Neighborly(37)

I finish with the boxes. Then I lift Sadie’s car seat and carry her up the front steps. She’s in a mellow mood, lulled by the sunshine and breezes that can be felt even ten blocks off the water. Inside, I give her a bottle, change her diaper, and lay her in her crib. She goes down easily. I feel like a good mother, an in-control mother. Normal, that’s what I am.

Back downstairs in the living room, I sit on the love seat, the laptop on my knees. I try not to stare longingly at the desk that hasn’t been built this week. It’s a beautiful day, Sadie’s content, and Doug and I are back on track.

I check again on Part C for Sadie’s dresser. I’m tired of pulling her clothes item by item out of the garbage bags we used for the move. Tired of thinking in terms of garbage.

If Part C arrives tomorrow, then Doug will have the whole weekend to put the dresser together. And if he doesn’t work late tonight, I’ll ask him to bolt the bookshelf to the wall. It can’t take that long, and I’d be able to get rid of five boxes of books and break down the cardboard in time for tomorrow’s trash pickup. That’ll feel satisfying—a far better climax than our recent sex. I wouldn’t be faking my pleasure at unpacking the books.

Oddly, though, the tracking service reports that Part C was delivered this morning, left at the front door.

I was just outside, and there was nothing on the porch. I call Homestore’s customer service, and they refer me to the shipping company. I’m getting increasingly angry. I’m sick of waiting and living in chaos.

“The driver left it at the address at 10:38 today,” I’m told.

“I was home, and I never heard a knock.”

“They don’t always knock.”

They confirm my address. They put me on hold and come back to report that they spoke with the driver, who insists that the package was left on the doorstep. That’s when I get a sinking feeling.

“We can launch a full investigation to try to find it, and the shipper can file a claim . . .”

I’m barely listening. I’ve had lots of packages delivered to this house, and to our previous address, which was in a neighborhood with much higher crime. Nothing’s ever gone missing before.

I’m convinced that the same neighbor who’s been leaving notes stole Part C.

How could that person know what Part C means to me, that I’ve been waiting for it anxiously?

They couldn’t. No one would steal my package.

But it’s not like it just up and walked away.

I yank the front door open to do one last check, in case I somehow missed it. No Part C. Only cardboard from those same blasted dining room chairs.

YOUR POOR LITTLE GIRL

I feel sick. It’s not just about taking Part C but about invoking Sadie. When did someone leave that note? Just since I’ve been on this phone call? It wasn’t there when I took Sadie outside to break down the boxes.

A time line emerges. Someone stole my package between 10:38 and 12:30, since I was in the driveway after lunch, and then left this note sometime in the past fifteen minutes. Whoever is behind the notes is definitely watching my house.

Three warnings in two days, talking about Doug and now about Sadie. If that’s not raising the stakes, I don’t know what is.

What does it even mean, poor Sadie? What do they know? And what do they want from me?

They know nothing. They’re just trying to hit me where it hurts, in my mothering bone. To make me doubt myself. I’m a great mother, or at least I try to be. I certainly work hard enough at it.

Why would someone want to hurt me where it matters most?



You have 10 new messages from your neighbors!

I never used a home day care, but I researched them when I was thinking about it. I’d been considering going back to work and then I chickened out. I was afraid to have someone else watch my daughter. Silly, right? So here’s a list of three day cares that I heard really good things about a few years back. Good luck!

That’s from Raquel, sweet and self-effacing. My new friend.

These are good people who just want to help each other and know each other. To know everything about each other, isn’t that what Fanny—I mean, Val—said?

Dog walker, with references!

We’re cutting off my daughter’s long hair. Should we donate to Locks of Love, or is there something more local?

Colitis 5K Walk—all are welcome to bring awareness to the cause.

Mountain of Styrofoam. Anyone need it for art projects or packing?

So that’s how it’s done. But then, I didn’t even know about GoodNeighbors before last week’s trash pickup. What a difference a week makes.

Free Restoration Hardware dining room table and six chairs. In good condition, two years old.

Wonderful kitty needs a new home.

Please join our book club!

Coed softball game tonight.

See, the AV is full of good people. Welcoming, inclusive people.

I need to tell Doug about the notes, now that someone’s brought Sadie into it and is actually stealing from us. It’s become a safety issue.

Steve Johnson’s the best general contractor around. Trust me.

Oliver, of course. I see him on the site all the time, always the first to recommend painters, roofers, and contractors of every stripe. I suppose it is very neighborly of him, but it also strokes his ego. I have no idea how Doug could have talked to him for so long. I still haven’t asked what they talked about.