By Nancy Lines

Every weekday morning for 30 years, Ann drove to work on Oak Street, passing through a neighborhood of middle-class homes shaded by canopies of maple and ash trees. This wasn’t the fastest route, but there was less traffic, and really, she liked to drive the treelined Oak street with her windows down. With the cool breeze filling the car, Ann could imagine that she was living in the country, instead of this crowded city.

One morning, as she was on her way to work, she noticed a moving van parked in the driveway of a house on Oak, about half a mile from her own house. The van was parked behind a car, and she saw a young couple (maybe in their early 20’s?) carrying boxes one-by-one into the house. The house was a modest ranch with little curb appeal. The front door was propped open for the movers, who were unloading a mattress from the van.  With a young couple, she thought, the bed is always the first piece of furniture they want in place.  She remembered those days fondly – if vaguely. 

She hadn’t noticed a For Sale sign, so the property must have come on the market and been sold quickly. Maybe this couple was related to the past owners.  Maybe the house had belonged to parents or grandparents, who went to a nursing home.  From the outside, the house was in need of some updating, new paint and shutters. The backyard was open except for a tall wooden fence on the north side of the yard.  The fence was unpainted and seemed to serve no purpose, except, perhaps, to provide privacy from the back neighbors. But a young couple would have plenty of energy to make the house attractive and modern.   

The young man was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and had a red bandana tied around his forehead. The woman tied her hair back in a pony tail. She wore shorts and a loose shirt.  even at this time of the morning, they were sweating from the muggy August heat.   

It was hard to believe it had been almost three decades since she and David had moved into their house a few blocks away.  They had been young. Everything was new and exciting – picking colors for the walls, choosing fabrics for curtains and drapes.  Even though much of their furniture was hand-me-downs from their families, they placed it where they wanted, painted it what color they wanted, and repurposed tables as desks and cabinets as t.v. stands.   They found a small chest in a junk shop and used it as a vanity in the bathroom.  Ann stapled upholstery fabric, a blue and green plaid she had bought on sale at J.C. Penney’s, on the seats of the chairs that they inherited with their dining room table to cover up years of stain and wear. 

When they moved into their house, they already had two infants, so in addition to moving furniture, dishes, and clothes, they took turns tending to Penny, who was determined to toddle out the front door just as they were wedging mattresses and a sofa through the too-small doorframe.  Jeff, their son, was content, as usual, with whatever picture book they placed in his chubby hands.  At least, the new couple seemed to have fewer distractions than she and David had.    

On her way home from work the day the young couple moved into their house, she slowed down as much as she could without holding up traffic.  The moving van was gone, and two Adirondack chairs sat on the front porch.  David had always said the chairs were too expensive, so she had settled for a couple wrought iron chairs flanking a small table for their porch.  After the divorce, Ann finally got her Adirondack chairs, not the plastic ones but real wood, although now she usually found herself sitting alone on her porch, sipping a glass of lemonade or wine.   

Occasionally, neighbors joined her, but neighbors  came and went.  Now there were a few widows, older than her, who seldom left their homes.  The newer neighbors kept to themselves, so she never got to know them well.  Sometimes, Paula, who still lived next door, came over after supper, and they sat together on the front porch until evening faded, and the street lights came on.   

A couple weeks later on a Saturday afternoon, when she was on her way to the grocery store, there were several young people gathered on the back patio of the house on Oak.  There were big tubs of ice filled with bottled drinks, and several young men were gathered around a grill, smoke filling the air.  The women were piling a long cedar table with food in bowls and on plates. She could hear music even with her car windows up, and her air conditioner running full blast.  Someone had taped metallic letters on the fence, saying “Welcome Home, Katie and John.”   

Their apparent joy in sharing their new home with their friends and family made her smile.  That first home with someone you love, the feeling of a future of limitless possibilities and promise, seemed to her so far away and, so out of her reach.  Her days now, she thought, were spent in an endless state of waiting.  She waited to see what Penny and Jeff would do with their lives, if they would have children, if they would move to another city.  (Penny had always wanted to live abroad, and she was exploring ways to serve as a nurse in France or Italy.) Now she was a spectator, an observer, of life, even of lives of someone she had never met, like Katie and John. 

