Conclusions by Iris Rosewater

Eva was a newcomer. She moved in just as the trees were losing their blossoms. Her manicured lawn was sprinkled with tiny white flowers which fell lightly from their branches as Susan walked up to the front door earlier that day for the first time, their symmetrical petals sauntering in the unseasonably hot breeze and swirling around her ankles. Several of them managed to find themselves nestled between the chocolate chip cookies on the plate she carried. Susan shifted her weight and looked around uncomfortably after knocking on the freshly painted red door. That was supposed to mean something, wasn’t it? Good luck, maybe? A white-painted wrought iron set of chairs and café table sat in front of the bay window, beneath the covered porch, looking like a picture she’d seen of France. Susan had never been to France. Something told her that her new neighbor probably had. And, when the red door opened, she was sure of it.
The interior of Eva’s house was unbelievable. There was no possible way that this woman moved in only days before. It was impeccable. And so was Eva. She answered the door in a pair of grey trousers and a pink silk blouse. It hung delicately around her small frame, the v-neck plunging low enough for Susan to count a few visible ribs splaying out from her chest bone like butterfly wings. The pink hue was rosy against the pallor of her skin. Eva had the kind of face that must have stunned men. High cheekbones, icy blue eyes, a thin pointed nose and petal-pink lips. All of the striking features were softened by the onset of middle age. Shallow lines marked the edges of her eyes, the ghosts of old laughter and sentiment. Her face was pulled into a bright smile even before she saw who had come to visit. Immediately, Susan regretted waiting on the doorstep. She kicked herself for not writing a little note and leaving the plate on the welcome mat, instead. It would have been easier. Who knew what her children were probably up to next door and what destruction awaited there upon her return. Jimmy was asleep, she was sure, having been up vomiting all last night. Susan also regretted not having yet taken a shower. It was a miracle that she’d gotten the stupid cookies made, having been interrupted ten times by the girls quarrelling and the baby eating the puppy kibble. Her smile wilted when she realized that she’d also forgotten to comb her hair.


Like the lady that she was, Eva politely invited Susan to come inside, gushing about how wonderful the cookies looked and carrying them to the kitchen. Susan lingered in the entry way, tucking a loose curl around her ear before setting a tentative foot in the house. It was like something out of a Home and Garden magazine. Not a single pair of shoes sat by the door. The wood floors shined, un-scuffed. She looked down at her ancient Reeboks which she’d transformed into slip-ons after stuffing her feet inside hundreds of times without bothering to untie the laces. Should she take them off, revealing her sweaty feet? Eva returned, still gushing. The gushing was a little much, Susan thought. They were just cookies, after all. She kept on her dingy sneakers and followed her new neighbor into the sitting room. The walls were vertically striped an airy blue and chocolate brown. A couple of ficus house plants sat companionably next to the leather sofas and a furry area rug. Everywhere she looked were artifacts of world travel. Photographs, souvenirs, maps… mostly of glamorous places. Paris, London, Rome… Susan hadn’t been any further than Disneyland.


Eva asked lots of questions… how long had they been in the neighborhood? How old were her children? Did she work? What a stupid question - she had four children! Eva laughed at her silliness, placing a tiny hand against her butterfly sternum. She acted overly-enthralled by Susan’s humble world, punctuating her answers with an occasional “Hmmmm.” “How about that?” “Really?” “Wonderful.” Susan found herself begging her facial muscles to hide the irritation that began its own kind of gushing. “What do you do?” she asked, turning the subject from her own less glamorous lifestyle. “Oh, I retired early. I really just mull around these days. I used to be a business woman. Boring stuff… you don’t want to hear about it!” She laughed again, playfully dismissing the subject. Susan laughed along, less playfully. The way Eva moved bothered her. How she fiddled with the hair at the nape of her neck. The way she uncurled her lips from her white, even teeth when she smiled. Her legs crossing and uncrossing, toes bouncing circles in the air. The gushing over Susan’s admittedly mundane life. She was too much, perched gracefully on her sofa, the leather beneath her devoid of any ice cream drippings or kool-aid stains, pretending to care. It was insulting, really. Eva sat in her beautiful home, surrounded by momentos of her thrilling history, living comfortably in retirement and looking like a goddess while Susan (who could only be a year or two younger) sported a marsupial pouch of skin thanks to four pregnancies, rarely showered before noon or uninterrupted, refereed siblings and scrubbed crayon off of her dingy walls. Sue stood finally, making an excuse about the baby waking from her nap soon and acting regretful that she had to leave so abruptly. She bustled to the door, off of the cool skin of the sofa and the plush carpet, stepping lightly on the waxed pine.
“Please be sure to bring the children next time!” Eva called after, following her to the porch. Susan imagined her children playing with the little English phone booth and Eiffel tower and half-smiled. “Sure…” she answered, as the door opened and a wave of heat rushed in. (“Yeah, right.”)


That night, Susan picked through her irritable feelings. It was impossible to say what particular thing Susan detested about Eva. Probably the whole package, she decided finally, rolling over in her oven of a bed. That day had hit a record high. It was the hottest in eighty-seven years. Susan blamed the heat some, of course. It made her lay in bed agitated after a long uncomfortable day, pajama top pasted to her flushed skin, locks of frizzy hair dripping with sweat. Sue imagined Eva lying in her cool sheets under the gentle breeze of her air-conditioning vent… waking slowly in the morning, stretching her rested limbs and smiling through the last moments of her dream. Susan’s bedroom window opened to the teasing hum of Eva’s air conditioning unit. Off and on it grinded its motor through the long, sticky night, startling Susan out of her light sleep. Around three a.m. she found herself fantasizing about passive-aggressive revenge: shining strobe floodlights into Eva’s bedroom window, blaring the Mexican radio station at random intervals throughout the night… and she imagined with satisfaction as she fell into the strangeness of dreams, her perfect neighbor suffering from one imperfect night’s sleep.


Eva laid in her four-poster bed, fighting the nausea that came as an unpleasant side affect of the medicine that was supposed to buy her time. She contemplated the value of it - extra time to live - hugging her bony knees to her frame to keep warm. The air conditioner was still on, blast it, and bile rose in her throat every time she made the slightest motion to get up and turn it off. So she stayed very still, her teeth clattering, adding up her life. She found herself thinking of her new neighbor’s visit that day. Susan had such beautiful children. They laughed and chased each other around the front yard. How wonderful it must be to make a person, she thought. To see yourself in your own child’s face, in their expressions and mannerisms, while discovering with them their own uniqueness and identity. She had put off family. Men were a nuisance and she distrusted their shallow attraction to her. She’d been too busy, anyway. Work had been her family, her love, her reason for getting up every morning. She’d filled all her holidays with travel, seeing the world solo. Having been forced into early retirement after the diagnosis, she found fewer and fewer reasons to get up lately. Everything that needed doing was hired out by her old personal assistant. Even the house plants had an employee to take care of them. It would feel nice to be needed by someone. Now, her body was too unpredictable to rely upon for much. How lucky, she thought, that this morning she felt good enough to make herself look decent. Susan was so kind to bring that plate of cookies. So thoughtful. Alone and shivering, the sharp edges of consciousness were smoothed by the thought of someone so gracious living right next door.