DOANDN (Diary of a Next Door Neighbor)‏

By Tiffanie Monroe

Matt tucked his hands in his pockets and watched the taillights of Abbi’s Miata winking as she turned onto the highway.  He started to go back inside and noticed a book lying on her driveway.  He decided to go pick it up before the storm hit.  It might be important, and right now he needed all of the brownie points he could get.  He still had no idea what had happened, and though it piqued his pride to admit, he was as hurt as he was confused.  He felt the first raindrops starting to fall and sprinted up her drive.  He grabbed the small, brown book and tucked in into his pocket, surprised at the feel of buttery soft leather.  He didn’t have time to think about it as the bottom fell out of the sky. 

Back at his house, Matt threw his jacket over a chair and went to change.  He came back toweling his hair and face, then grabbed his jacket and replaced it with the wet towel.  He fished the book out and dropped the jacket on the carpet.  There was no title on the outside so he flipped it open and immediately realized what it was.  Rather than print, it was filled with Abbi’s neat handwriting.  Uh-oh.  He dropped it on the counter as if it had burned him.  He was in no man’s land, already in the doghouse simply for having possession of it.  She would never believe that he hadn’t opened it.  Which he had.  But just to see what it was.  That’s all. 

He walked to the fridge, grabbed a beer.  He walked back to the counter, fingered the smooth cover.  He turned to the cabinet and grabbed some pretzels, munching out of the bag.  He turned back to the counter and stared, then slid onto the barstool.  He pushed the diary away from him, into the middle of the countertop, but kept his fingers on it, twirling it around and around.  She would automatically assume that he’d read it.  He would never convince her otherwise.  She was already mad at him anyway, and wouldn’t tell him why.  He hadn’t done anything wrong.  That he knew of.  He rubbed his finger over the cover in little circles.  If you were going to be in trouble, you might as well earn it, right? 

Dear Diary,

The new neighbor moved in today, and man is he an improvement on old Mr. Caruthers!  I was watching as he unloaded his truck.  [Mostly it was boxes but you could still see the way his muscles rippled each time he lifted one out of the back.]  I couldn’t stop staring.  I wonder where he works out.  Maybe I should start working out.  I could go over there and ask him what gym he uses.  Wait.  Me?  Work out?  That’s laughable.  I hate even walking to the sidewalk to check the mail and it’s just a few feet away.  Too bad I don’t have an excuse to go over there.  Maybe I can ask to borrow a cup of flour.  Ok that’s lame, too.  He’s still moving in.  He hasn’t even had time to unpack or anything.  Maybe I can bake some cookies or a cake, and take them over to welcome him to the neighborhood...

Dear Diary,

It’s been two months, and the one time I got the courage up to actually bake the cookies, I ate the whole damn dozen.  Why can’t I just approach him??  Everyone else on the block has at least gone over there to welcome him.  Me?  I can’t seem to get over my shyness long enough to stammer out a hello.  I thought I’d gotten past this in high school.  I have a great job.  I’m reasonably attractive.  I have good self-esteem.  Or I thought I did.  Look, there goes Mary.  This is her third trip this week, every time toting sample books and baked goods.  I know she’s an interior designer and she’s probably drumming up business, but she’s married, with a new baby.  You would think she’d wait until her husband comes home to spend hours with the young, single neighbor, or at least take the baby.  Instead I see the sitter pull up, then she heads right over.  It seems fishy.

OMG.  Listen to me.  I’m jealous, of a guy I’ve never even spoken to and my best friend!  I’m sniping and jumping to nasty conclusions.  I should be ashamed.

Dear Diary,

What’s a girl to do?  I live on a quiet street with mostly much older neighbors, I rarely socialize and I never date.  And I’m happy.  Now here comes this gorgeous specimen of manly goodness, all tempting and – and – and yummy!   The other day I was sitting on my porch swing and saw him jogging.  I waved and he stopped, to catch his breath and chat for a minute.  I found out that his name is Matthew but his friends call him Matt.  He just turned thirty-one, he’s an architect and he’s an ex-marine.  Ooh la la!

He smells so manly and… sweaty.  Since when is that a good smell?  I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  I’ve never acted like this or felt this way in my life.  I’m driving myself crazy!  Anyway I stuttered out that my name was Abbigail and that most people just called me Abbi, or Gail and I just kept stuttering.  No one has ever made me this nervous.  He probably thinks I’m an idiot.  Hell, I do.  Dang, there’s a knock on my door…

Oh my God!  It was Matt!  He wanted to borrow some sugar, and then he asked if I had any plans tonight.  Which of course I don’t.  He asked if I wanted to have dinner.  It’s 5:30 now and he’s picking me up at 7:00.  I need to figure out what to wear!

