Meeting the Neighbors

They are usually sitting on their front porch, just caddy corner from our house (actually, it's the house we're watching for a former professor of mine), in their old 1930 brick duplex. Whenever I pull up in my car, I see two little old heads peering around the corner at me. At first I was somewhat offended and annoyed by this. Do they think I'm doing something illegal? Are they staring at the Kerry/Edwards sticker on the back of my car? Afterall, this is central Pennsylvania and small-town America. Then, when I reassured myself that, in fact, I am not doing anything illegal, and that they are just two old people with "nothing to do and all day to do it", as my mother says fondly of the elderly drivers, it became amusing. I started to wave everytime I saw them. And then, one day when I was feeling brave, I actually said "hi". I didn't think that the woman could do what she did, but she jumped to her feet and scampered down the steps and walked hurriedly to the middle of the road where she was sure I could hear her better, and asked me who I was. When I tried to explain that I was watching the house and I was teaching at the local university for the professor who normally lives there, she heard that I was the daughter of the woman in the house, and told me to say hi to my mother. I said okay, and left it at that.
A few days ago, they were on their porch as usual, and, after I waved, I was feeling particularly bold and so I ventured across the street to talk to them. Afterall, I have grandparents, whom I love dearly, and I know how much they like to talk to young people. I approached the porch from the side, where they couldn't see me coming, and, though I thought about getting on my hands and knees and jumping out from behind a bush while yelling "gotcha!", I refrained and rounded the corner slowly so as not to surprise them. In those next 7.5 minutes, I was consumed by their lusty desire to tell me their entire life stories, as they sucked the life force out of me with their tentacles tightening around me, thereby rendering me dizzy and motionless. In those 7.5 minutes, I learned all I ever wanted to know about Earleen and her third husband Robert. It went something like this.
"My name is Earleen, like the boy's name Earl with an e-e-n. And this is Robert. We'll be married 10 years this...November 18th, said Robert. Last year, no, it wasn't last year, but the year before we forgot." When I told her my name, she looked at me just as astoundedly as I had at her when I heard her name, and she tried to repeat what I had said. "Ahhngel..." I said it again, and she just said, "that's funny". And then she continued. "Did you know that I make a great three bean salad? or is it four bean?", she pondered. "But it's no good warm. He's the only one can eat it. All the people at the senior center don't like it." A car went speeding by, and she informed me that it was the pizza boy who always waves at them. "We used to wave at the man who works with the refrigerators and ovens at Sears, and I used to kiss him even, but, did you know, he died last year?" I said no, I didn't, and she proceeded to tell me about the boy whose 4 and he plays..."what's that thing?" she asked Robert, as she held her hands out and made a strumming motion. "Guitar" he said. "Amazing", she said. "It's for those church...hmmm...gatherings." She then told me when the house was built and that Robert was born here,. "Not me", she says. "I'm not from around here. He's my third husband. The first one died of cancer and the second one is still living. Then they told me I got cancer, and they had to cut the whole thing off", as she put her hand up to her chest. "Robert is 10 years older than me. He is 74 and I am 60. No, I mean 63". I started to back slowly off the porch, and she began talking faster. Dizzy with my good intentions fading, I managed to back away and say goodbye.
I smiled to myself as I walked back across the street, feeling my senses return. The mystery was gone between us, and I no longer have to feel like a convicted felon everytime I unload something from my car. I shook my head thinking to myself what a strange name Earleen is. I'll keep waving, and, in another month, when my strength fully returns, I'll go back for another round.