the boy next door

It’s nice to be taken care of. It had been so long since she hadn’t had to play the role of protector and caregiver, it was hard, surely, but for Ainsley it was her normal and to know anything else was weird to her and beyond her fundamental understanding. It took her out of her element.

But he was a sweet boy, and she couldn’t fault him for it; besides, there was something about him that just rang out to her like sonar.

“That long, huh?” It was surprising to be honest, that he had lived next door to this big old house for his whole life and had yet to actually be inside it. Surely other house members before her would have let him in to take a peak? But then again…not all of the house’s inhabitants were as welcoming as Ainsley.

Something inside of her broke at his confession of his family life, being an only child with a single parent was something she was all too familiar with, she knew the heartache and the underlying current of what was it she had done to cause the other parent to leave. As she grew older though, she realized that she had done nothing wrong; her mother was just a selfish woman.

But he seemed to love his mother very much, the way he spoke of her and the way his eyes lit up were all obvious indicators, and the sour disposition of her own mother was washed away in the boy’s bright eyes.

“Your mother seems a lovely woman.” At first, she refused to ask him about his father- it was none of her business, and she knew that talking about it, to a stranger no less, was an uncomfortable experience for everyone involved.

But curiosity was in her nature it appeared, “Has it always been you and your mother?”

“She is,” he agreed, nodding as he swallowed a sip. “She puts up with me.” 

Speaking of his mother, he was always raised not to make a conversation about himself, it was rude. But Ainsley seemed to be as curious a person as he was, and her questions didn’t seem probing. 

It had been a long, long time since Connor thought about his father. When he was young, he asked, from time to time; it wasn’t until he saw classmates and playmates with a full set of parents that it occurred to him he was lacking anything. His mother was patient with him, but vague, and after a while, Connor grew out of seeking for a father figure. 

“Mhm. Always.” 

It wasn’t an uncomfortable subject, but for some reason, he found it difficult to speak about. Maybe it was the complete lack of information that left him struggling for words. 

“I don’t even really know the full story, y’know, of my parents, ‘nd me. Never even met my dad.”

No one had held her hand that way in so long, no one had fussed over her injuries with care and concern – it made her heart want to break and mend itself again.

She nodded dumbly, unsure how to speak through the shock of it all. She was always inept, always careless; always thinking things over at the last minute or after it was too late. The pain was still there, radiating through her hand up to her wrist and held there like a drought. She guessed she would have to do a little healing later on, when the sweet, neighbor boy that she had yet to learn the name of was long gone.

He apparently took her nod as a yes and turned the tap on and ran her burned hand under the cold water. He gently rubbed his thumbs along the top of her hand and kept the main pressure of the water off of her palm in case the pain became too much, and she had appreciated the thought more than she could bare.

“Thank you.” She muttered; her mouth promptly arid.

“Sorry, this happens more often than I’d like to think it does.” A chuckle, and her face and neck immediately marked red. Either from the humiliation of the moment or the entirety of admitting that her total life was one mistake after another.

Ainsley pulled her hand from his softly after the tap was turned off; she reached for a nearby dish towel and wrapped her poor hand in it. It would surely blister later, but that wasn’t something to worry about now. It would be fine later tonight and she could go on with her life like this wasn’t another burn she would add to her collection.

She seized the teapot, carefully this time, and poured the scorching water into both of their cups; grabbing the tea packets, she placed them into the mugs and turned back to the boy.

“It’s fine,” he assured her. As he turned the tap off, the moment finally caught up with him, leaving him rather embarrassed at his over eager jump to help. He wasn’t exactly in any position to be touching anyone in the house, even Ainsley, as gracious as she was. His move was certainly a little intrusive into personal space. Clearing his throat again, he let her hand go, letting her tend to the injury herself. For a minute, he felt much too big for the kitchen, towering over the woman next to him, so he nestled himself into the corner against the counter, leaning as much as he could.

“Sorry. Habit.” Connor nodded to her hand. “My mom’s a nurse.”

The tea she offered him was a warm welcome gift, and he gripped the cup with both hands, not even bothering to drink yet.

“Eighteen years,” he answered her. “My whole life.”

“It’s just me and her. My mom, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.” She held, pulling out a couple of mugs and placing them on the table before snatching the tea packets. “What kind of tea do you prefer? I only have green and black, we have a resident here who apparently uses tea as a replacement for blood.”

