Mrs. Griffith ignored Mark, her ice blue eyes staring out the large kitchen window into the front yard. He didn’t understand her behavior, particularly after having sex with her daughter earlier in the day. The forty-something woman – he knew she was older than him by a few years or so – was just acting so contrary to being a concerned mother. I thought she was here to discuss my actions with Jenny, Mark Stevens blinked. I wonder?
“Er, Mrs. Griffith,” he said nervously, breaking the heavy silence that had formed. “Are – are you here about – me?”
“Yes,” the petite woman said flatly.
“Is it because I’m a ‘Peeping Tom’ as you called earlier?” Mark asked.
“To a degree,” she admitted, a slight shiver to her voice.
“I know it’s not legal,” he shook his head, turning his gaze towards the parlor across the foyer. “It’s – something different and somewhat – exciting. To be honest, I haven’t caught too many people, so far just Rachael Welles next door – she’s the one that got me on to it – and your daughter, getting it on with Brad Goodwin. Of course, I wouldn’t have had a chance with Jenny without the pictures I took, but…” His voice trailed off, his mouth drying uncomfortably.
“Are you bragging to me, Mr. Stevens?” Jenny’s mother glanced at him, arching a thin, brown eyebrow.
“No,” he said hoarsely, shaking his head. “Just – being honest, I guess. I’ve never known you that well, in all the years we’ve been neighbors. I was always at work and when I was home, well –” Mark smiled sheepishly. “I’m certain you heard.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Griffith said, her voice brittle. “I did. I – I was Sandra’s friend, despite the distractions.”
“She was rather loud, wasn’t she?”
“Yes,” his neighbor nodded. “You did love her as best you could. She – liked to talk about it.”
“I was pretty well wrapped around her finger,” Mark closed his eyes, thinking of his deceased wife. “I never looked at another woman when she was – was still here. Sandra – was my world.”
“And now,” the petite woman said softly.
“And now, I’m a pervert,” he finished bitterly. “I really do miss here, even with – everything I’ve done since. I hadn’t been with a woman until Jenny and with her it was – lust and loneliness. It really was that simple.” Mark sighed. “No one can take Sandra’s place in my heart and now look at me.”
“You’re not really a pervert,” Mrs. Griffith said, frowning. “You – had your needs and just acted on impulse. It would have different if you had met someone and dated since Sandra’s funeral, but you – you were grieving for a long, long time.”
“How long has it been?” he said softly, looking up at the ceiling.
“Four years.”
“That long? I must have really lost track of the time. None of the guys at the office said anything.”
“They probably didn’t know what to say,” she smiled bitterly. “Not many do. My husband never did. Men – men are like that.”
“How long has it been for you?” Mark asked impulsively.
“Ten years,” the petite woman grimaced. “Ten long years since the bastard ran off on me, leaving me alone to raise Jennifer as best I could. He never even told me why, just disappeared.” She shook her head. “I didn’t even know he was still alive until three years ago when I received the divorce papers. Hell, he didn’t come to the hearing and Jennifer – she wanted to see her father one more time. She hasn’t been the same since.”
“It’s rough being a parent,” he said, sitting down beside her at the table and laying his hand on hers. “I was hell on mine, I know.”
Her ice blue eyes turned to his dark green, shaking as they peered into his gaze.
“Mark,” her voice cracked, soft tears flowing down her cheeks. “I – I’ve been so lonely for so long and,” she sniffled, gently grasping his hand. “I watched you since you and Sandra moved here. She was my friend and – I was jealous of her, for having such a loving husband. And – and now –” her voice caught.
“I’ve fucked your daughter,” his voice was hollow.
“Yes,” Mrs. Griffith sobbed, standing up abruptly and turning towards the foyer.
“I’m sorry,” he said, quickly following his dead wife’s friend and taking her in his arms. “I’m so, so sorry I hurt you.”
She pressed her face into his chest, crying as he gently stroked her honey-brown locks. |