Page 1 of The Family Man

SAGE

“Iam going to kill him!” I scream as I hold the pillow to my face and wonder what time it is. Turning my head, the clock showed 5:30 a.m. It’s Saturday morning, and the asshole neighbor of mine is mowing his god damn lawn. Who does this shit so early?

Mrs. Gable, my neighbor, said he was such a good boy. Good boy my ass. I live in the residential neighborhood of Charleswood, Florida. I chose this neighborhood because it’s safe, gated, elegant, and quiet.

One year later, God developed a sense of humor and had the world’s noisiest man purchase the house next door to mine. He moved in three months ago, and I swear to God, he is the motivation for me to buy a gun and shoot him in the knees.

He is an all-round pest. His music is loud when he comes in at 4:00 a.m. in the morning. I can hear when he slams his car door. He may be on a different plot of land from me—my tulips separate us—but damn it, he is so loud. His car is loud. The bike? Loud. Loud freaking dog!

Don’t even talk about sex, I know he must be a good lay, because I can hear the catlike meows of a man or woman. I don’t know.

I picked this house because, unlike the other houses, the last two were far away from the rest. That means less noise and a bigger backyard.

Mostly old, retired people live here. That’s why I bought it. The noise level was zero decibels. You may hear an occasional ambulance, but that comes with the territory.

What’s more exasperating is that everyone loves him. I tried to complain to Ms. Theresa, the head of the Neighborhood Association. She is normally stiff and cold as a dead body. I tell her my neighbor is unruly and loud, and she blushes and tells me he is adjusting!

Adjusting my ass! Finally, the mower cuts off. Thank God.

I roll over on my pillow, smelling the lavender-infused sachet tucked inside, and sigh as I sink myself in and close my eyes.

Peace at last.

However, my peace is short-lived, because this is the time, at 5:45 a.m., he decides to play his music. Is it something soothing like a violin or a cello? No. Not my neighbor. He is clearly trying to summon a demon or something, because rock music is pouring out of his house and is taking a seat on my windowsill.

I should go knock on his door and tell him pipe to hell down. I don’t. I have never actually seen him. I have seen parts of him. When I am peeping through my kitchen window, I can see his legs coming up his porch steps, and his roof cuts off his top. I have seen his damn huge German Shepherd. The dog is always in my yard. I have to shoo him away constantly. I don’t like to be confrontational, but I guess I will have to be eventually.

I roll over and as “Down with the Sickness” by Disturbed flows between our homes. I close my eyes and force myself back to sleep.

Sleep, I love sleep, I love the way my bed cradles my body and I adore—

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

I wonder how much I have to pay the mafia to get rid of someone. I should ask my sister, Ani, when I see her later this morning. She should know. What the hell is he banging?

I finally give up, roll out of my bed, and step into my soft bedroom slippers. I make my way downstairs to my kitchen, maybe a cup of ginger tea will help.

I put my kettle on and lean back on my white, grey marble counter. My kitchen—hell, my house is a perfect example of how I run my life. Clean, no clutter, airy and fresh. Even my plants are arranged neatly in a row. I love things to be planned and organized. It’s the reason why I do so well in life. Marie Kondo is great and all, but she wants nothing to do with me. I even made a career organizing closets and homes. It’s quite profitable. My sisters say they are happy I put my OCD to good use.

The whistling kettle interrupts my thoughts. I take down a clear teacup.

“What shall I have today?” I mutter to myself as my fingers open my tea box.

“Ginger it is.” I add the packet of ginger to my cup. Grabbing the whistling kettle, I pour hot water over my tea. I inhale the spicy aroma that is swirling up from the cup. Today is going to be a great day. Nothing will get in my way. My path is straight, beautiful, and peaceful. No one can take it away from me.”

I repeat the mantra and I place the kettle on the charge. “Today is going to be a great-,”.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Well, that has yet to be seen.

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