The last move she was part of was a moving out, not a moving in.  She and David had agreed she would keep the house after their divorce.  He had wanted to move into an apartment closer to his architectural office even before they began having problems in their marriage.  She had wanted to live in a house, not necessarily the one on Oak, but one where the dog would have a yard to run in, and she would have a space for gardens.  When she really thought about it, this disagreement so early on and so ongoing was symptomatic of all the differences in their personalities.   

When the moving van came for David’s things, she had sat on the deck in the backyard and tried to keep the now-deceased Sammy from barking at the movers.  He knew something was happening that would affect him, and he wasn’t happy about these strangers in his house.  Ann wasn’t happy about it either, but then the marriage had run its course years ago, and she finally faced the fact nothing was going to get any better.  With their children grown and living in their own apartments, there was no need to keep up the pretense that the marriage was still healthy and happy. 

The bedroom furniture had belonged to David’s parents.  It was dark, heavy mahogany, not her style, but when it went onto the van, it seemed to be the final act of their marriage.  She had arranged for new bedroom furniture to be delivered the next day so she would not feel so bereft (and so she would not have to keep sleeping in the guest room).  She had chosen a white bed and dresser, as different from David’s massive furniture as she could get.  She liked rooms to feel light and airy, while David was always conscious of privacy and wanted all windows facing the street to be covered by drapes or blinds.  Now that she was alone, she probably should have been more concerned about privacy, too, but she figured at her age, who would be interested in peeping in her windows? 

She watched the house on Oak as she drove by each day and saw that the young couple had trimmed the overgrown hedges and planted rose buses and perennials along the back fence and on the sides of the house.  They worked together, unhurriedly, as if they had all the time in the world to make their house the best it could be.  They painted the shutters and the front door a bright red, which looked good against the cream-colored stucco.  Sometimes, when she thought she could do so without arousing suspicion, she parked a couple houses west on a side street, so she could watch them work.   

She tried to remember the first years after she and David had moved into their house.  She could never say David was lazy, but he was satisfied with the house as they bought it, while she was full of ideas to improve the exterior or to make the lawns and gardens more colorful.  David thought in terms of “capital improvements,” while she wanted to imprint the house with their own personalities.  When she gardened and painted trim, David watched sports or took naps, and, for the most part, she did not mind.  He claimed his weekends were his chance to recuperate and recharge from his job.  She supposed being an architect meant he had enough of thinking about design.  Their differences, at first, seemed to be a strength, a balance that kept each of them from going too far astray. 

On her drive home one day several months after Katie and John — whom she now felt she knew — had moved into their new home, she saw in her rear-view mirror pink and blue balloons tied to the fence.  She turned into a side street so she could drive by the house again and look more carefully at what was on the fence.  Two bunches of balloons, one pink and the other blue, were tied, about three feet apart, to fence posts.  Below and between the balloons, there was a big, silver question marks attached.  How cute, she thought.  They would probably be having a “reveal” party soon, since that seemed to be the current craze.  She couldn’t wait to catch a glimpse of Katie, her belly swollen beneath her coat or jacket, as she and John left for work.  She wondered if Katie was going to be a stay-at-home mom, or if she would have to work. 

She had never had the luxury of staying at home with her children past the mandatory time-off her job allowed.  When their first child, Jeff, was born, David had not yet been made a partner, and money was tight.  They still had student loans to repay, the rent on the apartment, and two car payments.   

After they moved into the house on Oak, they were lucky enough to have child care next door.  Their neighbor, Paula — against subdivision rules — ran a child-care center, where she cared for Jeff and Penny and another neighbor’s child plus her own two infants.  Ann and David checked her out thoroughly until they were comfortable leaving their child there, and who could argue with the convenience.   

In spite of being raised partly by Paula, Ann’s children turned out pretty well, she thought.  Penny was a nurse.  She worked on the pediatric unit in a hospital nearby.  She had her own apartment and a live-in boyfriend, who, Ann thought, would make Penny a good husband, although what did she really know about that subject, given her own history?  Maybe because of her mother’s divorce and seeing what different lives her parents had lived within their own house, Penny seemed in no hurry to get married, and Ann thought that, too, was a wise choice. 

