Know Thy Neighbor

I pretty much do the same thing everyday. I wake up around 1pm, lay in bed for about an hour while snacking on something from my bedside table. Once I’m bored enough of my phone I get up and wash my face, brush my teeth, the usual morning routine, then I come back to my room. I have some many plans and thoughts and dreams, but I feel like I need something external from myself to give me that push, to get me started in the right direction. I’ve reached out to psychic mediums and tarot readers. I’ve bought oracle decks and crystals and have even charged them under the moonlight in order to “activate” their powers. I’ve attempted reading more books in order to spark inspiration from a character. But I’m still here in my bed, where I’ve been for that past few weeks.

I do have friends, and I’m actually a very sociable person and I get along great with lots of people. It’s just kind of hard to make new friends when you’re unemployed and you aren’t a drinker so you don’t frequent bars and pubs like everyone else, it’s just easier to stay to myself in my room. But I’ve not lost all hope for myself and my future, I have optimism on my side and that’s more than half the battle I think. I’ve decided to opt for a change of scenery for a bit of inspiration. So instead of searching for odd jobs and freelance work from my double mattress, I’ve decided to do it from my bedroom window. I’ve pushed aside the used makeup wipes and bobby pins and cleared space enough for my laptop and the bag of walnuts I’ve been enjoying for the past few days. I look out the window to see what everyone else in the neighborhood is up to. There are children screaming as they jump on their backyard trampoline. There are people watering their houseplants with a spray bottle, my neighbor is getting a package delivered by a courier, and there are people doing things like jogging, walking dogs, and riding bikes.

I end up passing the time by listening to a paranormal/true crime podcast, finishing off the bag of walnuts, and having a call with my mom. Before I knew it, it was time to decide what was for dinner. I’m not the meal prep type of person. I kind of enjoy the rush of going through my cupboards, fridge, and freezer and scrounging together a more often than not, subpar meal. But it’s the satisfaction of truly making something out of nothing, with no real plans, just spontaneity and a deeply seeded hunger. I envision myself as a mashup between a hunter gatherer and a Chopped contestant. Yes, the meal may just end up being white rice, corn, two shrimp tempuras, and a fried egg on top of the rice, but a meal’s a meal.

After dinner I wash up the dishes, then I wash up myself and I pile back into bed with my laptop, ready to cue up the trash reality tv show I’ve been binge watching so I can dissect each cast member and psychoanalyze them with my friend for when we talk next. Right as I get comfortable, lights already off, eyes getting heavy, I realize I’ve left the curtain on my window wide open. The sun rises far too early for me to leave them open overnight. So, I slither out of the covers and tiptoe to the window and pull the curtains shut. As go to turn around and head back to bed, I think I caught a glimpse of that package still sitting on my neighbor’s doorstep. I open the curtains again, just for a peak to be sure I saw it still there. That’s a bit strange because that old man is usually at home all day. I would know, because I’m also home all day and because he normally leaves his side doors wide open when the weather is nice. And I can see him as he sits at his kitchen table and talks loudly to the small TV with antenna that sits in his kitchen window. Maybe I’ll check in the morning to see if it’s still there.

My eyes open at 9:27, the earliest I’ve been up in months. The thought of the package laying in front of my neighbor’s door for so long honestly bothered me. First thing I did was jump up and look out the window. It was still there, although it was slightly shifted a bit, probably due to the winds last night. I decided I needed to get a closer look, I couldn’t be sure if this was out of curiosity or concern. I mean It really wasn’t that big of a deal, it was just a little brown box that had been left overnight. I quickly pulled on my sweatpants, rainboots, and jacket. I grabbed my keys and card and headed out the door. I just wanted to walk past and see if I could see anyone in the widows or any lights on inside. That would make me feel much better. I walked past his house, squinting to see if I saw any movement. I didn’t want to look too suspicious, so I didn’t stop I just kept on going. I went to the convenience store up the street to pass some time before I walked past again. On my way back I saw no change. The house looked dark and barren. I thought about pretending to have forgotten something at the store just so I could buy myself another inconspicuous walk past, but I decided to just go home and set up a stake out from there.

Throughout the next day and half I spend the majority of my time peering out the window. Seeing the mail person come and slip letters into the mail slot. I couldn’t help but think about how much it was piling up. I was certain no one was home at this point, and I had finally gathered enough courage to just go and see for myself. I walked over with my phone gripped tightly in my hand as I approached the stone path leading to his front steps. Before I knew it, I was standing at the package. It was one that looked old timey. It instantly reminded me of Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music, a brown paper package tied up with strings. The package had no stamps, no barcode, no return address. It just had “Wesley” written on it in black Sharpie. I realize I never even knew my neighbors name, and here I am tossing and turning at night over a practical stranger and a small package left at his door. I think maybe the true crime podcasts are starting to get to me. I stood to the side of the package and gave an initially timid knock on the front door followed by a quick press at the doorbell. Nothing.

I listened a little bit longer in case I heard movement or anything before I knocked again, but harder this time. Still, silence. I picked up the package partially because I saw it was meant to rain later that evening and I wanted to make sure I was safely underneath the awning. But I also wanted to see how heavy the package was, maybe give it a little shake so I could guess what was inside. It wasn’t heavy at all, if I didn’t know any better I would’ve said that it was empty. Except I could hear something inside. Lightly scraping the inner walls of this box.

I knocked one more good time before heading back to my place. I sat on my stool at my bedroom window just contemplating. Why wasn’t Wesley at home? Who sent the package? What was inside? Feeling hopeless and honestly exhausted, I turned in for the night. The next day I woke up at my usual time in the afternoon. I couldn’t help but check on the package, and as usual it was still where I had left it last. After trying to distract myself for a few hours I went ahead and dialed the non-emergency police line. I told them it had been a couple of days and I’m concerned about the well-being of my neighbor, and I asked if it was possible for them to do a wellness check on him. The guy on the other end assured me that they would send officers over as soon as they could, but there was a high volume of calls coming in about fallen trees and such due to the rainstorm.

The next day the rain had cleared up and on my daily check out the window I was shocked to see the package was gone. Not only that, but there were cop cars and a white van out on the street and caution tape blocking off the house. I was too nervous to go over and have a look at the scene myself. So, I just drew the curtain shut and went to take a shower to try and drown out the terrible thoughts, and the sounds of sirens.

I wake up and crawl out of bed. I open the curtains and my eyes scan for a package that I know won’t be there. The lights inside the home are lit and the side door is wide open with the long white drapes lightly whipping in the breeze. A new family of 4 moved in a few months back. I’m not exactly sure what happened to Wesley, I spent the days following the police scene, avoiding the local news reports. I made sure to keep a low profile in the convenience store up the street, because the owner’s wife spends her days restocking the shelves and gossiping. I didn’t want to know that really happened to Wesley. I don’t want to know how long he had gone unnoticed. I don’t want to think about whether or not he had friends or family that had tried to get in contact with him. I didn’t want to care about it at all.

But there are still those moments when I’m standing and starring out my window. I can’t help but think about that brown paper package, tied up with strings. Who sent it? What was inside? And where is it now?