At the thought of her roommates, she pondered if any of them were conscious or even in the house at all – assuming most of them snoozed during the day anyhow, since she continuously hears the front door open and lock shut around midnight.

With a look of deep thought, she hummed her response, “Mmm, I’d say maybe a year this month? Yeah…I’m sure that’s right.” No she wasn’t.

The teakettle broke her absorption, however, when it began to steam and shriek, she hastily pulled it off the stove - but in her state of contemplation, she forgot to grab the rag and ended up scorching the palm of her hand.

“For blood?” he repeated, brows perked. He wracked his brain. Realizing after a beat she meant nothing unusual with the comment, he blushed, nodded, and looked down again. “Oh. Yeah. I’m kind of a tea junkie too. I’m probably mostly tea, as well. Uh - black’s fine.”

Clearing his throat quietly, he folded his hands against the table, watching Ainsley work and think; he wasn’t so good with keeping track of time, so maybe it had just been a year since she moved in. Connor’d lived in his home his entire life. The residents of House Vem seemed to replace themselves like clockwork, a revolving door of unusual characters, and the boy never much interacted with any of them. No meaningful connections, at least, before they moved on like the others. He wondered if Ainsley’s year this month marked her own deadline, if she’d be moving on, too.

With a clatter, there was a break in the quiet of the kitchen, and Connor jumped as Ainsley reacted. She clutched her hand, making it clear it was a burn, and without missing a beat, Connor was up and over to the stove.

“You alright?”

He was like a breath of fresh air; compared to the rest of the town, whom were all so distrusting of her and the house she lived in.

She nodded as he spoke, listening fixedly on his every word, noting the way his breathing hitched when he got too eager and had to take a breath to compose himself.

His excitement was contagious, and she soon found herself keen on explaining away everything she could muster, every inquiry he had – humoring every emotion that flitted across his boyish face.

Bobbing her head, she lifted her hands and twirled slowly, “It is a fantastic house. Ancient as it is.” Ainsley sighed, wishing everyone could be as understanding with the beauty and oddity that this house’s presence gave off.

She was caught off guard however, when the boy spoke next; his request so enthralling and wondrous that she had a hard time keeping the smile off of her face, though she couldn’t of fought it if she wanted to anyway.

“I don’t know much about it, sadly. But it is old, very old indeed.” She turned from him and beckoned him to follow her into the kitchen where she instantly drew out her teapot and filled it with water before placing it on the stove.

The kitchen was large and bathed in sunlight, warm and spacious, so much more homey than he expected it to be. He spun a bit to take it all in, arms tucked across his chest, and listened to Ainsley explain. He couldn’t blame her for not knowing the full complete history of the place - who knew that much about their home, an ancient estate or not? But as he was about to tell her that it was quite alright, that he didn’t mind just letting the mystery stand, she was nudging him to the kitchen table, offering hospitality in the form of a cup of tea. He was half surprised at the offer, but glancing down at her, smiling up at him with kind eyes, it seemed a natural gesture, not forced, so he was inclined to accept.

“That’s really nice of you. Are you sure?”

He sunk into the kitchen chair, eyes still fixed elsewhere. He felt a bit like an outsider, but Ainsley was so warm that it didn’t quite seem like he was intruding. 

She shook her head as she beckoned him inside, “Nonsense, its somewhere around here I’m sure of it.” She walked briskly from room to room, checking underneath the mess of paperwork that seemed to litter the house’s table space.

Maybe she should clean up and organize one of these days, when she wasn’t so busy.

She noticed him standing in the foyer, looking unsure of himself and his surroundings; though she did notice the way he took in the house, like he’d been imagining what it looked like on the inside for years. And maybe he had - she realized, maybe he always wondered what kind of people lived in this house, that the townsfolk always called weird or whacky or even some unkind words that Ainsley refused to repeat.

She stopped in her haste to pay the boy and smiled at him, “Is it everything you thought it would be?”                

“It is,” he answered honestly. “It’s just - I spend so much time outside, in the yard; it’s like I’m here, but not really here, and...”

He looked around again, briefly this time, and turned back, offering Ainsley a sheepish shrug.

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something about the house than the rest on the street. It wasn’t just its age, inexplicably a few decades older than the rest. Its inhabitants added to it, but that was something separate. Maybe it was all in his overactive mind, but, especially finally being inside, Connor could feel something like energy that was different for the property. 

