Two rusty stakes next door aren't the type of thing one notices when one is purchasing a bachelor home for the first time.
Dave saw the sand, figured the family had a dog who liked to dig, and Dave loved dogs.
The clinks, the incessant clinks and rattles made Dave notice the stakes.
Horseshoes.
Dave turned up the TV a little louder.
When annoyance started to creep in, started to work its way into his psyche like a bad smell from a kitchen garbage can, he caught himself.
It's a family, Dave. Before the summer is over you’ll be there drinking beer and playing horseshoes with them.
Then Dave heard something else.
Silences.
No laughter.
Clinks.
Silences.
No laughter, no banter, no voices.
He twisted at an awkward angle, deciding too late that standing would have been easier, and pulled the curtains back.
The woman he bought the house from had made such a big deal about leaving the damn curtains-maroon with pears? Pears, he was pretty sure-that he was gonna keep ‘em up for a few weeks, in case she changed her mind. He got the house for a steal. The closing was smooth. No sense hurting her feelings.
An evergreen blocked part of Dave’s view of the neighbor’s yard.
He let the curtain drop.
Wasn’t gonna be the nosy neighbor.
Clink. Clink.
Silence.
Dave stood this time, looked out again. Saw a kid about thirteen trudging across the lawn, empty-handed, walking slowly, head down. Long, strawberry blonde hair, the ends of which rested on his shoulders.Barefoot. Dave thought that a little odd for this time of year, but he had done some weird shit as a kid.
***
Clink. Clink.Crash.
Dave let the last rep drop, weights he was lifting kissing the weights beneath a little too hard.
Felt his face flush.
He was slightly out of shape.
Happy though. This community center had more shit to do under one roof than he had in the entire county he grew up in.
Dave treated himself to a sauna. It was deserted. Tempting to stay in there too long.
Got dressed, walked along the hallway that doubled as an observation deck for the skating rink.
Youth game going on.
Dave leaned in, a bit envious.
Growing up down south there were no rinks.
Parents yelled from both sides of the bleachers. The sheer energy of the room made Dave think it was a tight game, maybe a playoff.
Scoreboard said 9 for the Home Team, 0 away.
Almost a baseball score.
Dave let the chill of the little arena wash over him. Felt great after a sauna.
The parent’s harsh voices stirred him from his relaxation.
He stood to leave when he saw a kid skating circles around kids in the neutral zone, almost dancing on ice, picking up the puck, gaining speed and scoring.
As his teammates celebrated, he pumped his fist just once before skating to the bench, strawberry blonde hair trailing behind his helmet.
***
Foreign film Rebeccah had recommended when they were still married. Portuguese with subtitles.
Dave muted it, put his feet up on his new sofa.
On the screen, a man in a ruffled shirt sat next to a woman in a restaurant, obviously uninvited.
Clink.
Clink.
Dave didn’t want to turn up the TV.
He waited for voices.
Laughter.
Silence.
Clink.
Clink.
Dave pulled back the curtain.
The pears were reaching their expiration date.
The kid again. Alone. Trudging. Head down.
Dave lost his Lab mix in the divorce. Needed a friend.
He took his shoes off and walked out the back door, hopped the chainlink fence.
“Teach me how to play this game?”
The blonde kid flinched.
“What the hell, dude?”
Dave flushed.
“Sorry. I guess I should have asked permission. Mind if I play? It’s been a while.”
Dave had been okay at horseshoes, but he spent way more time wrestling, playing video games. Thought it was kinda sweet this kid played such an analog, old-timey sport.
“If you want.”
“I’m Dave.”
“I know. We accidentally got some of your mail. I brought it over.”
The kid didn’t offer his name. Maybe he was shy.
“Thanks,” Dave said. “You seem to play a lotta horseshoes.”
It was the kid’s turn to flush. He looked back at his house, then away from Dave.
“I guess.”
The kid handed Dave the horseshoes.
“You got any tricks?” Dave asked.
The kid flinched again.
Dave was positive that his neighbor kid was the same sweet skating, confident, humble kid he saw at the ice rink.
But the kid in front of him was different. Shy, almost timid, skittish.
“Pointers, I mean. Things that will make me a better pitcher?”
“I like to flip ‘em. It looks cool when they’re flying.”
Dave knew lots of flippers when he was growing up.
He tossed the shoes toward the far stake. Both of them off to the right. He was fine with that. He didn’t want to come over and show the kid up.
“Why are you barefoot?” the kid asked.
Dave looked down at the kid’s dusty Vans.
“I saw you playing barefoot, thought it might be a house rule.”
“You watched me play horseshoes?”
Dave felt as creepy as the kid made it sound. Tried to dig out of it.
“Saw a kid who looked like you play hockey a few weeks ago, just wondered if you were the same kid.”
The kid’s eyes narrowed.
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