#2 The Intruder

Logan Avenue is known as the "average" street in our city. Some enterprising young reporter bestowed that title on us one day when news was slow and he decided to sit down and pinpoint the street which was most middle class. Personally, I think he elevated our status a bit.

True, we all live in similar box-like houses with postage stamp lawns. On average, every house is occupied by two adults and 1 1/2 children but there is a stigma attached to being dubbed "average". It brings to mind the term "boring".

You might think average people live quite similar lives...the men drink beer and watch sports when they're not mowing the lawn and the women cook, clean, and do yoga. On Logan Avenue we do all of those things but there is more to us than that.

Sue Graham is a widow who lives a half block down the street and she advertises on a regular basis with the local newspaper in their "Companions Wanted" section. I know this because one of my friends works at the newspaper. She has an active social life and seems to have many visitors.

Sue also is very active in the Blood of the Lamb Catholic church. The priest has been known to make the sign of the cross three times before entering the confessional to hear her confess her sins.

Some of our beer drinking, sports watching men are an interesting lot. Joe Rizzo is a construction worker by trade and an artist by nature. When one approaches his "average" house they are first entranced by the brick and wrought iron wall that surrounds the front yard. The inevitable arches frame his front porch, each arch showcasing luscious hanging plants of red, fuschia, gold, and blue flowing flowers. Joe created all of this.

He can be seen most evenings after dinner pruning the bountiful grape vines which line the walkway to his back yard. His wife can be seen also...and heard ranting at him in Italian as he mutely goes about his business.

Joe finishes his chores and quietly settles onto the lawn chair on the front porch, Molson in hand, apparently unperturbed by the slamming door as his angry wife disappears from sight.

Two doors to the left of Joe lives an elderly couple, Ruth and Mitch. They've lived on the street longer than any of us but we don't see much of them. They like to spend most of their time indoors. We sometimes hear music coming from their house on summer evenings when the windows are open and once I saw them dance by the window, smooth and graceful in their step.

Maybe you're wondering about me...or maybe not. I plan to tell you anyway.

I'm your average dowdy housewife, mid forties, a fair bit on the chubby side, short blonde hair (chemically enhanced), don't drink or smoke, and can barely tolerate the husband I chose above all others when I was too young to know better.

We have no children, thank god, or they might have turned out like him...vapid smile, manicured nails, and full of love only for his dog. Lord, does he love that dog! Pierre is a large, well-groomed, psychotic poodle who entertains the neighbors way too often by publicly humping anyone who is foolish enough to try to pat him. George, my husband, always drags the dog away but I've seen him smiling as he does. I think he gets a kick out of the dog's behaviour.

I used to be jealous watching him groom the mutt all the while murmuring sweet nothings in it's ear. They made such a loving couple that I felt left out. Lately I've considered poisoning my rival but then I thought, "what if the old boy turns his affections on me?" and realized things were best left as they were.

One bright summer day I was sitting in my back yard watching the grass grow and a man entered through the open gate. My first thoughts were that he appeared to be unsure he was in the right place so I asked if I could help him.

He was tall and muscular, and handsome if you like dark, swarthy men. I did. I spent so much time appraising and appreciating him that I didn't notice he didn't answer but was slowly approaching me with a sexy, awaredness about him.

About this time it dawned on me that I really should be frightened but I just couldn't muster the appropriate emotion. My lack of distress had a remarkable effect on the intruder. He stopped suddenly and glanced quickly around as though expecting to find someone or something protecting me.

"Are you alone here?", he asked almost nervously.

The more I looked at him the more I liked what I saw but I wasn't about to allow myself to be beaten or raped by anyone, not even this sweety.

"My guard dog is around somewhere but he won't bother anyone who doesn't threaten me. Why don't you join me for a drink...that is, if you're in no hurry to leave?".

Being sized up by those dangerous black eyes was an experience in itself. Unconsciously I tucked in my tummy, lifted up my chest, and turned slightly to my good side...the right. A slow smile tickled the corners of his lovely full lips and he visibly relaxed.

He walked cockily over to the chair beside me and sprawled himself upon it. "A cold beer would be just fine, lady", he answered softly.

My young Adonis never told me his name and I never gave him mine. He simply joined in the spirit of the game. We sat for an hour or so, him sipping his beer and me sipping a Coke. We talked about politics, movies, books, morals, and vegetarian diets. All the time he talked I savored his beauty. To be honest, I don't know why he so obviously enjoyed my company unless it was a vanity trip for him. Here he was, at least twenty years my junior, but speaking to me as an equal and showering me with the most flattering looks.

At no time did we refer to his original reason for showing up. I could not have cared less at this point and I like to think he'd forgotten.

In time, my Adonis set down his empty beer can, stretched luxuriously, then leaned forward and stared at me intently.

"We're friends now, you know that?, he asked quizzically. "You know I never meant to harm you but I've changed my mind about what I came here for. Will you let me come back again?".

I considered the alternative...nothing but gray nights with the old boy and his furry friend, T.V., soaps, Coke and donuts. What the hell!

"Sure".

We carried on this innocent relationship for over four years. It was a platonic relationship in every sense of the word though I often wished it would progress to something more. But the game had to be played by the rules and our unspoken rules from the start were for conversation laced with sparce undertones of hidden desire. And it worked as we spent a few afternoons each week discussing topics that made us feel human and listened to each other with unquestionable respect. Of course, the rules allowing our eyes to convey passion held in restraint made it more interesting.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end and our end came when my Adonis confided to me one afternoon that he was going to be married.

Jealousy overwhelmed me but I valiantly kept my self control long enough to ask, "And who is the lucky woman?".

"You just might know her. She's a neighbor of yours that I've been seeing lately. I met her through one of those "Companions Wanted" ads in the newspaper. We hit it off right away...maybe because she's a lot like you. It's too bad you and I couldn't have been more to each other but she wants more from me than just conversation". He shook his head with regret for what might have been. At least that was what I was telling myself.

We said our goodbyes. They were final ones because his new wife would provide him with all the conversation he was going to need.

Now I sit in my average house, on an average street, and wait for my next unexpected intruder. In the meantime I will make quite specific plans on how to change the rules.