Page 38 of After 5

“Do ya need any help unloading your stuff?” Gertie asked.

Darryl eyed his horse trailer and shook his head.

“Is there someplace I can park my trailer?”

“There’s a carport out back.” Gertie gestured with her thumb over her right shoulder. “If you unhook it, it’d probably fit underneath.”

“My mom sent you a casserole for dinner,” I said.

“Um…that sure was nice of her. Let me get my stuff unpacked and I’ll come by and pick it up later.”

Alrighty then. He waited until we went back into the house before he turned toward his truck. Gertie and I peeked out the window as he unloaded a knapsack and a guitar.

“That’s it?” Gertie whispered. “What’s he going to sleep on, and where are his clothes?”

“We’re inside, why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know, seems when you’re spying on someone you ought to whisper.”

We watched Darryl carry his things inside. Mrs. Jones, the prior owner of the townhouse, moved to an assisted living apartment. She left her bed and a few sticks of furniture behind.

Darryl exited the house, started up his truck, and, with a loud bang, drove away. A few minutes later we heard him pull into the carport next door. Having Darryl as my neighbor would be a challenge. What if he saw my outhouse do its disappearing act?

A few hours later, there was a knock on the front door and Darryl entered without waiting for the door to be answered.

My inner voice padlocked the door.

He whistled as he walked into our house. “Nice digs you got here. Mine smells a little like mothballs and Bengay, but I’ll have her shipshape in no time at all.”

“Here you go,” I said and handed him the casserole.

Gertie boosted up the potted palm. “Welcome home.”

“Cool. Hey how about I stay and y’all can eat supper with me? There’s more than enough casserole, and I don’t like eating by myself.”

Gertie and I looked at each other, and the timer on the oven chimed, announcing the ham was ready to melt in our mouths.

“You know, Darryl. We have dinner cooking. Why don’t I put your casserole in the fridge, and you can eat with us tonight?”

“Sounds like a mighty fine idea.” He handed the casserole to me and removed his cowboy hat, hanging it on the newel of the stair railing.

Gertie took the ham out of the oven while I set the table.

Darryl peeked out the sliding glass door, and his voice caught. “What do we have here?” He threw open the slider and whistled as he stepped out into my backyard.

Gertie and I looked at each other, then followed hastily behind him.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked.

“What?” I asked, hoping he was referring to the rusted-out grill and not my outhouse.

“That Aint Elma’s outhouse?”

I sighed.

“Yes, it is,” Gertie said. “She left it to Jen in her will.”

“Well lucky duck, they don’t make outhouses like this anymore.”

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