“Some may fall into your yard,” said Anna. “So I just wanted to apologise in advance if that happens.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Oh… good.” Anna seemed surprised that it was that easy, that I would agree so readily, but, maybe, I imagined that.
This morning, Brian had some scaffolding up and he was up on the first floor level, and seemed to be doing “the pointing” himself. I thought he’d have some tradie doing it for him. So what did it look like Brian was doing? He was hacking down the creeper with a huge electric saw, allowing it to fall down on top of my car.
So much for some creeper may fall down on my side, as Anna said. She just wanted to apologise, really? Did stupid (old) Brian get the same memo, I thought?
I decided to go for a walk so I didn’t have to watch him. But, to (begrudgingly) give Brian some credit, as I was leaving he seemed to be pulling at the creeper, as though he was, at least, making some attempt, to pull the cut down bits back over onto his side of the fence.
He’d originally planted a Glory Vine, but my creeper had long since over taken it. But years back, after all the trouble, he had relented a bit and the creeper I planted was, in fact, one of the creepers he’d advised me to plant, one that wouldn’t damage the brickwork of his house, so we both knew that much. But, my creeper had out bid his creeper, the same way I’d out bid him on my house, the basis for his continuing animosity, so I am sure he was keen to chop down as much as possible, that much I knew.
He owned a landlocked block behind my house that only had laneway access. When he was starting to build his house, old Maggie, who used to own my place, got too old and moved into a retirement home, so Brian thought he’d buy my place and have a huge back yard.
I hadn’t seen Brian for a while, he looked old, I guessed he is old now. I guess he is an old man now a days. He seemed to be doing the work on his own, stupid old bugger. I wondered if he was up to it? Not that I really cared. Once, I would have wished it killed him, but now a days I didn’t care to put in that much thought about him.
The sun shone down, it was an absolutely sparkling day, so I went for a walk around 10.45am. I’d worry about Brian later. I knew I was going to be annoyed by whatever he’d done when I got home, but I tried not to think about it. It was a lovely day.
I listened to Hot Chocolate.
David messaged me, he was still in bed, feeling like a fat loser. I told him that he was.
I did Powerball in Elgin Street. I couldn’t remember momentarily what day it was and jokingly said to the guy behind the counter.
“If I can’t remember what day it is, I should really go back to work.”
“No, that’s okay,” he said. “That’s what happens when you retire.”
I laughed nervously. Really, I thought, do I look like I am of retiring age?
I wondered all the way around on my hour-long circuit what mess Brian would have made by the time I got home. Just don’t think about it, I kept telling myself. Up on that scaffolding, he was in clear sight, my nemesis staring down at me all day, it gave me chills.
I like his wife Anna and all and we have got on fine all the way along, but really do I put too much faith in her? She is Brian’ wife after all. She is married to the lying cunt. Maybe, she just does Brian’ bidding for him now a days, you know, since communication broke down between he and I, what is it, 20 years ago? Maybe? She smoothes the way so Brian gets to do whatever he wants. Ah! Whatever. Life is just too short.
It was a sparkling day in Melbourne, glorious blue skies and warm and sunny.
I headed straight to my rear French Doors, as soon as I got back, to see what the turd had done while I was out walking?
The wall of creeper was hacked into, to be sure, but it could have been worse. It hung in broken strands, but it was predominantly still there. No sign of Brian however. I wondered what that feverish little brain of his was up to? Maybe, he’d gone in for lunch? Maybe? Oh, what did I care, I thought, as I turned to head to my kitchen to rustle up some lunch.
Buddy was up the back, I could just see his tail around the corner of the car. I turned the key in the back door lock and opened the door. “Hey, Buddy?” He looked back at me and then looked back to where he had been looking. Something had his attention.
“Hey, come inside.” While the coast is clear and Mr Evil Nextdoor Neighbour isn’t around to talk to me, or even see me, or me see him, more to the point, I thought.
But Buddy wasn’t taking any notice of me. Had Milo killed another possum? I headed up the back wearily at the thought.
I was a little shocked by what I saw. I had joked to myself that the stupid old fool might just fall from the scaffolding, but it was a scenario far too delicious to contemplate seriously, but there he was, the stupid old fool, lying prostrate in my second car spot.
“Thank goodness you are here,” wheezed Brian. “I think I have broken my leg and my shoulder, of the side I landed on. I’m in incredible pain and I can’t get up.”
He’d landed on the rear garden where Buddy takes his crap. Always. We never had to teach Buddy that, he just naturally did it. Well, his face had, at the very least. Brian had a dog turd stuck to his cheek. It was a great touch, kind of makes you wonder if there is a god after all.
“You’ve got shit stuck to your face,” I said.
“Help me up.”
Brian, my evil nemesis, wounded in my garden, helpless, incapacitated. Horrible, nasty Brian who made my life hell for so many years, who never gave a rat’s arse about my feelings. The evil one.
I knew I had to supress the smile that wanted to spread across my face.
I felt very calm, sanguine might even be the term. I felt no panic, no angst, just a calm sense of retribution. “What did you do?” I asked. I looked up at the scaffold. “Brian, did you fall down?”
“I was pulling that creeper back into my yard… and a large part of it suddenly let go and I fell,” said Brian.
He really looked like shit, his leg was bent in a very peculiar way, in a way I’d never dreamt a leg could bend. And… I felt nothing but pleased about it. “All the way from up there?”
“Yes.”
“That must have hurt.”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.’
“Jesus!” I said.
“I know,” said Brian.
“That looks painful.”
“It is,” said Brian. “Can you call me an ambulance?”
“It looks broken.”
“I think it is.”
“Really broken.”
“Is there any other kind of broken?”
