The Woman Next Door Read Free Page B

want me to go downstairs and change it? Is that what YOU want?"
    "No. Forget it." He went to his bed. "It can wait." He lay down. "Turn the light off, would you?"
    She turned the light off. "I will change it if you want, Brett."
    "I said forget it; it's all right."
    "I mean, if you're cold. . . ."
    "Oh, luck." A sigh. "If you want to change it, change it. I don't care."
    "Jesus, aren't you in a good mood!"
    Brett said nothing.
    "Did you know we got some new neighbors today?" Silence.
    "Right next door, number twenty-six."
    "That shit hole?" Brett grunted.
    "Oh, it's not so bad now. The husband's been working on it since June."
    "I hadn't noticed."
    "Uh-huh," Marilyn said. "Anyway, this young couple moved in today. And the wife—very pretty little thing; you know the type: blonde hair, blue eyes, looks like a Breck girl—well, it turns out she's a cripple."
    "A cripple?"
    "Uh-huh, wheelchair and everything. Really a pity. I mean, can you imagine—?"
    "No, I can't," Brett cut in, "and I'd prefer not to."
    "I was just going to say, can you imagine what a burden she must be on her husband?"
    She waited. Brett said nothing.
    "I knew something was up when I saw him building that ramp," she said.
    "Ramp?"
    "Next to their front porch. Haven't you seen it? My God, Brett, don't you care what goes on in this neighborhood?"
    Not really."
    "I thought so. Anyway, I saw him building that ramp and I said to myself, 'Now, what's he building that for? That looks like hell.' And then it occurred to me that the handicapped use ramps like that, and I just knew that somebody in his family was handicapped, and who does it turn out to be but his wife. Can you imagine it, Brett? I'm sure you've seen this man—"
    "No, I haven't."
    "Well, he was working on that house every chance he got. God knows it needed it. I don't see how you could have missed him. Great big guy, must be six-five if he's an inch, and not bad-looking, either, in a Neanderthal sort of way. And when I saw that poor wife of his, I said to myself, 'What a pity that he got hooked up with her,' because it really did look like she'd been in the wheelchair a long, long time, if you know what I mean."
    "No." Then, resignedly: "Tell me."
    "Well, it looked like it was part of her, like she was comfortable with it, and he looked like he'd been pushing it a long time, too."
    "That's crap, Marilyn."
    "Brett, I know these things, these subtle little things. If you'd take more of an interest in people, you'd know what I'm talking about."
    "I suppose." He was tired.
    "And I've seen her before, too."
    "Seen who?" He knew who; it was his way of telling her to be quiet.
    "That crippled woman. I don't remember where, exactly, but I have seen her before."
    "Of course you have, Marilyn. You said her husband's been working on that house for six months."
    "No, I mean before that. And today's the first time she's come to that house, anyway. I know that."
    "I'm sure you do. Other women watch soap operas; you stand at the windows."
    "That's unkind, Brett."
    He sighed. "I know it. I'm sorry. Now, please, can we go to sleep?"
    "And another thing: He wouldn't have built that ramp unless that wheelchair was a long-term thing. So, you see, she isn't in it temporarily because of some accident; she's in it for good. Poor thing."
    "Marilyn, I'm tired. Can we please go to sleep?"
    She rolled over suddenly and faced the window. The drapes were parted slightly; she could see the Bonnets' house. "They're still up," she said.
    Silence.
    "They've got a light on, Brett. They're still up. Real night owls, aren't they?"
    Silence. She lifted her head a little, listened. Brett began to snore—lightly, rhythmically.
    She lowered her bead. "They're still up," she repeated, in a whisper. "Why are they still up?"
    Brett was right, she thought: It was cold. She pulled the blanket over her shoulders, brought her knees up.
    Real night owls.
    She considered turning over and checking the alarm clock on the table