By Joe Del Castillo
Sue dumped the paper dishes, cups, and food scraps into the trash can. “I’d say we threw a pretty good party.”
“I think so too,” Pete replied. “Especially considering it’s our first time hosting 40 people.” He collected the plastic chairs, four at a time, and stacked them in a corner beneath the back window. “We had great luck. We got a soft breeze, enough to clear out the bugs, and the harvest moon provided the perfect accent to the evening.”
Sue laughed. “Are you taking credit for the harvest moon being early this year?”
“I’d like to, but no one would believe me.” Pete placed the bottles and cans into the recycle bins. “You know, we did blow the budget for September. We’ll need to cut back in October to balance things out.”
Sue raised her hand. “Don’t bring that up again. We anticipated overspending when we decided to do an open house.”
Together, they folded several tables and carried them into the garage.
“What about those chairs?” she asked.
A short distance from the back fence, two chairs bordered a fire pit, now a pile of smoky ashes. Pete uncapped a bottle of beer. “I think we should reward ourselves with a nightcap.”
He turned off the yard lights. Sue poured herself some white wine. They took their seats and faced the rear of their house. Taking a sip, she became quiet. “Pete, what you said about great luck. Are we lucky?”
“How do you mean?”
“I’m not sure. People like to say that luck favors the prepared. But beyond good planning for tonight—I mean—we’ve been fortunate—a good neighborhood, good friends, two terrific kids.”
“I know,” he said. “I suppose we have no control over that.”
“Who knows what will happen when they become teens.”
“They’ll be fine,” Pete commented. “Don’t start worrying about what will be.”
“Speaking of luck, look at Stella, our babysitter. What a great role model. She’s so mature for a 19-year-old, and our kids love her. I’d be happy if they turned out like her.”
Pete nodded. “It sure helps that she lives next door—no having to drive a sitter home. But I am surprised that Stella showed up tonight since we didn’t need her. Everyone here was our age or older.”
“Lower your voice,” Sue whispered. “Her windows are open.” The homes on their block were close, only their single-car driveways separated them. “I know why Stella came over. She saw Ginny Carson was here, and wanted to chat with her.”
“Why?”
“Stella’s confided in me that she’s crazy about Ginny’s son, Adam.”
Pete laughed. “So she wants to get to him by schmoozing with the mom?”
“Don’t make fun. She’s really stuck on him.”
“Is Adam interested?”
“I think so. He gets quiet when he’s near her. And he gazes at her when she turns away.”
Pete looked up at the moon. “You could say he gets moony. He’s a nice kid. Maybe they’ll get lucky like us.”
“I hope so. I’d hate to see her get hurt.”
“Sue, I thought the Aspens were avoiding each other.”
“I noticed that they stayed apart all evening, too. Janie Bablee is positive that the two of them are having issues, but she doesn’t know why.”
“Janie will probably create a story .”
“Stop it. But what happens if they split up?” Sue drank more wine. “How do you handle friendships with both?”
“Forget it. I’m sure they just had a bad day.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said. “Otherwise, everything went smoothly. Even Mr. Janus looked like he had a good time.”
“Sue, you lower your voice. His window is open too. He could hear us.”
“It’s past midnight. His lights are out. He’s got to be asleep.”
“Anyway, I’m glad he came over,” Pete observed. “I think it’s the first time he’s socialized with the neighbors since his wife passed.”
“That’s understandable. It must be tough for him. You know, until he mentioned it tonight, I never knew he and his wife hosted parties like this back in their day.”
“Really?” Pete stared at the dying sparks in the pit. “I’d like to think that, in some small way, we made him feel good doing this get-together, that he could be part of it.”
He got up and took another beer out of the cooler, but before sitting, he said, “I know you don’t want to keep hearing me on this, but we’ll need to cut back in October to balance the money spent tonight.”
“Not so loud.” With her wine glass, she motioned to the neighbors’ houses. “Pete, it was worth it. Years from now, we’ll recall this evening fondly and never think about what it cost.”
He sat back down across from her, the fire pit between them. He followed the fading smoke trail as it billowed straight up and dissipated.
She followed his gaze. “It’s such a beautiful moon.”
“Well, here we are. How about I put on the Neil Young song, “Harvest Moon”? And we dance to it? It’s the perfect time.”
He took his phone, tapped the connection, and played the song softly on the nearby speaker. They rose and danced slowly on the grass, circling the chairs and fire pit.
“Think anyone can see us?” she asked.
“Nah. All our lights are out. There’s just the moon.”
But two people did watch.
Mr. Janus, in the house on the right, and his room dark, gently pulled back the curtain from his second-floor window. From the house on the left, Stella, also in her bedroom and with the lights off, parted her drapes just enough to observe the dancing couple.
She yearned that one day she and Adam could be like Pete and Sue. While in the other house, the widower bent his head down and, with his hands, covered his eyes.
* * *
The writer lives on Long Island, New York and is a member of the Long Island Writers Guild. He has been published in New Pop Lit, Home Planet News and October Hill. He thanks you for your consideration.
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