Neighbors, A Novel (eBook)

Rodney Nelsestuen (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
272 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-7729-5 (ISBN)

Infos

'Neighbors' takes place in Eagles Pond, a fictional upper-middle class neighborhood in Minneapolis, where the complexion of the people and value systems are rapidly changing. These changes leave the middle-aged protagonists, Peter Jensen, Leroy Thompson, and Jerry Deland, as part of a generation coming to grips with the inevitable loss of power and privilege that they have long taken for granted. 'Nelsestuen evokes the midlife disappointments and anxieties of his characters with great subtly and empathy...' Kirkus Reviews

Rodney Nelsestuen has published more than a dozen works of fiction and nonfiction in a variety of literary journals along with two previous novels, 'Too Many Stones' and 'Quiet Desperation.' His writing has won and been honored in several literary contests. He's served as a judge in several writing contests including the Minnesota Book Awards, the Pacific Northwest Writers' Association, and the national Eric Hoffer Award. He has written professionally on financial services and technology. Rod holds an MFA from Hamline University in St. Paul, Minnesota and has previously taught at The Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis.

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Global integration and increasing universal diversity have reached Eagles Pond. "e;Neighbors"e; is a story of contemporary America and the continuous and often unseen changes occurring in the everyday makeup of society, both social and economic, and their impact on a once comfortable and trusted way of life. This story takes place in Eagles Pond, a fictional upper-middle class neighborhood in Minneapolis, where the complexion of the people and value systems are rapidly changing. These changes leave the middle-aged protagonists, Peter Jensen, Leroy Thompson, and Jerry Deland, as part of a generation coming to grips with the inevitable loss of power and privilege that they have long taken for granted. A part of their difficulty with change lies in the fragility of their own lives, careers, and relationships. "e;An affecting tragi-comic portrait of white suburban dissatisfaction..."e; Kirkus Reviews

Textauszug

Neighbors

Eagles Pond, Spring 2002

Peter leaned against the kitchen sink and watched the five women sipping wine around the food-laden island. He stared at the backsides facing him as two of the women bent over, elbows on the island’s polished stone top.

The fleshy outlines and arches held his gaze as he wondered, yet again, why it was that women grew with age while men’s buttocks atrophied until trousers hung straight down in back. The question had come to him shortly after Faith moved out.

A self-conscious tingle, a warning, really, began on the edges of his ears and rose into the thick pate of his graying hair. He could perseverate, right here, right on the apex where thought crossed over to emotion: to one side the curiosity of baser instincts and on the other, the reality of a failed marriage he had only half hoped to save. Or, he could wrest control from the edge of indecision and reengage with the neighbors. He forced himself to look up. Jerry and Leroy were standing in the sunroom just off the kitchen dining area. They were almost nose to nose, Leroy nearly twice as wide as Jerry and, as usual, they were interrupting each other. Jerry hitched his pants to one side in that familiar, odd manner. Both men spoke quietly which meant there was no immediate threat to the harmony Leroy’s wife, Charlene, sought in every party she hosted.

He looked at the group around the island again. Three of the women – Margaret, Lorraine and Patti – wore flowered summer dresses or wraps. Jennifer, Patti’s partner, was the tallest in the group and eclipsed even Charlene by almost an inch. She wore faded Capri jeans with a carefully positioned rip, too conspicuous to be an accident, beneath the back pocket at the very point Peter imagined a tan line would mark bikini summer afternoons by their pool. These two were the youngest women in the group and the two at whom he had stared. He found it hard to believe they were well over forty although from his vantage point more than a dozen years beyond, he could no longer judge the ages of those now more than a generation behind him.

Peter’s obsession with the female body was troubling. After Faith left, Leroy periodically offered him a tape from his collection of erotica. But Peter had avoided hard core videos fearing a slide into complete depravity. He’d concluded the slope was short and steep and, with his addictive traits, he should not be dancing along its ledge.

Still, since getting his termination notice a month ago, he’d ventured into the illicit online world as a form of distraction from the cataclysmic end of his career. He was always careful to use his own computer, clear the browser’s history and delete cookies from the machine. He’d also established standards of a sort: still photos, man and woman only, no more than half an hour at a time and never more than once a day. So far, so good.

He flushed, though, at the thought of the times he’d driven around the block and turned on the cul-de-sac in the adjoining subdivision that faced the back of Patti and Jennifer’s home. He’d park between two houses so he could see through the yards, across the lot where the women lounged in the brightest and smallest of bikinis, drinks in hand. All these imaginings and their secreted actions, when he stepped back from them, approached a line beyond which would make him into the type of creepy old man he’d looked down on most of his life.

Jennifer and Patti laughed easily, both of them. Jennifer laughed now, that sharp, sudden laugh that could frighten, too loud for the conversation in the group’s thickened wine stupor.

