Thank You for the Roses
It had been unusually quiet on Dulin Street. Until the day he started appearing.
She saw him at the same time every afternoon. He would walk right past her house with his big fluffy dog. He kept to himself. The one time they passed each other on the street, he glanced in her direction without a word.
She saw him once in the rain, through her living room window.
How odd, she thought, that he always walks by at the same time every day. To the minute and regardless of the weather. Who is that precise? What keeps him tethered to this schedule?
She decided the next time she saw him she would initiate a conversation and get to know her mysterious new neighbor better.
The next day she glanced out of her window at 5 o’clock and there he was. He and his dog making their way past her house.
Same time every day, she thought to herself.
She jumped off the couch and ran out her front door. The smell of roses wafted through the air as she hurried off the porch. Her favorite.
She ran toward him. “Excuse me! Hi!” she called out. He looked her way but continued on his walk.
“Wow. Precise and rude,” she said loudly.
He stopped for just a moment but then continued walking. His dog made the only effort to acknowledge her, pulling on the leash and giving her a little wiggle of the tail.
Okay, so he’s not very friendly. Who was this guy anyway?
She was determined to find out.
The following day she saw her next-door neighbor. “Hi, Mr. Weeks!” she called out, running to catch up to him. He started and then gave her a warm smile. “Hi Junie,” he said, using his nickname for her. “Sorry, it seems like a long time since we’ve seen each other. You scared me,” he chuckled.
“Sorry,” she quickly apologized. “Hey, have you noticed that guy who’s always walking his husky down this street? Tall, brown hair, baseball cap?”
“Doesn’t seem familiar to me,” he said with his white brow furrowed.
“Well, he walks by at the same time every day — 5 pm. I was wondering who he was because I’d never seen him before and I thought I knew everyone in this neighborhood.”
“That is strange, Junie.” I haven’t noticed anyone like that. I’ll keep an eye out today.”
“Thanks, Mr. Weeks,” Junie said. But something was bothering her. Mr. Weeks noticed everything. He was somewhat of a busybody. This guy had been making the rounds for a while now. There was no way Mr. Weeks could have missed him.
“Junie?” Mr. Weeks called.
“Yes?”
“Did you hear about the fire?”
“Fire? No…”
“There was an explosion nearby. Started with a gas leak. Such a terrible thing. I think someone died…” he said trailing off as he noticed the look in her eyes.
“I’m sorry to share terrible news. I’ll watch out for the guy with the dog. I’d like to introduce myself.”
Junie walked back to her house, unsettled. A fire and then this mysterious stranger shows up? She noticed it was already almost 5. She’d check out the news later. First, she needed to talk to him.
She walked out of the house, making her way toward the street where he would no doubt soon be headed. Sure enough, there he was, walking toward her, his dog in tow.
She stepped onto the street, directly in his path. He kept walking, paying no attention to her coming toward him. The dog looked at her curiously.
“Hi, I wanted to introduce…” she started, but he didn’t stop or slow down. She refused to step aside and steeled herself. They were going to collide but she wouldn’t move.
What happened next was impossible. There was no collision. She didn’t feel a thing. But she walked right through him. It was like he wasn’t even there. She turned around and watched as he continued his path down the street.
She turned and saw Mr. Weeks on his porch, as promised. “Hi Junie!” he yelled. “Haven’t seen him yet, but I’ll keep a lookout.”
She stood there frozen and watched the guy and his dog continue down the road.
He turned and looked behind him but didn’t break his stride.
He couldn’t explain it but he felt as though he were being watched, every time he walked his dog down this street.
Today he felt a cold chill, colder than he’d ever been before. Right to the bone. Misty always perked up here and would sometimes wag her tail at something. Something he couldn’t see. It was always right around this house. He raced over here every day as soon as he finished working, trying to make sense of this feeling.
Years ago there’d been an awful fire. The woman who lived in this house and her next-door neighbor, an elderly gentleman, both died. The houses had since been rebuilt but they remained empty. For some reason, he felt drawn to this place. When he first moved to the neighborhood he’d noticed a shrine of some sort on her front porch. Somebody had been bringing flowers. But it had been a while, bouquets lay wilted and strewn about. He’d cleaned it up and brought fresh flowers. Roses this time.
The other day when he passed by he could have sworn he heard a voice. It stopped him in his tracks.
“C’mon Misty. Same time tomorrow.”
