Lonesome Street

(Short Story- Part One)

The street I used to live on as a kid was called Lonesome Street, and no I’m not kidding. I’ve always wondered if it was named something different before we moved there. I had a running theory that my dad petitioned to rename it once he built our house, but then I realized he wouldn’t go through all that trouble.

My dad worked in construction, so building our two-bedroom house was a piece of cake. We lived in a small apartment the next town over, and for the few months during the summer I’d watch him, and his buddies work all day on the house. My dad would buy me a box of popsicles for the week, and I’d sit under the tree either for hours reading books or drawing.

My dad had been saving for that house for about two years. I didn’t mind the apartment, but every night when our loud neighbors above us would play loud music or stomp around my dad would tuck me into bed and tell me about how close we were to having a place with no neighbors. He also hated socializing with the neighbors. He’d make a beeline to our place when we were in the hallway, and while he’d give them a curt nod if we saw them in passing that was all that he’d do, not interested in making conversation with them in the slightest.

And then it finally happened. Move in day. I don’t think I ever saw such a big smile on his face than the day we moved in. Even through the hours of moving our stuff in the blistering sun, sweating pouring down his back (I couldn’t really lift a whole lot) he still had a smile plastered on his face the entire time.

When we lived in the apartment, my dad never let me hang up anything on the walls. He didn’t want to pay for any damages or waste money as he’d say. As we were setting down the boxes in my room, I noticed the walls were bare, no color on them whatsoever.

“How come there’s no color in here? The rest of the house is painted.”

He grunted as he set down a large box and glanced around the room before responding, “Well, I wanted you to design your own room and put whatever you wanted up on the walls. I figured after we bring in the rest of these boxes, we could go to the paint store and pick a color out.”

I was about to unpack some stuff within one of my boxes when he stopped me and said, “Don’t unbox just yet, we don’t want to get paint on your stuff now do we?”

A few hours later we were standing in the paint store, perusing through the thousands of shades. He was holding a book of colors, listing the yellow shades as that was my favorite color.

“Alright let’s see what they got here.” He narrowed his eyes as he stared at the colors and rattled out, “Granola, sugar cookie, macaroon, buttermilk, parmesan, shortbread…” He paused for a second and looked down at me, “Why the hell are these paint names so weird?”

I giggled at this, and he asked, “Any you like?”

He showed me the colors and after several minutes of contemplating I finally landed on the color that I wanted. I giggled again when he requested Macaroon paint to the man behind the counter. He shot me a look before a grin appeared on his face when I watched the paint being mixed together. 

We soon were walking back towards the car. He was holding both of the cans, and I decided I wanted to carry one too.

“Why can’t I carry one?”

“It’s too heavy for you, honey.’”

“But you haven’t let me try,” I was very stubborn and wanted to try things myself, even when most of the time I couldn’t do them.

He set the paint can down on the pavement in the parking lot. I surely gave him a shit-eating grin and pulled with all my might. I moved the can a little but couldn’t get it off the ground. He pursed his lips together and had a slight smile on his face. “Mhmm, told you.”

We set a tarp down when we got home to avoid stains on the carpet and asked if I could help.

He raised his eyebrows at this. “You want to help?

“Well yeah, it is my room.”

“Can’t argue with that. Go ahead and grab a brush.” He gave me a quick tutorial and it took us nearly two days considering we unpacked the other boxes at the same time. My dad was a messy painter, so it was a good idea to put that tarp down, he had paint all over his shirt and pants but we were finally done. As soon as the paint dried my dad took me to the store to buy some decorations. He pushed the cart as I put in decorations and posters and finally the house was complete.

The house felt like home immediately and I could tell my dad felt the same way and soon we fell into a routine. The town we used to live in was enormous, it would take us forever to get across town. But with living on Lonesome Street, we could get anywhere in this town quickly. The grocery store was literally only a few blocks from us and on Sunday mornings we’d head over there. I’d ride my bike while he’d walk along beside me. We never really needed to buy much as most of it could fit in my basket, but every once in a while, he’d have to carry some.

Throughout the week, I’d of course go to school while he’d work, and his sister would watch me until he got home. With his job, it usually wasn’t until nearly eight o’clock but he’d help me finish any remaining homework I’d have, eat the dinner his sister made, and would tuck me into bed. Then we’d repeat that until Friday.

Now on Fridays, we’d have movie nights. He’d let me pick a movie or two and he’d make us popcorn and we’d sprawl out on the couch for hours. Most of the time we’d both fall asleep, but I always looked forward to seeing how long we’d stay awake.

On Saturdays, we’d usually spend the day outside. My dad would have a project to work on while I’d play outside. I loved our routine and I think my dad did too. It was quiet, just the way he liked it and he'd always come back home with a smile on his face, despite the ever-growing bags under his eyes.