“Could you tell me about it?” He had a habit of overstaying his welcome, especially somewhere he was intrigued by, but he couldn’t help it. The woman beside him was just hospitable enough that he might actually be able to learn something from. 

All the words that she could think of to describe him were in its simplicity - kind and endearing.

He was young too, could of just gotten out of high school. His face was flushed like a cherry, either from the heat, the work of plucking their lawn to perfection or the fact that he was just naturally a kid that got shy easily. All of which were possibilities in her eyes.

She kept the smile on her face, her eyes softening with their warmth that this boy seemed to bring to them. If only she could remember his name.

“It’s me.” She leaned against the doorframe, super casual.

“And it’s you.” She replied cheekily, hoping to elicit another awkward smile from the boy.

He was tall, that much she gathered from seeing him work out in the yard, but she didn’t realize how tall or how big he actually was. Maybe she was stupid in thinking that all teenage boys should be skinny and short because this kid blew her perception out of the water.

She had to crane her head up to look him in the eye, even though he kind of refused to look at her - it was amusing to say the least.

“Oh right, of course.” She spoke, groping around for the right words to explain why he wasn’t given the money earlier.

“Sorry, it’s been kind of weird around here. And I just assume someone else gives you the cheque but I guess no one has yet. It’s around here somewhere.” She was rambling as she looked around the tables near the door where the mail and junk was normally dropped.

“Who the hell deals out the cheque?” She wondered aloud before turning to the huge boy waiting outside.

Still, he couldn’t keep up. There was no doubt about that. Literally or metaphorically. In an instant, she’d moved on, retreating back into that odd house, still carrying on the conversation as she went. Connor waited. He had better manners than to enter just like that, not to mention the fact that he was a little lost on her intentions, anyway. He waited, looked around a bit, and peered back in.

It took a minute, but Ainsley beckoned him, and he followed, shutting the door behind him with uncertainty. 

“Oh. No, no, if it’s not here - Please don’t fuss. I can come back. I just thought- Usually it’s Mr. Bauer, or sometimes Miss Finch, but, you can go through the company, if that’s easier.” 

The inside of the House was as much of a wonder as the outside, though he didn’t see it nearly as much. It was ancient, but still homey, still livable; there was warmth he didn’t expect from the exterior. The place he grew up beside surprised him.

 There was a darkness that clouded her mind, made it hard to speak to the surrounding nature and its kind, made her spells come out wrong and even had a few brews blow up in her face. Literally.

 It was annoying to say the least, and with Dakota out, Ainsley was bored. Her familiars were the only ones answering her calls however, so when she lit up her bong and took a hit, a pecking at her window caused her to turn with a smile and open it, letting in one of her stocky owls.

 “Hello dear friend.” She spoke, petting the bird’s head and between it’s too large eyes.

The owl cooed and relaxed under her fingers, letting her do what she pleased and taking comfort in her touch.

A knocking at the front door interrupted that peace however, the owl was jerked out of its calm state and flapped its wings, but Ainsley shushed the bird and let it perch itself on her shoulder.

“Shh, it’s alright.” She murmured, taking caution of it’s sharp claws that were so close to her bare flesh. She grabbed a tiny morsel of meat from her ham sandwich and fed it to the bird.

“Should we answer it?” She questioned, already knowing she would anyway. 

The owl didn’t answer, just kept staring ahead, waiting for her to start walking downstairs anyway.

Upon entering the foyer of the house, she noticed how quiet and empty it was, which wasn’t unusual but she figured someone else should be home to keep tabs on the upkeep, but she shrugged it out of her mind, she didn’t mind taking on the responsibilities, she was used to it.

It was the boy, the one who kept their yard looking fresh all year round, oh she was so bad with names and she didn’t want to be rude.

Opening the door, she gave her biggest smile, “Hey.” 

Today was a good day. Connor had lucked out. Exhaling, he received the greeting happily, smiling on reflex.

“Oh! Hi,” he lobbed back. “It’s you.”

He wasted no time embarrassing himself, it was one of his talents. He knew Ainsley from afar, like most of the house, through whom he’d learn was her good friend. She was nice, he knew that much, and that was enough for him. Looking back down to the slab that was the front porch, he let a few beats go by before trying to continue.