It’s as if the skin shrinks, it’s so tight. Why can’t I be one of those people with a super high pain tolerance? I wonder how those people react to certain meds… My brain begins to wander. I’m pulled out of my musings by the rich timbre of his voice.
“I haven’t had to think about neighbors in a while.”
“Did you before?”
“Not really.” His lips tip up as his eyes lift, holding mine captive. They’re not brown and they’re not green. They’re in between, on the gold spectrum. It’s unnerving how they see through me—those ochre eyes. I’m unsure what I was even saying.
I’m supposed to respond but I can’t remember what we were discussing.
His head tilts, as if I’m a puzzle that’s missing pieces, before he uses some gauze to do something on my cut foot and thennothing. No pain. No stinging. There’s soreness deep but the surface level is fine. Weird.
The rip of a bandage pack brings me back to reality. Fresh gauze and a bandage done, he drops my ankle.
“That toe”—he tilts his head to the stubbed one still in the water—“You’ll probably lose the nail.” With that he stands, grabs his jacket and is out the back door.
“Liam,” I call from my perch at the bar.
“Yeah?” his disembodied voice slices through the night.
“Thanks.”
A grunt is his only response.
It was a long, successful day.
It is an even longer night trying to sort through the kind of man my next-door neighbor is. I have lots of hints, but he’s still a mystery.
If I were playing Clue, I’d lose.
5
klutzy-ish
Liam
My sister is a coffee snob. It’s ridiculous, but it’s certainly convenient when I’m at her place. My coffee, though, is cold and untouched.
I showed here early this morning. While her husband, Christian, is in his home office, Ayla’s off to shower and “feel human again.” Which means I’m on uncle duty.
Sophia and I are outside on their back deck. She’s bundled until she’s practically mummified, even if it’s summer. But if she’s okay with it, so am I. She’s sacked out on my chest, dribbling spit on my broken-in Mötley Crüe tee. And I’m here for it.
Some people do yoga. Some people meditate. Me? I have my bike.
And apparently my nieces and nephew.
I’m so relaxed I could fall sound asleep, but I’m worried she’d roll off. She’s a ninja after all. I christened her as such.
My nieces and nephew will always have me. I’ll never judge. Never chastise. Never dig at them. I’ll protect them and, where it’s within my power, I’ll stand between them and everything that wants to come against them.
When they’re old enough, I’ll show them how to stand for themselves, but even then, I’ll be at their sides or at their backs.
Renée will be fine. She’s a badass. I’ll make sure she never forgets it. I’ve had her back. I always will.
This little girl, though, will be my little Ninja—kicking butt, taking names. But until she’s old enough to stand on her own, I’ll be there.
This self-reflective thing isn’t typical for me. But something about the last year has made me soft when it comes to my family. The rest of the world gets what they get.
William “Liam” Jonathon Murphy. A name given to a law clerk or a podiatrist or some such shit.