Dear Diary,

What an awesome night!  I wore my little black dress; can’t go wrong there.  He wore black slacks and a dark blue button down shirt, which brought out his baby blue eyes.  He smelled like Gravity cologne.  My favorite.  He took me to this little Italian place, Via Roma.  The lighting was dim and the atmosphere was very romantic.  I had the most delicious baked tortellini and a sinful spinach salad.  Matt ordered lasagna and a great red wine for both of us.  I worried that I would be babbling like an idiot again, but he’s so easy to talk to.  It seemed like we never ran out of things to say to each other.  We had my favorite dessert, turtle cheesecake and coffee.  Afterward we headed home.  He parked in his driveway, hurried around to get my door and walked me to my house. 

I wanted to tell him how amazing of a time I’d had, but the words just wouldn’t come.  I looked down, embarrassed at my lack of sophistication, and started to mumble a goodnight.  Then he put his finger under my chin and tipped my face up to look at him.  He is honestly so pretty it is almost hard to look at.  He stared at me as though I were a priceless piece of art, something beautiful and rare, then he leaned down and gave me a tantalizing, toe-curling kiss.  Then he gave me a wide, just-couldn’t- resist grin, whispered ‘goodnight’ and walked home.  When he got to his door he gave me a little wave and disappeared inside.  What an amazing, incredible night!  I cannot wait to fall asleep and dream about that kiss!

Dear Diary,

Finally I’m on lunch break!  I couldn’t wait to put down the good news.  He sent me flowers at work.  They are so pretty and bright.  I wonder how he knew that I love sunflowers?  The card was so sweet, too!  All it said was ‘Just because’.  I can’t stop smiling and the other girls are completely jealous.  K, gotta get back to work. 

Dear Diary,

He asked me out again!  This Friday, dinner and a movie.  I can’t wait.  He’s even letting me pick.  I bet he thinks he’ll have to suffer through a chick flick.  My momma didn’t raise a fool; I’ll pick the scariest movie out, so he has an excuse to put his arm around me J.  I can’t wait!

Dear Diary,

We’ve been going out every weekend for the last two months.  I guess that means we’re ‘dating’.  I think I’m falling in love, and I don’t even know how I’m supposed to know!  I’ve never been in love before.  I’ve rarely even dated.  Should I tell him?  Is it too soon?  How does he feel?  There are headlights pulling up next door.  I wonder who it is this late?  That’s Mary’s car.  Why is she there at ten at night?  Here I go again getting jealous over, hopefully, nothing.  Wait.  Isn’t he done with his decorating?  Maybe I should go over there, and, what?  Show what an envious twit I am?  Why would she need to be over there so late?  Now the door is opening.  I sound like a stalker.  Wait.  Are they?  No they can’t be.  They can’t be kissing.

Dear Diary,

I hardly slept all night.  I feel horrible, and I look worse.  I finally got up and started getting ready for work, and then I thought, why?  Why go to work when I can go to Granny’s and be pampered, just wallow and try to get over him?  I’m going to call Matt and break our date.  I don’t know what to say to him, but I know I can’t face him yet.  I’ll just start blubbering and make a bigger idiot out of myself than I already have.  I can’t believe I was so naive.   I talked to her, asked her advice.  She even seemed happy for me.  How could I not see this?  When I think of them together, of the way I thought we had something real…  I’ve never hurt like this in my life.

Matt read these last words; saw the tiny blurred spots where her tears had fallen onto the pages.  He hated that she had ever felt that way, and even being mildly responsible was like a punch to the gut.  Still, this was good news.  He hadn’t actually done anything wrong, and she loved him.  He’d been dying to tell her how he felt, but it just wasn’t manly – or normal – to fall head over heels for a girl you’d only been dating for a few months.  That’s how he’d finally decided that she was the one, this was it, bye-bye bachelorhood.  He’d invited Mary, and her husband, Chuck, over for dinner to ask Mary’s advice on buying a ring.  If Abbi had to wear it for the rest of her life, he wanted it to be something she’d have picked for herself, but at the same time he wanted to surprise her. 

That evening Chuck had shown up alone, saying that Mary’s business trip had taken longer than expected and she would be getting in a little late.  They’d had a few beers and talked about women, work and living in the burbs.  When Mary had called Chuck to ask if he was still here, he’d gone to the door to meet her.  He guess they’d said hello a little passionately, and that must have been what Abbi saw.  He certainly hadn’t been kissing Mary that night or ever.  It would be easy enough, if slightly embarrassing, to straighten the whole mess out, if he could find Abs and get her to listen.  He’d fallen in love for the first time in his life and he didn’t intend to lose her.

  About the Author: Tiffanie Monroe

Tiffanie Monroe is a romance writer currently working on her first novel.  Her short story Do I? was published in the June 2009 issue of Long Story Short.  Tiffanie is a member of the TNBC Writer’s Alliance of Texarkana, TX.  She currently resides in Arkansas with her husband, Chris, a daughter, two dogs and a cockatiel.