\u201cH<\/span>e loves it when I get mad,\u201d she said and she let go of the spring loaded window blind and with a snap, it hit the ledge with its full weight. \u201cI can tell,\u201d she said to her husband\u2019s carefully turned back which, it seemed, said more than anything he could have said out loud. \u201cThere\u2019s no way this could be unintentional. No one, not anyone, in his right frame of mind would just do this.\u201d He watched as she grabbed the saucepan from where it was bubbling over on the stovetop and placed with a clatter into the sink.<\/p>\n

He seated himself in an easy chair and waited. He could tell she\u2019d had all day to think about it. He imagined her as she moved from one task to the next, crossing the living room, back and forth, on her day full of errands preparing for their holiday feast. Each time she passed by the living room windows, her gaze would naturally return to it, over and over and, with each passing her sense of injustice and affront elevated just a bit more. He dreaded what he knew would fall on him and spent a moment longing for a quiet evening reading from his laptop, his slippered feet before him and a glass of Merlot at his elbow. Out the window, he could hear the squirrels chasing each other through the last of autumn\u2019s brittle leaves and he thought about space. On the right hand side, his neighbor stood on his deck grilling steaks as the last of daylight settled over the trees. It all works great, he thought, unless you need a lot of space.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m certain it\u2019s not directed at you, my love,\u201d he said to his wife in what he hoped was a positive tone. \u201cI don\u2019t think there\u2019s a harmful bone is his whole enormous body. He\u2019s not malicious, just kind of . . . hemmed in on all sides.\u201d<\/p>\n

They\u2019d lived in the house for two years, attracted by the wooded state park that bordered the property on one side, but still with the convenience of an easy commute to the city. Were it not for the obtrusive sounds of the highway nearby, they would be more easily able to forget how close they were \u2013 a perfect starter town home. They busied themselves with landscaping and enjoying the wildlife at their bird feeders.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Six months later, they were awakened by the arrival of their new neighbor\u2019s moving van pulling up outside, followed by an SUV that towed a fishing boat. Not wishing to impose, but still curious about the new arrivals, they watched from the shaded windows as the movers unloaded the usual furniture and boxes with household goods but also a large glass-enclosed gun cabinet, a wooden rack with crossbows and arrows along with myriad of wooden decoys mounted for display. As night fell, their new neighbor finally appeared behind the wheel of a gold Ford truck with a mini-trailer hauling a shiny new all-terrain vehicle, its oversized wheels giving it a clown-car appearance. Jovial, loud and big, the new neighbor from Iowa moved in, it seemed, to the entire neighborhood.<\/p>\n

Ed Sr., as they later learned he was called, was a man of the outdoors.\u00a0 He had come to the east coast after his wife had left him and there was nothing to keep him in his hometown. He\u2019d fallen in love with a young research assistant who had a temporary assignment at the University in Des Moines, but when she had been transferred back to the National Institute of Health, he\u2019d sold everything, packed up, and moved to Maryland to win her over, toting with him his sullen twelve year old son, Eddy. In his muddy boats, \u00a0overalls and sporting a crew cut, Eddy could not have stood out more among the hip-hop skaters, athletes and gamers in the neighborhood. Eddy offered up his skill in bow-hunting, but this appealed only to the weird \u2018Goth\u2019 kids whose company he tolerated but just barely.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s infuriating,\u201d his wife complained. \u201cJust look at their yard.\u201d The backyard was brimming over with fishing gear, the boat and other equipment for his year-round activities, so the ATV found its permanent home directly on the tiny front lawn where it stood like some monument to the Outdoor Life Channel. Ed, Sr. smiled with pride when neighbors slowed down to stare, assuming only that they were envious of his good fortune and great toys. \u201cMaybe he\u2019s kind of simple,\u201d she said on another occasion. \u201cI\u2019m buying new kitchen blinds so I don\u2019t have to look at it from every angle of the house. And, the homeowner\u2019s association needs to do something about this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s not from here. In Iowa, these activities are all the norm.\u201d her husband said. \u201cI think he\u2019s oblivious that this is a problem for us. He\u2019s kind of a man-child or something.\u201d They were lying in bed, on a cool spring night, listening to the peepers emerging from the depths of the mud out in the woods. He thought of the man\u2019s imposing size and somewhat amused and scornful gaze as he watched him get into his modestly sized Accura Integra.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know. He\u2019s no Jethro. He\u2019s an educated man \u2013 I mean, he works at a private school as a technology director. What about Eddy? He\u2019s running a little wild, I\u2019d say. Yesterday, I came home and he had a target set up in the woods out back and was firing his crossbow from the second floor deck. When I saw that he was home, I went over to tell Ed, Sr. about it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cReally? What happened? What was his response?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, he couldn\u2019t quite understand what was wrong, although I explained it perfectly well. This is a neighborhood with children, pets and animals. How can anyone possibly have a target range with real arrows flying all around and expect that to be safe? Still there\u2019s no easy way to say these things without implying that you think he\u2019s a bad parent. Maybe I got through to him a little. But, he looked downright baffled. It seemed like he was agreeing with me, but I know what he was thinking, \u2018This lady has no idea how to raise boys and, this is my property.\u00a0 I\u2019ll do what I want\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

They knew Ed Sr. was making progress in his courtship when the ATV would disappear and Eddy would be cleaned up for a visit. She was a quiet, plain woman, and you couldn\u2019t pick a more unlikely couple. Still, his persistence in his pursuit of her must have been\u00a0 paying off as they saw her more and more around the neighborhood and in the cab of the pick up as they sped off for a Sunday afternoon of fishing on the Potomac River. Soon, she was wearing an engagement ring and Ed Sr. seemed to walk with a much lighter step as he prepared his home for his new bride by installing a wood stove and stacking rows of cordwood in the tiny backyard as fall approached.<\/p>\n

He gazed up from his escapist blogging as his wife\u2019s figure appeared hovering above his monitor, her arms folded protectively across her breasts, on her face a defeated frown.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s the final straw,\u201d his wife said. \u201cEither I\u2019m going over there or you are.\u201d He understood. She\u2019d spent her day in careful preparation for house guests for her first Thanksgiving as a hostess in their home. Her day was a frenzy of activities, the shopping, the cleaning. Each recipe card was laid out on the table in its proper order in front of her.<\/p>\n

When she drew the living room curtains this morning to find such a monstrosity, it must have put her over the edge to see it hanging from the large limb of the oak tree in the back yard, a perverse trophy — one newly bagged deer, legs splayed and tongue askew, it\u2019s blood draining into the hardening soil, in full view of the row of town homes settling in for their holiday weekend.<\/p>\n

He could put it off no longer. He rose from his chair and brushed off his pants and made ready for his visit next door. This was not the errand of women for they did not speak this language — this \u2018just between us guys\u2019 talk that was already forming on his tongue. The long-neck Budweiser would be opened and drunk, the kill would be admired, the size of its antlers discussed and sized up, speculation made on the amount of venison that would come from it, the squeamishness of women would be mocked. And, somewhere into the second beer, he would let those words out and they would take flight to land on the magic middle ground where there was plenty of space, where one\u2019s manhood was not at stake, then, that damn dead deer would come down from its rope ties in the tree. Somehow, he would find those words.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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