the plant his coworkers had given him as a housewarming, and looked out into a backyard that was accumulating water.
Checked the website on the pamphlet.
Not in his budget at the moment.
Harold and Quisha had been let go, and according to Ellie B, more cuts were coming.
It was just water.
***
Softball had been rained out two weeks in a row, which was a real downer, and there was a question if Morgan was still eligible to play for the Upright Marketing team since he had been axed the month before.
The silver lining for Sevvy is that he had been able to attend a Caveman and Bam Bam show with Roddy on one of the rainout nights.
After a quick beer near Rotunda Field, Sevvy came home to two more bills. He tossed them on the table and walked out to the back porch.
Through the sliding door, in the wash of Nick’s floodlight, he saw three ducks swimming in the center of the yard.
Do ducks eat mosquitoes?
Maybe Nick didn’t have anything to worry about.
Sevvy tossed an orthopedist’s bill from a twisted ankle at softball into the trash.
He looked at the drainage pamphlet and tossed that too.
***
Sevvy crawled into bed, restless from no softball, but head tired from work and the specter of layoffs.
He had crossed his personal deadline for owning his own home by seven years, and was glad he made the move, but the timing was starting to feel really bad.
There was some nighttime cold medicine in the bathroom. He didn’t have a cold but…
His phone rang, startled him, and when he saw it was Ellie B on the other end, he knew.
Sevvy answered, letting his head fall back into the pillow.
***
His tie was already chafing his neck before Sevvy made it to the garage for a drive to a job interview with Walsh and Piedmont.
He had never worn a tie at Upright.
“Hey!”
Nick startled the shit out of him.
“I was serious about getting that yard drained. I’m not having no mosquito infestations. Part of your obligation as a homeowner.”
Sevvy looked at Nick, swallowed a fuck off, scuffled his feet a bit.
“I’m laid off, Nick. A bit overextended on the house, inspector never gave me the heads up about a drainage issue. It’s just not gonna happen this year, ok? I’m sorry, but that’s the reality.”
“Want me to loan you the money, Chevy? I will. No interest.”
“That’s nice, Nick, but honestly, groceries are even going to be a little tight this month. I’m not gonna go into debt to a neighbor for some…some…cosmetic thing for my backyard.”
“Not cosmetic. Squitos carry disease.”
Nick was glaring through Sevvy. It made him feel hot.
“Get it done,” Nick demanded.
“I’m not gonna starve because you don’t like bugs, Nick. Sorry.”
***
Sevvy read Walsh and Piedmont’s rejection email three times before slamming his laptop shut.
He’d start driving for a ride service tomorrow, wanted to get an early start.
Half a bottle of night time cold medicine for a guy with no cold and no job seemed to make sense.
There was a black and white western on TV.
Horses.
Train robberies.
Sevvy giggled. The good old days.
As he drifted off in a dextromethorphan haze, he swore the shotguns sounded real.
***
Sevvy wandered up to his door, head spinning from staring at a GPS all day.
The airport runs sucked, but at least he didn’t have the urge or the budget to get on a plane.
The casino runs were worse because he ached to follow the client in and play some blackjack himself.
Almost camouflaged by his door was a blue cooler on his porch that didn’t belong to him.
There was a note on it addressed to Chevy.
He brought it inside, set it on the kitchen counter.
The note read:
I won’t let a neighbor starve. But get the G-- Damn drainage system.
The dashes after the G were angry. The pen had ripped through the paper.
Underneath the note were two foil-wrapped things the size of footballs.
Sevvy lifted one out, peeled back the foil, saw a lemon slice and some rosemary.
He peeled back more of the foil, and fought a battle with himself to not believe that he was looking at a fully cooked duck.
***
Nick means business, man!
I always look forward to your last sentences! With very few words you paint a picture of irony, surprise, sometimes sadness…this one with the foil-wrapped duck!🤣. Love it.