Jeff, also, had grown into a responsible, sensitive adult.  He had played football in high school and college, never good enough to go professional, but good enough to make David proud.  Ann was afraid that Jeff would let sports derail him, but he graduated with honors and went  on to medical school.  Fortunately, for Ann and David, he qualified for scholarships up the kazoo, so neither he nor they were on the hook for thousands of dollars in college loans.  Jeff specialized in emergency medicine, and Ann worried that the stress of that career would be too much for him, but he seemed to be able to leave the work behind.  So far, there was no serious girlfriend in the picture, but there was plenty of time for that. 

It wasn’t as if Penny and Jeff had always been easy children to raise.  Penny was head-strong, and independent, and Ann and David sometimes butted heads about disciplining her.  While Ann trusted Penny to make the right choices ultimately, David was the “no-car-for-two weeks” kind of father, which made Penny revolt even more.  Neighbors regularly snitched on Penny, saying they watched her climbing out of her bedroom window on more than one occasion.  Ann assumed Penny was having sex with her boyfriend of the moment, so she took her to get birth control pills, against David’s will.  The decision was typical of their differing outlooks and ways of handling problems:  she was a pragmatist, while David stood on principle, regardless of the possible consequences 

“She’s only 15, for God’s sake,” he said when Ann told him about the birth control pills.  “Why don’t you just invite Kevin [the current boyfriend] to spend the night!  Have other boys take a number at the door.’” 

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, David.  If she is already having sex, I don’t want her ending up pregnant by the time she is 16,” Ann said. “She is not going to start having sex with every boy she knows just because she is taking the pill.  Give her some credit!” 

Ann hated that her daughter was growing up so fast, or at least that she was making adult decisions too fast.  Ann had been 20 when she first had sex, and that was with David who had little more experience than she.  But she also knew Penny was driven and had known she wanted to be a nurse since she was old enough to care for her dolls with their “colds” and “boo-boos.”   

Jeff was another story.  He didn’t drink or smoke as a teen; he just wasn’t interested. But he was apt to befriend classmates that were the kinds of teenagers Ann and David would have discouraged him from befriending.  Jeff always stuck up for them, saying they were bullied at school, or they had hard lives at home.  He had lent his car to a friend, who got drunk and ran into a mailbox and then through a yard,  destroying a couple well-cared-for gardens.  The home owner came after their insurance, of course.  Jeff paid Ann and David back for the money they were out for his friend’s damage, although it took him a couple years of his part-time job to do it.  Ann and David would have been happy if the incident taught Jeff a lesson, but it didn’t.  Jeff always seemed to be on the hook for the negligence of his friends, and he never complained or felt used.  Ann could imagine that someday Jeff would work at a clinic for the homeless or volunteering, at least, where he felt needed.   

Having Penny and Jeff had been the greatest experiences of Ann’s life, but it also heightened the stresses between David and her, making their differences more apparent and more difficult.  In imagining  Katie’s and John’s lives, she hoped for them a better future.  She hoped their new baby, boy or girl, would bring them closer together, not drive them further apart. 

On a sunny April morning, as she was driving to work, Ann saw a bright banner with blue letters strung on the portion of the fence closest to the street.  The letters announced “It’s a Boy!”  She felt happy to know about the baby; she had been counting the months since she first saw the balloons, and she knew Kathie might be due soon.  She felt like knocking on their door and congratulating the couple on the baby, but that would be ridiculous, since she didn’t really know them.  Did she expect them to bring the baby to the door for her to hold and cuddle? 

As she drove home from work that night, there were several cars in the driveway, mother and mother in-law coming to help the new parents?  Friends from work dropping off gifts?   