But that was until the new neighbors came. Well, they weren’t neighbors yet, they were just checking out the land before building a house. It was a Friday evening, and we were watching a movie when we heard a car outside. We’d never usually had cars on our street, so my dad paused the movie and got up to investigate. My dad was being nosy and stared at them through the shades. He said their car was parked not too far away from our house and they were walking down the street.

 “What do you think they’re doing?” He whispered.

“I’m not sure…why are we whispering?” I replied.

 “I don’t know.” He headed towards the door. “Stay in here.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.” He opened the front door and walked outside and yelled out, “Can I help you with something? Are you lost?”

The door was cracked so I peeked my head out, wanting to eavesdrop.

The woman turned around, her hand on her chest, certainly startled from my dad’s booming voice.

“Hi there!” She greeted as my dad walked closer to them. “I’m Jill and this is Mike, we’re newlyweds.” Her husband shook my dad’s hand.

“I’m Lucas, and congratulations.”

“Thanks! I take it you live in that house there? With your daughter?” At this point I was standing outside the door, my cheeks flared red as I realized I was caught.

My dad waved me over, and as I reached them he said, “This is my daughter, Riley. And yes, we do, I finished building about a month ago.”

She raised her eyebrows at this. “You built that? It’s gorgeous. Are you available to build ours?”

My dad took in a big breath and reached for my hand and grabbed it tightly. She saw my dad’s hesitation and said, “I’m just joking. We’ve got builders.”

“So what other properties are you looking at?”

“Just this one.” Jill beamed at my dad, and he looked taken back at this. I knew he was silently hoping that they wouldn’t choose this place.

Only a week ago my dad and I had a conversation about how he never wanted anyone else to live on this street, and how he’d drive people away that would try.

“How would you do that?” I giggled.

“Well…” He tilted his head to the side. “I’d tell them there’s a bad bug problem or maybe mice.”

“Are you really gonna say that?”

“I sure will. You like it just me and you here, right? No loud neighbors, traffic, get to play on the other lots too?” He poked my side playfully and I laughed again.

“Yeah, I do like it.”

“Good, only the two of us should live on Lonesome Street.”

So, I was expecting my dad to rattle out those “problems” with living on this street to Jill but instead he replied, “Well, I work in construction, so I know there are a couple of great properties where you could build a house. There are a few open lots on Wilber Street, Miller Road, and…” he racked his brain before saying, “Jackson Street.”

“Oh, thank you! We will be sure to look into those.” She replied, the quiet husband thanked my dad, and they left a few minutes later.

I swung my dad’s arm back and forth as we walked back to the house. “How come you didn’t talk about the bugs and mice?”

“Figured we’d have a better chance of being the only house on this street if I listed off some better streets, more populated ones. With how talkative she is, she wouldn’t last too long if we were her only neighbors.”

Well, he was wrong. Apparently, those other streets weren’t up to their liking as their house started being built almost two months later. My dad was peeping through the blinds when he heard a noise outside, he rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Damn it. I should’ve bought those other properties.”

“What is it?” I asked, trying to peek through too but he was blocking my view.

“Looks like we’re gonna have neighbors after all. So much for living alone on Lonesome Street.” He let out a big sigh and shook his head in disappointment.

“Should we make something for them?”

“Like food?” He replied and I nodded.

“Well, you typically make a housewarming gift when they’re moved in and from the looks of it, that’ll be a while.” He walked over towards the kitchen. “They probably wouldn’t want my food anyway.”

I shook my head, giggling. Frankly, he wasn’t the best cook, but he sure tried. “Speaking of food, what do you want for dinner?”

I thought about it for a few seconds, before replying, “Mac n cheese.” He face-palmed and let out another long sigh. “Again? I just made that a few days ago.”

I simply smiled and he made a large heaping bowl, and we sat down on the couch, watching another movie whilst eating our mac n cheese. I wondered how long it would be until the neighbor’s house would be finished.

A couple of months went by and throughout the entire building process, my dad was fed up. A week after the building started, Jill dropped by to tell us it would take about 6 months, but it ended up being about eight. My dad said it was probably because she was too damn picky and had to make the house perfect but all I know is that we were both happy to not hear the constant noises across the street.

On the day their moving trucks rolled in was the day we were building my swing set. I had wanted one for a while, but with it being summer my dad was busier than ever. Thankfully he was able to take this week off to start building it.

We didn’t get very far by the time she waltzed over. “Howdy neighbors!” she yelled as she crossed the street over to us. My dad’s head hung at this, a loud sigh coming out of his mouth, but with her being so far away she didn’t hear it.

“Hi!” I said and she beamed at me.

“Moving in I take it?” My dad asked and she nodded. “Yep, I’m not much of a help with carrying boxes so I thought I’d come by and see what you both were up to.”

“We’re making a swing set.” I said, her eyes widened as she took in our progress.

“Oh wow, it looks like it’s starting to shape up!”

“Honey…” my dad said to me. “Why don’t you go inside and get that gift for Jill?”

