The Man Next Door

A Story by Elizabeth

Inspired by Rihanna's song, Unfaithful, this story includes a woman who is stuck between what her heart wants and what she's ever known.

Grinning at his gentle embrace, Sandra stole a glance of herself in the mirror.

While arching over her body, Robert whispered lovingly, “You can stay a little later if you want.” She could feel the tears start to form now. She turned towards him, gazing deep into his dark eyes, and pressed her lips against his. If only this moment could last forever, she thought hopelessly.

“I can't,” she answered honestly and stood to her feet. Every hair on the back of her neck stood errect; the blood spewing through her veins ran hot. With flushed cheeks, Sandra reached up to kiss him once more, the mysterious man next door, and took a second to admire his facial qualities. As if to say farewell, she stroked his shaggy chocolate colored hair with the backside of her palm.

And then, just like that, she was gone.

He spent many lonely nights wondering what had happened to her. How could someone so close seem so distant? She never called again, never even made a point across that she wanted to see him.

Many moons later, Sandra and her husband Keith sat at the dinner table, Keith shoveling spoonfuls of lasagna into his mouth. The thick silence between them still pained Sandra, although they endured this every night. An attempt to sprout conversation, Sandra beamed forefully and asked, “Do you like it?” He just nodded and continued to gorge.

Maybe I hate silence because it forces me to think, Sandra thought. Since she finished her meal some twenty minutes ago, she carried her dirty plate and ran sink water over it. Wondrously, she peered out the window. Her eyes seeming to buldge out of their sockets, she recognized a familiar figure standing in the yard next door. Had it really been three years since their...involvement? Keith noticed her bewildered expression, and to prove this, set his hands on her waist. “I'll keep you safe, baby,” he cooed unto her. She couldn't help but cringe, especially when he held her into his arms.

She felt anything but safe.

That night, Sandra, suffocated by Keith's monstrous body, stared aimlessly at the ceiling. She wanted to be somewhere else. In all honesty, she knew her heart belonged to Robert. She knew that, whenever she thought of happiness, Keith's face didn't instantly appear in her mind, and that this life wasn't remotely close. She isolated herself from everyone she loved to be with someone she couldn't stand.

“I'm not happy,” she thought aloud. Although Sandra knew this, she never before admitted it, and courage started to swell in the pit of her stomach. At twenty-three years old, she felt ancient, but maybe it didn't have to be this way. Maybe she didn't have to be with someone twice her age, either. She tried to think of the last night with Robert, how hard it felt to leave him. What if they had a second chance? What if there was potential for something so much more?

If she was going to do something, it had to be now; who knew of the next time she'd feel this empowered?

Quiet as the deep forest surrounding them, she crept out of bed. After patting Keith's head, she thought deviously, Sorry b*****d. Then, with skilled secrecy, Sandra headed downstairs, slipped on a thin white sweatshirt and black flip flops, and made her way next door. At any moment, Keith's weak bladder could have made him get up to go to the bathroom, and this thought terrified her. “It'll all be worth it,” she repeatedly reminded herself in a soft voice.

The rain dampened her charcoal black hair until she stood under his door. His house, she realized as nostalgia struck her across the face. Without hesistation, she began to pound against the door. Since he was most likely sleeping, she wanted to alter this as quickly as possible. Only a matter of time before a dumbfounded Keith searched the house for her. Then, eventually, every square inch of the forest.

To her delight, she immediately saw the doorknob turn and sighed with relief.

A figure who appeared nothing like Robert confronted her. She had wavy brown hair, tan skin, and bright eyes that reminded Sandra of her own. The woman possessed a puzzled expression, wearing a pink laced nightgown, and scanned Sandra from head to toe. Even though they both didn't know each other, the other woman seemed extremely cautious. As if she worked behind a counter someplace, the woman asked, “Can I help you with something?” Sandra's throat suddenly ran as dry as that night's lasagna. Stuttering a few times, she felt her heart pound and the world spin.

The woman's engagement ring glistened in the moonlight.