“And that’s what I do.” Charlene put both arms into the air. She flashed those flawless crowns, a shade whiter than reality, crowns that had a rumored fifty thousand dollar price tag. Charlene’s yellow hair was perfectly formed, big hair, sprayed to perfection. Even on those rare occasions when she worked in the yard, her hair never failed. Faith once joked that Charlene could take gale force winds and still look like she’d just stepped out of the beauty shop.

“Oh, Charlene. You do not,” Margaret said. She forced a laugh.

“Sure I do.” Charlene’s voice cracked with its familiar husky tremor. “I take off all my clothes and hold my arms in the air like a Y while Leroy undresses.” She laughed and fondled the large pearls on her necklace with the fire-red fingernails of one hand.

“Okay, okay, that’s too much information,” Margaret said. Margaret’s words seemed always trapped inside her mouth. No matter how forcefully she spoke, her speech barely escaped, the tone flat and muffled like a windless French horn. She was short and thin with a narrow nose framed by bowl-cut brown hair. Her lack of makeup made her vulnerable in Peter’s eyes, although tonight her eye lashes were darker and more defined than usual.

“Well, I want to know more,” Patti said. She put her arm around Jennifer. Patti had a stocky but attractive build, in some ways more attractive than the beauty queen proportions of her partner. She carried that compact, hard body with solid utility. Her hands were small but with long, slender fingers that belied her height. Even with the stocky frame, her face had the long distance leanness of a marathoner. She could run a marathon, Peter thought, simply because she was tough enough. The flowered dress seemed better suited to her partner.

“I think we’ve had too much to drink.” Margaret’s voice squeaked oddly.

“Get real, Margaret,” Lorraine said, “Don’t tell me that when Evan was alive you didn’t have your own, well, special way of doing it.” Margaret’s face flushed. She stood straight but kept her eyes down. Peter sensed her already slight build growing smaller.

After four years of struggle, Margaret’s husband, Evan, had died of colon cancer less than a year ago, before he turned fifty. She cared for him day and night during his last five months, quit her job and seemed as determined as he was to meet the end head-on, with both feet on the ground in defiance of what could not be avoided. Margaret was one of those gentle people whose resilience always surprised Peter no matter how long he’d know her.

“Now girls,” Charlene said, “We’re not all going to want to share everything.”

“It never bothers you,” Jennifer said.

“I’m just trying to give y’all some helpful advice.” Charlene’s faux southern accent was convincing, especially with that bright grin.

From across the kitchen island Peter studied Charlene’s dress, one he’d seen before – black, sleeveless and low cut, ending mid-calf. Narrow pleats gathered naturally at her waist then fanned out below her hips. The cocktail image seemed out of place among the colorful wraps and skirts, but long lines agreed with Charlene, made her look younger and taller than she was. Peter was at least an inch taller than she was, but in that dress she fairly loomed over him as she did over most men. Not quite six feet, Charlene was striking. Her cleavage heaved and moved with her body hinting at the force and animation with which he imagined she made love. She was a full two inches taller than Leroy, almost ten years younger as well. But it was hard to tell with the wrinkles around her mouth and the sockets growing dark beneath her eyes. Sometimes, when Leroy was drunk, he’d talk about her like a used car, “High miles, boys. High miles, but still runs like a top.”

Charlene blamed her wrinkles on the tanning salon. Still, she’d once said she was “damned if I’ll stop tanning. My natural skin has that yellow-sick, jaundiced tone, like I should be put under a bilirubin lamp.”

Peter had found her increasingly attractive over the past year. Besides that sensual side, she somehow managed to hold her marriage together, a fact he admired more each day since deciding the breakup with Faith had been a mistake. But he’d let her go, hadn’t he.

“How about us?” Jennifer asked.

“Well girl, if you know what you like, then you know what she likes.”

“How would you know?” Patti said. She cocked her head. “You have experience?” Peter couldn’t see Patti’s eyes but imagined those dark, penetrating beads gleaming from their sockets.

“Oh come on,” Charlene said, “all the paraphernalia’s the same and no, I don’t have experience. Well, not like that.” She laughed. “And I suggest we don’t go there since Peter is getting more education than the tuition he’s paying.”

The sound of his name dislodged his eyes from the exposed patch on Jennifer’s thigh. The women turned around. Jennifer may have winked. Peter smiled and looked at Charlene who stood with her thumbs hooked on her waist.

Peter raised his eyebrows. “Look, ladies, if you think I’m learning anything new here, you’ve sorely underestimated me,” he said.

“Whoa, Peter. Good answer,” Charlene said. “He’s probably right. There’s more to Peter than the strong, silent, cast-iron exterior he brings to parties.”

“So, how is your personal life, Peter?” Jennifer asked.

“Okay. It’s pretty good.”

Charlene leaned over the island, her cleavage swelling, and fixed a pointer finger on him. “Pretty good? No intrigue worth sharing?”

Peter smiled, held up open palms and wagged his head. “No,” he said, his lips accentuating the word.

“Well,” Charlene fluttered her eyes, “my binoculars confirm what he’s saying, girls. Peter’s...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 10.2.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-7729-5 / 9798350977295