10. Citrus
A warm breeze drifts into the kitchen from the pool cage, signifying the soft end to another slow day.
He picks up an orange from the wicker basket on the counter and begins slicing it into wedges, just like his mother used to. As he arranges the segments onto a small plate, his dog, Toby, begins to yap at the front door. Artie puts down his orange segments and lets the dog out, quietly following him. As he suspected, Toby has been set off by another dog being walked by a young couple.
With his feet bare and fingers sticky with orange juice, Artie smiles widely at the young couple who owns the dog Toby is accosting. He walks casually, trying not to worry about misstepping on his way toward the street.
“He won’t bite,” he says playfully, “old Toby here just loves making new friends.”
The couple smiles politely, and the young man says, “no problem, Maggie here might just lick him to death.”
The young man’s light joke makes Artie’s heart soar, he chuckles heartily. He launches into his usual questions; Are you from the area? How long have you lived here? And so on. He’s been trying this routine on every passing neighbour with a dog that he can find. His daughter, Billie, had bought him Toby as a way to help him socialise, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to give it a try.
The couple politely answers his questions, taking turns to explain where they’re from, how they met, and what they do for work. Artie is so excited to simply be talking to people that he hasn’t actually registered anything that they’ve said, other than that they live on his street too. When the couple politely returns the favour and asks about himself, he launches into his story.
“Grew up in Delaware,” he starts, his feet shuffling awkwardly on the shell-filled road as Toby circles the couple's small tan dog.
“Always been my dream to come down here, you know, living in paradise,” he gestures vaguely to the house behind him.
“I don’t mind it, although the living alone part is hard, I joined the church over on Edgewater, you know the non-denominational one? They’re good people. One of the ladies gave me a welcome basket, filled with oranges and other local stuff,” he goes on. He can see the couple shuffling uncomfortably as he rambles. The young woman checks her smartwatch while the man smiles unwaveringly.
“Anyway,” he clears his throat, “I love going out on my boat,” he points to the aging boat lift at the back of his house, “what about you guys? Are you on the water?”
Their street, a circle with houses on the waterway and inland, backs onto the Manchester waterway and Peace River. The couple shake their heads, inlanders Artie thinks to himself, pleased.
“Well, I’ve gotta take you kids out on the boat sometime!” he insists. The young man chuckles politely at the offer, the young woman is focused on their little dog.
“Hell, come check it out now!” Artie goes on, but the couple politely declines.
“We’ve got dinner waiting,” the young man says, “but thanks.”
“Ah, sure, gotta have your dinner, some other time. I’m a pensioner, so I’m always home, come by anytime and I’ll take you kids out.”
The couple say thanks and tell him to have a good night before they carry on with their evening walk. Artie whistles for Toby, who obediently follows him back up to the house. As he feels his feet shift from the shell-filled road, to concrete pavers, and then the cold vinyl flooring of his living room, he replays the conversation in his mind. The poor couple couldn’t have gotten away from him fast enough.
Artie collects the last of the orange segments on the small plate and heads back into the heat. Taking off his brightly coloured shirt and gleaming gold watch, he sinks into his pool with a plate full of citrus and a head full of shame.
Pulling up a lilo, Artie settles in for another night of floating around in the pool, thinking. He misses his community. He misses the kids. Hell, he even misses his ex-wife Debbie and her new husband Jeff. He misses his old problems, now he only has one. The unrelenting loneliness of settling into someplace new. He’s not sure that he can stand it. As he floats aimlessly around the kidney-shaped pool that he’s sunk his savings into, Artie can’t help but feel like he’s about to be flushed out by the great state of Florida. He’s circling the drain.
