Act One
The phone rang.
It was bound to be Maria. Only she made habit of ruining my day so early.
“It’s nice to hear from you,” I said.
(I hated that she made me lie.)
This prompted a torrent of regurgitated pleasantries. Maria was a human greeting card.
I tuned her out until a threat emerged.
“For your cousin?” I asked. “Naturally, I’d love to, but…”
I sighed.
“Three o’clock? Today? Yes, I’d be delighted to stop by.”
Unfortunately, I couldn’t pretend to be busy.
(Maria could see my car from her kitchen window.)
“You too!” I enthused. “I’m really looking forward to it!”
We hung up.
I was enraged.
Now I’d be a wreck until the awful thing was over.
Act Two
I stared moodily at the line of cars on my street.
Maria’s party was picking up speed.
I observed two neighbors approach her door. Maria answered. They presented her with a bottle of wine. She promptly ushered them inside.
That’s right!
I had completely forgotten it was customary to bring a gift.
I scoured my home for anything unused. The only viable candidate was a garden rake I had recently purchased.
It would have to do.
I combed my hair, retrieved my present, and set off.
Maria beamed when she answered the door. I handed over the rake.
I entered her home to the sound of it being tossed behind some bushes.
Half the guests were familiar. They posed the greatest threat.
Fortunately, I spotted an isolated chair in a corner.
I sat, observing the others and typing notes about them on my phone.
(It is important to appear busy at a party, lest people think you are waiting to be spoken to.)
Eventually, I shifted to a patio seat behind the house, then slipped quietly out Maria’s side gate.
Once home, I composed a thank-you letter, explaining a crisis had forced me away from the happy festivities.
I clicked send and summoned a plumber to my house as an alibi.
I would eat the service charge to avoid going back.
Act Three
A post appeared on the community forum.
It was by a local tradesman. He was bragging about receiving $145 to sit in some fool’s driveway for an hour, doing nothing. He challenged any lawyer to beat that.
The post named my street. And the date.
Maria must have seen it.
She knew the price was one hundred and fifty dollars to escape her party.
I was mortified.
Who could she have told?
I began to see suspicion written on every face during my leisurely evening strolls.
I had to buy back Maria’s affection.
Bonsai seemed like the way to go.
I purchased a tiny tree which required daily pruning and brought it to her.
I rang her doorbell, but there was no answer. I figured she was on a walk because her car was in the driveway.
I left my peace offering outside her door.
When I peeked out the window an hour later, the tree was gone.
I was sure we were okay.
A Clarification
I want to make sure everyone understands this is a work of fiction.
I would never leave a neighbor’s party by sneaking out the side gate and hiring a plumber as a cover story.
I would sneak out the side gate and sit in my living room staring at the neighbor’s house until the festivities wound down.
Then I would sneak back in and exit the party through the front door, after thanking my host or hostess profusely, because that’s the polite thing to do.
Stanton Fenwick 