When she and David brought Jeff home from the hospital, looking more like one of the animals used for dissection in biology classes than a human.  He was tiny and bald with skin so red it looked burned.  He was kept in an incubator for almost a month, until his lungs developed enough that the doctors felt it was safe to let him go home.   Ann and David hovered over him at home, taking turns sitting by his crib all hours of the day and night.  Jeff held onto their fingers, cooing, and sleeping as they watched his chest rise and fall with each breath.  But when he began gaining weight, he burgeoned, and they felt they could, at last, relax.  They could not even dream that he would grow into a six-foot tall, muscular teen, who would excel at football and swimming.   

What a difference it was when Penny was born.  She was a chubby-cheeked, brown-eyed baby, who immediately let it be known what she wanted.  She came out red-faced, fists balled, and crying furiously.  She calmed only when she was satisfied she was sufficiently fed, rocked, and dry.  Her strong personality was evident from the moment the nurse put her to Ann’s breast, and she never changed.  Even as a toddler, Penny was determined to do things her way – no holding Mom’s hand as she learned to walk.  David said it was as if she were born a runner and had to learn to slow down and walk.  She was a fussy eater, refusing to eat what she didn’t like, no matter what the punishment.  If David made her sit at the table until she ate her spinach, she sat quietly until she fell asleep.  If David would not allow her to have dessert until she finished her broccoli, she went without with no complaint.  It was as if even at an early age she knew choices involved sacrifices, and she was willing to make them to get exactly what she wanted. 

It was not long until Ann, on her way to work, saw John going to the front yard to pick up the newspaper with his young son in his arms.  The baby had blond curls and chubby, flailing legs.  And on her way home, on days when she had to stay late at work, she watched Katie or John unloading the baby from his car seat.  Sometimes, he looked as if he were already asleep by the time they got to the door. 

There were no signs or balloons on the fence for several months.  Then, on a Saturday, Ann saw a banner announcing “Happy Birthday, Kevin!”  The letters were white, which stood out on the bright blue background.  Katie was getting out of her car, carrying a cake box in one hand and balancing Kevin, who was straddling her waist, asleep against her chest.  John was lugging a white rocking horse with a mane of yellow yarn.  Ann thought it was a bit too soon for a rocking horse, but she knew how anxious parents were to give their children every advantage.   How soon before John would be putting together a train set for Kevin?  How soon before his first tricycle, even if Kevin had to hold him onto the seat?  Ann pulled over and watched for a few minutes, as Katie and John made trip after trip from the car to the house.  She wanted so much to be part of this family, not just someone watching (probably somewhat creepily) from the street.   

Soon, when the weather permitted, Ann began walking her dog Charlie near their house.  Charlie was excited his territory was expanding, and, Ann thought, the extra blocks would do her good, too.  A few times, Katie or John would be on the porch with the baby, and Ann would smile and wave.  Charlie, as Charlie was wont, would be pulling on the leash to make her walk faster. 

On a Sunday morning several months after Kevin’s birthday, Ann, with Charlie in tow, watched as John pulled Kevin in a shiny red wagon down the sidewalk.  Kevin giggled and clapped his little hands as they bumped over the sidewalk.  When Kevin caught sight of her and the dog, he broke out in a big smile.  John turned to see whom Kevin was smiling at, waved at her, turning back to the baby and in his best baby voice saying, “Doggy?”  Ann wanted to walk closer and start a conversation with John, but this seemed to be a private father and son moment, and she did not want to interfere. 

Ann used to pull Jeff in a similar wagon.  He sat perfectly still, holding on to the sides of the wagon.  Penny, on the other hand, tried to stand up en route, and squalled when Ann and David made her sit down.  Eventually, they discovered she was much more interested in pulling the empty wagon than riding in it, even when she was barely able to walk.  She would stop the wagon, put rocks or trash she found on the sidewalk in the wagon, and then continue on, babbling incomprehensible words to herself.      

As Kevin grew, Katie and John spent more time on their back patio.  John had set up a swing set with a baby swing and a slide.  When the weather was good, each time Ann passed the house, either in her car or while walking Charlie, Katie was sitting on a chaise, watching John and Kevin.  Ann waved as she passed, and Katie waved back. 

