Autumn Leaves

By Audrey

For Marion (enednoviel)

The falling leaves drift by my window
The falling leaves of red and gold
I see your lips, the summer kisses
The sunburned hands I used to hold

Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter's song
But I miss you most of all, my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall

(Autumn Leaves, lyrics by Johnny Mercer)

 

Their hedges began to overgrow, twisting and turning in on themselves as the yellowing leaves curled into shattered remnants of fall foliage. That’s what really caught my attention, although I was also curious after a month or two of not seeing the one with the mustache puttering around the flowers in the front yard. Not curious enough to pry, you understand. Just curious enough to mention it in passing when my daughter called.

"I wonder if they’re on vacation, him and his friend?"

"Mom, they don’t call them ‘friends’ anymore. It’s lovers. Or partners."

"Oh I don’t think it’s like that. You youngsters all think it’s like that."

She tisk-tisked at me for a while. Then the subject changed. And I didn’t think of it again until the hedges started to really get on my nerves. We have a nice, neat, quiet street that 40 years ago was filled with the sounds of children playing, and is now filled with the sounds of nattering widows. The natterers told me I should contact the homeowners association and complain. I considered it, then decided to wait a few more weeks.

But then, one day the bell rang and it was him, the mustached one, at my door. His hands were thrust in his jacket pockets and he hunched against the wind.

"Hi," he said, smiling nervously.

"Hello, uh…" I knew his name once, saw him at a few club house functions with his friend, but damned if I could remember it now.

"Ken."

"Ken, then. Hello Ken."

"I’m your neighbor…" he pointed across the street.

"Oh yes, I know," I said. "You and your friend." My daughter’s assertions be damned.

"I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you," he said.

I gave him a non-committal "hmm?" There’s neighborly, and then there’s reckless.

The nervous smile twitched, as if the effort to keep it up was almost too much for him. "I’ve seen someone here recently, cutting your bushes, cleaning up brush and so on. I could use a little help in that department now. I’ve had so much going on lately, and now it’s getting too hard for me to keep up. Could I have their name and number?"

"Oh. Uh…" I started.

His smile fell away at my indecision. "I’m sorry, it was too much trouble to ask. I’ll look in the yellow p-pages."

"No, wait," I said quickly. "It’s not that. It’s just that my son-in-law, he comes to clean up now, does my gardening and everything. I can’t really keep up either." I showed him my hands, gnarled with arthritis.

The smile tentatively returned. "Your hands. My back. Getting old stinks," he joked, briefly animating the crinkles around his eyes.

"Indeed." I leaned against the door jamb, ignoring the stinging chill in the wind. "I’ll ask Justin, that’s my son-in-law, if he can take a trimmer to yours next time he’s out. I’m sure he won’t mind."

"Tell him I’ll kick in some gas money, and I’ll be eternally grateful."

"He’ll like that." He turned to leave. I moved to close the door, then stopped suddenly. "I have to ask… can’t your friend, I mean, um…"

The man stopped. Tension flowed from his back. "He’s gone. Three weeks ago."

"Gone?" I blurted out.

He turned his head back to me, eyes glistening.

"He would help me clip the hedge. When I couldn’t stretch far enough. And now he’s gone. How dare he leave me with everything. The gardening. The hedge. The house…" His hand stole up to his face, rubbing his eyes.

As he stood there, with the overcast sky casting shadows on his grief, I remembered how useless I was when Frank passed on. 10 years ago, and it still feels like yesterday. Oh how I blamed him for dying, raged at him for making me depend so much on the kids.

"Come inside," I said. "Come on. We’ll have a cup of coffee and call Justin together. Maybe he can take a look at your gutters too. If they are anything like mine this time of the year, they’ll need a cleaning."

He took a final swipe at his face. "I’m so sorry. Just an old man’s embarrassed tears. Thank you for the invitation, but I have to get back. To our home. You understand."

Yes, I did understand. And as he shuffled away, I shed my own tears. For his friend, for Frank, and for the dying leaves on the overgrown hedge.

The End