I ran inside quickly and brought it out and handed it to her. It wasn’t much as my dad said, just a bottle of wine and some store-bought cookies but she acted like it was the best gift she had ever received.

“You didn’t have to do this…”

“It was no trouble.” My dad replied, well it actually was a lot of trouble because my dad had no slightest clue what to get. About two days ago, my dad noticed that construction was wrapping up so he thought we should head to the store and get them something as a housewarming gift. We probably went down every aisle until he asked someone, and they suggested a bottle of wine and a homemade dessert. Like I mentioned earlier, my dad’s not much of a cook, and certainly not a baker, so store-bought cookies were the next best option.

After that, she decided to join her husband and help him with the boxes. She told us that her husband wouldn’t know where to put anything, so she needed to do damage control because he probably already messed something up. She then followed that up with that once their place was settled, they’d invite us over for dinner. When she said this I glanced over at my dad and saw the fakest smile I’ve ever seen on him as he gave a curt nod.

When we went inside, he practically slammed the door and said, “Of all the neighbors we could get, we had to get the most talkative ones.”

“At least she’s nice.” His hands were on his head, pulling at the greying hair as he did when he was stressed and paced around the living room. If you couldn’t tell by now my dad has never been a social guy. If he’s forced to small talk he will, but after my mom passed away, he reclused. For as long as I could remember it’s only been us two, my dad’s sister obviously came over, and sometimes my dad’s closest, and maybe only friend, Jimmy would come over. But it was always just us, and now his vision has shattered. I’m not sure why he was always so adamant on it just being us two, but I’ve never seen him this upset before.

“It’s still us two here, now we’ve just got some neighbors, dad. It’s not the worst thing in the world.”

He let go of his hair, the wrinkles in his forehead smoothening out as he stared at me. “I know I’m sorry, I’m being ridiculous.” He started to have a better attitude about it once she started bringing over cupcakes and brownies. But he didn’t like unannounced guests whatsoever. Jill would come by randomly and would stand around talking in our living room for over an hour. While it helped that she’d bring over some sort of dessert, my dad would hold back his tongue throughout the whole conversation, anxious to have the unnecessary small talk end. As she was halfway out the door, she said, “Mike and I need to have you both over for dinner. How about Tuesday?”

My dad’s eyes flicked over towards me, quickly mulling it over before he said, “Sure, that would be great. What time?”

“7?”

“That works for us.”

Dad leaned on the door as she left, a smirk on his face as he said, “Guess I’m gonna have to get used to this.”

Tuesday eventually rolled around, and it was nearing thirty minutes till dinner when my dad walked into my room.

“I guess we should dress nice, shouldn’t we?” My dad had on a stained shirt and muddy jeans. He just came straight from work and seemed stressed over this dinner. He glanced down at the dirt all over his arms and said, “A shower would be a good idea too.” I agreed and put on my yellow dress. A few minutes later he called me into his room, struggling to pick what shirt to wear. He ended up wearing one of his plaid shirts and he grabbed a bottle of wine of the counter and said, “Can’t go empty-handed.”

He shut our front door and linked arms with me as we walked over. “You look beautiful, honey.” I smiled at him, and he knocked on the door, unsurprisingly, Jill was her upbeat happy self.

Jill wasted no time to jump into a conversation as soon as we sat down at the kitchen table. “You know, I’ve never asked you why you all moved here.”

My dad cleared his throat. “It was quiet, no one else was here.”

“Guess we ruined those plans now didn’t we?” Instead of replying, my dad just shoveled another fork full of food in his mouth. While he was warming up to her, there were moments where she annoyed him more than anything.

“What grade are you in now, Riley?”

“3^rd grade.”

“Oh, wow! What are you learning about?”

We stayed there for a few more hours, chatting about random things and Mike and my dad finally found a topic they both liked, hockey. They dove deep into the team and players they liked while Jill was boxing up some cookies.

“Glad that Mike and your dad finally found something in common.”

“Me too, he never talked to anyone when we lived in the apartment.”

“He didn’t get along with anyone?” She raised her eyebrows at this.

I shook my head. “Not really, although he didn’t really try like he has been here.” A smile grew on Jill’s face at this. A few minutes later, we left. The cicadas were roaring as we stepped outside, my dad grabbed onto my hand even though there were obviously no cars coming.

“See that wasn’t so bad, now was it?” I joked.

“Would’ve been better if Jill gave us some of those chocolate chip cookies.”

I lifted up the container she gave me, and he grabbed it from my hands and popped one in his mouth. “Okay, now it was better.”

Soon after that, we began having weekly Tuesday dinners. They were mainly at Jill’s house, except for one time. My dad felt bad that Jill was always making these extravagant dinners while we’d bring over bottles of wine. Surprisingly, one night he offered to have dinner at our house. As soon as I got home from school I helped him clean the house and then he began cooking. To simply put it, he overcooked most things. I could tell Jill and Mike were trying to be nice and eat it, but soon after my dad ordered pizza.