A couple months later, a new banner, “Coming soon!”  spanned the fence along side a bunch of pink balloons tied to a post.   Ann thought they must have gotten results from an ultrasound.  This was so much like how her own family evolved:  just when Jeff was becoming a bit more independent, she and David found out they were expecting Penny.  They were overjoyed and overwhelmed at the same time.  

They had barely put dents in their loans, and now they would have another responsibility.    

On her way to work, Ann would occasionally see Katie slowly easing herself into her car in the morning, so she knew she was still working.  Finally, when Ann no longer spotted Katie going to work, as she was on her own way to work, she assumed the baby had been born. Then there was the inevitable sign on the fence, placed by women bearing baby gifts:  “Welcome, Molly!” in gilt-edged letters.  The traffic in and out of the house was steady for a few days, including men John’s age, enjoying cigars on the front porch and clapping John on the back as if he had done something miraculous. 

When the weather was still warm, Ann continued to walk Charlie near Katie’s and John’s house.  Sometimes, if Kevin was outside with one of his parents, Kevin would toddle toward the dog, his hand outstretched.  One afternoon, after asking if it was okay to let him pet Charlie, Katie moved Kevin’s hand gently down Charlie’s neck.  “This is the way you pet a dog,” Katie said.  The next “pet” was more of a smack, but Charlie tolerated it well.  He was almost impossible to rile, and he turned to Ann as if for permission to let the little boy pet him again.   

“How old is your son?” Ann asked, knowing full well how old Kevin was.  The question led to a brief conversation.   Ann was reluctant to move on, even as Katie began to lead Kevin back to the patio.    

Afterwards, each time Ann walked Charlie past their house, Katie or John waved and urged Kevin to wave, too.  Sometimes, when Katie or John was sitting on the porch with Kevin or Molly, Ann sat on the porch step, telling them about her own children while letting Charlie nuzzle the children or flip over on his back for belly rubs.  Kevin giggled when Charlie squirmed under his hand, managing to squeal some version of the dog’s name:  “Chawrey” or just “Pubby.”   

On a Saturday afternoon walk with Charlie,  Ann strolled past Katie’s and John’s house while Katie was sitting on the porch with Molly in her arms.  Just then, Katie’s cell phone rang, and she struggled to manage the squirming baby as she talked on the phone.  Ann quickly walked Charlie up to the porch, plopped on the bottom step and held out her arms to take Molly so her mother could concentrate on her telephone call.  Katie looked surprised but grateful.  The baby examined her face intensely, feeling her lips and nose and nearly sticking a finger in her eye.  For a moment, she frowned and looked as if she would cry, but when Ann said her name, she smiled.  Ann loved feeling the weight of this live creature in her arms and smelling her sweet, milky breath.   

“What a pretty girl you are, Molly!”  The baby stared at her, fascinated by this person that seemed to know her.  When the phone conversation was over, Ann surrendered the baby reluctantly. 

 Ann felt a sense of purpose as she spent more and more time with Katie and John.  She volunteered to baby sit, and a few times – not nearly as many as she had hoped — when the grandmothers were unavailable, Katie called her to sit with the children while she and John had evenings out alone.   

David had remarried to a woman with a couple children of her own, which he seemed to her to regret.  When she saw him at family functions, he did not seem happy to have landed back in a position of family responsibilities, but that, she thought, was his problem.  She now had the best of worlds; she felt needed and wanted, but she had no financial obligations, and she could spend time with Kevin and Molly only when she wanted.  They were like a fantasy family. 

Jeff and Penny had lives of their own.  Of course, she knew this was inevitable.  They carved out evenings and sometimes whole days for her, but she could feel them slipping away.  Jeff had a new girlfriend, and Penny had signed up with an agency that found nursing jobs abroad.  She had shed the live-in boyfriend, and she was now free to go wherever she chose.   

Ann knew that in a few years, Kevin and Molly would be off to pre-school and then kindergarten, and she would see less of them during her drives to and from work or on her walks with Charlie.  Until then, it was enough.  They had brought back the happiest years of her life, and she felt less alone. 

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Nancy Lines spent most of her working life as a legal assistant in a large law firm. She also taught Composition part-time at area community colleges. Some of her stories and essays have been published in national journals.