Rhonda Dove, I don't think she had moved all day
I don’t think she had moved all day, because the house was dark even in the sunlight. I didn’t hear her little girl barking orders and smacking the cat. The garage door remained eerily still. I peeked out my window every hour to see if I noticed some change in the house next door, some semblance of life. There was nothing. Across the street on the other hand there was lots of movement. They were loading up the very large camper; it appeared that their whole extended family was going on a trip or something. I wondered if they wondered if she was okay. I asked my mom again what she had heard yesterday to see if I could get some important information that could give me a clue as to whether I should be concerned or not.
What if they were dead this time? I speculated deep inside myself. What if my indecision to call the police was costing them precious minutes that meant existence or non-existence? I looked out of the kitchen window at the front porch; I went out the side door to see if I could hear something. I imagined a horrible scene maybe he hadn’t just beaten her this time. Maybe… I silenced my thoughts, how silly I was, it was around 2:00 pm and I am sure they had just slept in today. Or they had left early this morning before I drove up. Why wasn’t my mom concerned?
“Maybe we should call the police?” I finally asked her. “They are always fighting,” she said quickly between the break in the television conversation. “I think I am gonna call.” I said aloud as I paced the floor. I wish I didn’t know the horrible way he treated them. I wish I could relax in my house and not worry about my neighbor. I wish everyone else was worried then it wouldn’t fall on me.
I couldn’t wait for my Spring break to end I thought, so I could go back to my college on the beach. But, there too my neighbors were always fighting. I heard the lady being slammed against the wall one time. I placed my ear to the dry wall and I could hear the escalating drama and I just listened until the push and then the lowered voices and then the door slam. He must have left because I could hear her crying in peace. I wished that they weren’t always drinking beer, and fighting, especially with their adorable little boy in tow.
Today, I wanted to be a little more courageous. Today, I wanted to make sure she was okay and that someone had looked out for her little girl this time. There was a big fight yesterday, and everyone says that they heard him beating her and they heard the baby saying “Don’t hit my mama!” They said he left and that there was no commotion after that. I finally imagined that they were dead on the living room floor and as I walked across the room to grab my phone I heard the familiar creaking of their garage door. Today I dialed anyway…
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