The first time I met Arthur was when he moved into the green colonial house next door. Something about him made my skin crawl. Maybe it was the practiced smile that never reached his eyes or how his politeness felt rehearsed rather than genuine.
A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
After his wife’s funeral, Arthur became even more withdrawn.
The only other person living in that house was his mother, Maria, a fragile blind woman with cloudy eyes that seemed kind.
I’d wave to her from across the yard where she makes her beloved clay pots, and she’d turn toward the sound of my voice with a genuine smile that made me wonder how such warmth could be related to Arthur’s coldness.
A smiling older lady making clay pots | Source: Midjourney
It was a crisp Tuesday morning when he approached me as I was retrieving my mail. His steps were hurried, and his expression was tense.
“Samantha, I need a favor,” he said, fingers drumming against our shared fence. I was puzzled.
“My mother’s being discharged from County General this afternoon, but I have an emergency meeting I can’t reschedule. Could you possibly pick her up? She knows your voice and feels comfortable with you.”
An emergency sign on a hospital building | Source: Pexels
I hesitated, feeling a familiar knot in my stomach whenever I dealt with Arthur. But then I thought of Maria’s gentle demeanor and kind smile.
“What time does she need to be picked up?”
Arthur’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Around three. I should be home by six at the latest. You just need to get her settled. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
“It’s fine… no worries.”
“Thank you,” he said, heading back to his house. “She’ll be waiting at the main entrance.”
A man heading toward his house | Source: Midjourney
The hospital’s antiseptic smell hit me as soon as I walked through the sliding glass doors. I spotted Maria immediately, sitting in a chair with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her silver hair was pulled back in a loose bun, and her face looked paler than I remembered.
“Maria?” I called, approaching her. “It’s Samantha from next door.”
Her face brightened immediately. “Samantha! Arthur told me you’d be coming. Thank you so much for doing this, dear.” Her hands reached out, searching for mine.
I took her weathered hands in mine. “It’s no trouble at all. How are you feeling?”
“Much better now that I’m leaving this place,” she said with a small laugh. “Four days is plenty for these old bones.”
A sad older woman | Source: Midjourney
The nurse handed me Maria’s discharge papers and a small bag of medications, explaining her care instructions. I nodded along, helping Maria into my car once everything was settled.
“Arthur’s not home?” Maria asked as we pulled into their driveway an hour later.
“He mentioned he had a meeting. Said he’d be back by six.”
Maria sighed. “That boy is always running. He never sits still long enough to catch his breath.”
I helped her inside, surprised by how dark and musty the house felt. When was the last time these windows had been opened? The kitchen sink was stacked with dishes, and a layer of dust covered most surfaces.
Sunlight seeping into a room | Source: Midjourney
“Would you like me to make you something to eat?” I offered, noticing how bare the refrigerator looked when I opened it.
“Oh, dear, you don’t have to do that,” Maria protested, but her stomach growled loudly enough for both of us to hear.
“I insist,” I said, finding enough ingredients to make a simple pasta dish. As I cooked, Maria told me stories about her late husband and their travel across the country.
“Arthur was always so serious, even as a child,” she said as I set a plate in front of her. “His father and I worried about him… he never made friends easily.”