“I guess not.”
“The ambulance?”
He was pleading. I’d never heard Brian plead before. All I’d ever heard come out of his mouth were lies. Or what amounted to self serving skiting. “Tit for tat,” he said to me in that council meeting about old George’s monster extension next to my place. I never did find out how Brian got that job?
“I’m sorry, tit for tat?”
“Tit for tat,” he repeated.
He built the most hideous extension next to my place, as pay back for whatever he thought I’d done. Because I’d bought the house. Because I just ignored his objections to my renovations? Wouldn’t agree to the fence he wanted? Whatever it was?
I pulled out my phone and called Mark, who’d been apart of all the dramas with Brian.
“Do you know if Victoria ever bought in Good Samaritan Laws?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” said Mark. “I think that is an American idea. Why?”
“Guess who dropped in to see me?”
Brian moaned at my feet.
“I don’t know,” said Mark.
“Oh come on, guess who fell out of their coupe…”
“What are you talking about?”
“Remember how I told you Brian was demolishing my creeper?”
“Yes.”
“He has scaffolding and all?”
“Yes.”
“Guess who fell off his scaffolding?”
“Brian?”
“Lying at my feet.”
“What do you mean lying at your feet?”
“Literally.”
“What?”
“And in considerable pain, by the looks of it.”
I leant forward and pretended I was speaking to an old person. “Are you in pain?”
“I have already told you that,” said Brian through gritted teeth.
“He is indeed,” I said. “Really reliant on my help right about now.”
“Are you serious?” asked Mark.
“Here, speak to him.”
I held the phone to Brian’ ear. “Say hello, Brian.”
“I am in pain,” said Brian. “I need medical help.”
“Oh, you remember Mark,” I said “just say hello.”
“You are out of your fucking mind,” said Brian.
I put the phone back to my ear. “You are out of your fucking mind,” said Mark.
“Am I?” I said, to both of them, really. “Out of my mind, am I?” I checked with my still small voice and I felt nothing but pleasure. “You should be careful,” I said in a tone of voice I had never heard myself use before. “If I really am out of my fucking mind.” I squatted down next to Brian. “This could go very badly for you.”
“What do you want?” asked Brian.
“You want to apologise?”
“What for?”
“You don’t know?” I said. Maybe I was out of my mind, momentarily, isn’t that a recognised plea bargain? Maybe it was, but I figured I couldn’t get charged for doing nothing. I laughed to myself at the thought, which, I have to admit, right at that moment could have been construed as (the brink of delicious) insanity.
“I need an ambulance, not twenty fucking questions.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll call you an ambulance,” I said. “But first of all I want to hear you apologise.”
“Christian,” said Mark. “Is he really hurt?”
“I guess it is conceivable,” I said into the receiver. “Falling from a one story up scaffolding.”
“What does he look like?” asked Mark.
“Pathetic,” I said.
“”What is pathetic?” asked Brian.
“But you already knew that,” I said to Mark.
“Is he badly hurt?” asked Mark. “Christian, did he really fall?”
“As badly hurt as we were when he took photos of our 3rd story windows from well inside our back yard.”
“Or when he got the design for next door from old George so he could build that monstrosity and pay us back, yet again, for buying the house from under him,” said Mark.
“You’ve been a very naughty boy, haven’t you Bri Bri,” I said. “I want to hear you admit your lies…”
“My lies?”
“Don’t play dumb now,” I said in such a serious tone that it gave me shivers. “It doesn’t become you.”
“I’m in pain…”
“I was in pain for months as you lied your way through all those council meetings,” I said. “Being the neighbour from hell.”
If you’d asked me before this if I’d have found what I was presently doing difficult, I would have said yes, but I was finding it surprisingly easy.
“Tell me you lied at that first council meeting with your photos.”
“You’re insane,” said Brian.
“All the more reason to humour me,” I said.
“I need…”
“SAY IT”
“What?”
“Christian!” said Mark.
“Tell me you lied.”
“No.”
“Tell me you lied!”
“No!”
“TELL ME YOU LIED!”
“NO!”
I stared down at his pale face, his alcohol lined skin and I realised I just didn’t care. Not one scrap. What could he do? It was my word against his. Poor old bugger, must have hit his head when he fell.
“You know what?”
“What?” said Brian.
“What?” said Mark.
“I…” I looked around the back yard.
“Call me an ambulance.”
“I suddenly feel really tired.” And I did. “I might go and lie down.”
“I’ll get you for this…”
“You’re not really in a position to threaten anybody,” I said. I turned and started to walk away.
“Oh, come on,” demanded Brian.
I did feel tired. Really tired. There was something about drama and the sun and the exercise I’d done that made me suddenly feel really sleepy.
“I’m in pain, goddamn you!”
I walked towards the house. “The really scary thing is that I could really just go inside, go upstairs and fall asleep,” I said to Mark. “Does that make me a sociopath?”
Mark laughed, “I’m not really sure what that makes you,” said Mark. “But I have always said, people should never dick you around.”
“You have always said that, haven’t you,” I said.
“Okay, I lied,” Brian called.
“About the windows?”
“Yes.”
“About the balconies?”
“Yes.”
“About the photos?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Brian cried. “I lied about it all. You bought the house from under me. You ruined my plans, my amazing plans. It would have been so good, but you ruined it, you ruined everything.”
“And you have never forgiven me?”
“No, I have never forgiven you.”
I tilted my head like a pug dog. “There you go,” I said. “We’ll talk later,” I said to Mark. I pushed end on my phone.
I pushed the button on my roller door and it started to whir open. I dialled 000. The operator answered. “What emergency service do you need?”
“Ambulance, please.” I opened the back door and Buddy and I went inside.
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