Roger Grayson: A Neighborhood Party

"Oh no, Carol, don't get me wrong," Jean said, sensing her thoughts. "I'm not the street gossip, but the conversation did seem to get around to your next door neighbors and I thought I had better warn you. He'll be around to see you too, I can guarantee that."

Carol though she detected a note of bitterness in her new neighbor's voice and wondered if perhaps this wasn't one of the instances where "Stud Burns" had succeeded. Something was certainly unusual about the way she talked about him and the vindictive things she was saying. She was a pretty woman and couldn't be over thirty-five or six. She had taken good care of herself and Carol couldn't understand how he would pass her up if he were as lecherous as Jean was saying he was. She thought she would probe diplomatically just for the fun of it and see what she could find out about her personally.

"H-Has he ever tried anything with you?" Carol asked, lowering her eyes to the cup she was fingering thoughtfully in her hands.

Jean smiled over at her.

"I knew that question would come in one form or another if we started on the subject." she said, pausing for a moment. "Of course, he has. Even if he hadn't, I don't think I would admit it for vanity's sake. A woman does have her pride, you know."

When Carol heard the sincerity in the woman's voice she was immediately sorry she had even asked the question. It wasn't her business to pry into someone else's affairs, particularly someone she hardly knew.

"Jean, I'm sorry. I should know better. I guess I'm just becoming cynical in my old age."

"My dear," smiled her neighbor, looking directly into her eyes, "I don't mean to sound condescending. But at your age I was perhaps the most naive thing around. It'll take you awhile to really understand what being cynical really is."

Carol detected a note of sadness in Jean's voice and decided she had carried this topic of conversation just a little too far. Her visitor had obviously had a bad traumatic experience of some kind with Harry Burns and she wasn't certain whether she really wanted to talk all-out it or not. She decided she had better change the subject for safety's sake before she got herself involved in some morbid story that might take up the rest of the day. She had discovered early in life that the first people who always came to see you and made friends with you were those who had something to say -usually about themselves. But in spite of this initial judgment of Jean, Carol liked her. There was something innately sad about her that she couldn't exactly put her finger on and it was quite apparent that she wasn't exactly the happiest person in the world.

"Please have some more coffee, won't you?" Carol offered, hoping she would take a hint and talk about something else. But Jean seemed determined to keep on the subject of personalities and continued talking.

"I've seen your husband out the window. He seems nice." she said, reaching over and pouring her own cup full again.

"Yes, he is." Carol's eyes sparkled as the subject changed to Bob. She was proud of him and didn't mind letting people know about it. "I think so, anyway."

"You're lucky." Jean replied drily. "My husband is a brute of the first order."

Carol was shocked for a moment at the sudden unsolicited disclosure. She had just been ready to tell Jean about Bob's new job of which he was so proud but Jean's revelation had cut her short.

"Why, you don't mean that, Jean." she stuttered, not knowing quite how to react to her. She decided to lie a little, "You look so happy and settled. I don't see how you can say that."

It was then for the first time that Carol noticed the slight, almost indiscernible slur of the woman's words. She had been drinking! A sudden feeling of compassion rippled through her. The poor dear! She must be having a hard time if she had to resort to alcohol at this time of the morning. She looked and spoke so logically when she had come in the house twenty minutes ago. While Carol pondered this for a moment, Jean answered the question for her. She reached in her purse by the chair and pulled out a small flask.

"Would you like a small bit of brandy to lace your coffee, Carol? I find it helps on these cold days." Jean smiled almost apologetically, as though she realized the pity running through Carol's mind. "It's good with coffee."

"W-Why no thank you. I-I don't drink much," she answered, watching as her guest poured almost half the cup full of the dark liquid. "B-But please go ahead."

"I think it shocks you that I'm drinking so early in the morning doesn't it?" Jean looked at her, waiting for her confirming answer.

"W-Well no, no it doesn't. If a person wants to drink in the morning then it's their business and no one else's." Carol defended. She had no intention of getting into an argument with one of her neighbors in the first few days they were here. Particularly over something she knew absolutely nothing about.

"Well, I don't very often do this," Jean's words became slightly more slurred as she took a good sip from the cup. "But I saw that Stud Burns watching you out of his window yesterday when you were working in the yard and thought I had better warn you. He's going to be after your pants, mark my words."

"Jean!" Carol answered, a shocked look crossing over her face. "I don't think you should talk like that. What he does is his own business but I'm certainly no child, I can take care of myself."

"You may think so, dear. But mark my words," she repeated again, "he'll think of something. I know that lecherous son-of-a-bitch. He'll screw you silly someday when you have your guard down and then have it all over the town with his big mouth bragging about what a good shag you are. I know him."

"I-Is that what happened with you, Jean?" Carol asked softly. It was obvious to her that Jean had been hurt deeply and it had something to do with Harry Burns. Otherwise, she wouldn't be talking against him this way to a perfect stranger. She could feel nothing but compassion for Jean now and wanted to help her in any way she could even if it were nothing more than sympathize with her.

"Is it that obvious?" Her guest said grimly.

"No, no it isn't," Carol consoled. But you kept talking about him so much I couldn't help but wonder."

"Well, that is what happened to me," Jean said bitterly, taking another long sip from the cup. "May I have some more coffee, please?"

"Do you really think you should? I mean it's all right, but don't you think you should wait a little while?" Carol suggested hopefully.

"No, dear, don't you worry about me. I can take care of myself. I need it if I'm going to make it through this fool day. Anyway," she suddenly brightened up, "let's get off such an unhappy subject and talk about something else, shall we? Tell me something about yourself. We're going to be neighbors for a long time, I hope, so let's get the silly little formalities out of the way."

Carol was more than glad for the chance to get on to something else as it was too apparent that her neighbor was on an extremely touchy subject and she didn't want any emotional outbursts in her home from her very first visitor. She had enough things to worry about as it was in getting themselves established here without becoming the shoulder that all could cry on whenever they happened to have a problem of some kind. From that point on it was all small talk on the subjects that women usually discuss under such circumstances. She told Jean about Bob's new job and how happy they were that he had been given the chance to prove himself so quickly with the bank. Not that she hadn't expected it with the educational background Bob had built up, but she had to admit the good things of life were coming to them a little faster than she had really expected. In fact, she was afraid at one point that she was letting her exuberance about her husband run away with her and just knew she was boring Jean to death, but she seemed to he interested and even asked more questions when Carol would stop on one particular subject. Finally, she even let her talk her into one drink with her coffee and had to admit the cognac did taste good going down. It seemed to make Jean feel a little more at home also and she began to let her hair down in a more pleasant sense and before Carol knew it she had looked at her watch and it was almost time for Bob to be coming home for lunch.