19

It was the first time I noticed him being agitated.  His routine is so subtle, his motions so planned that this sudden departure from the norm was noticeable and I stopped to watch more closely. 

Because I notice him daily.  

In the mornings when I walk to the kitchen to make coffee I glance out the windows.  He’s usually up when I am.   When I go to the kitchen to get another cup, he’s often out sweeping or watering the flower boxes.  In the evenings when I arrive home from work he is usually in the kitchen, standing at the sink, or putting away dishes.  On occasion, he’ll be sitting at his outdoor table with a glass of wine.  

In the evening, his lights are out before mine.  

On the weekends I see him more often because I am home more hours in the day.  

In the late afternoon he comes outside to turn on the grill – a seemingly scheduled dinner time awaits.  He opens the lid, reaches down to turn on the gas, ignites the flame and ensures the grill is lit, closes the lid and then returns to the kitchen.  A few minutes later he returns to place items on the grill, closes the lid and then he’s back inside. 

This evening however he encountered the unexpected and his usual choreography was interrupted.  He knelt down to check the gas connection.  Then back up to look for the flame. Then down again – and back up, and then he hurried indoors.  Then, back outside again to remove the container of gas, shaking it, reattaching it, and trying again.  The tank of gas was empty.  His routined interrupted. 

I am watching this from the 19th floor.  He also lives on the 19th floor but in the building across the street.  Our balconies face one another and my living room faces his kitchen.  Both of us live lives behind glass but occasionally share outdoor space together.  We are separated by less than 150 feet horizontally but by 200 feet vertically. 

It was last spring when I first noticed him – when I moved in and onto the 19th floor.  And it is only during the summer months, of course, that we share the outdoor space.  Just as soon as the sun is high enough in the sky we move a portion of our lives out from behind glass. 

He is almost always shirtless when he is outdoors and even at the distance it is apparent that his body is in great physical condition.  The space between his pecs is noticeable.  So too his broad shoulders.  His hair is tightly trimmed – military in style, and a faint, perfectly groomed mustache is perched above his upper lip.  

On the afternoons when he’d sit with his glass of wine and read – something on his phone, I wondered what it might be that he’s reading.  I wanted to find a way to be there and sit with him even if we were to say nothing to one another.  His company – his presence being enough to sustain me for an afternoon.  Just an hour or so.  Maybe a bit longer and then I could go.  

Instead I sit on my balcony with my phone, reading but most likely listening to something because listening allows my eyes to be free and I can use them to imagine that I am sitting with him. 

His movements and routines had been consistent until late last summer when someone else moved in with him.  A taller, more slender man who is bald.  I’d seen them together in the distance at the beach earlier in the year.  Now, now that there is another man living with him, there have been subtle changes to the sequences, but the choreography remains similar.  

Both now sit at the small table, talking and enjoy wine.  When he is in the kitchen now, there is often a visible conversation taking place between the two of them.  Still, it is only he who handles the outdoor grilling – until the day that the gas tank was empty.  

It was just less than an hour after that that the taller, slender man arrived carrying a new tank.  He must have gone down to get the car, then driven to exchange tanks, and made his way back up.  Even the smallest of trips by car here take a long time, one – because of traffic, and two – because the building across the street has valet parking and extracting one’s car requires a preemptive call to the garage.  

It was early spring this year – a year after I’d moved in to the 19th floor that I saw both of them at the gym and after a year of nearly daily observation I was sure it was them.  I’d debated saying nothing but then changed my mind, remembering that fortune favors the bold.  

I approached him, excused my interruption, then asked if he lived at the address across the street.  He said he did.  In an attempt to make the introduction less intrusive I said that I’d planned to put planters on my balcony this summer, as his were so nice that I wanted to return the favor with a similar view.  We introduced ourselves by name.  

Up close he is more handsome than I had anticipated.  His physical presence is affirming  and magnetically attractive.  His eye contact ensures he hears you.  His softened smile makes you smile in return.  It is as if anything is possible in his presence, and I imagine that this is beneficial to him professionally. If I had to guess, he is a mix of Mexican and Japanese.  His skin is like satin and the color of coffee with too much milk.  His eyes, dark but almond shaped.  His mustache like that of a young Hirohito.  

On his way out, as both of them were leaving, he veered off course from the door to say good by, and saying to the taller, slender man, “this is my neighbor across the street”.  I thought it peculiar that he did not say ‘our neighbor’.  He then put his hand on my shoulder and thanked me for saying hello.  I felt honored by his touch.

The next week I saw him again at the gym.  “I wondered if I might see you here today,” he commented as he approached to shake my hand.  I nodded and acknowledged the taller, slender man with whom he lives but there were no further introductions or words exchanged between he and myself.  

The next morning my neighbor and I were both on our balconies.  I shouted his name to be heard above the sound of the traffic below – and waved.  He waved back.  

And then the following week at the gym – he was there alone this time.  I approached him as he was working triceps.  I suggested we exchange numbers.  That, as summer progresses, his balcony will become too hot facing west to enjoy his glass of wine, but mine, facing east, would be an ideal spot for a visit.  He agreed – and we exchanged numbers.   

Twice I’ve texted to invite him over for a glass of wine and twice he has declined.  He says he’s kept busy with work.

There had always been the thought that the taller, slender man was a room mate or someone living there temporarily.  And while the two of them are often animated when talking together in the kitchen …. come to think of it, I’ve never seen the taller, slender man there by himself.  I’ve never seen the taller, slender man living as though it were his home too.  They are most often together, like when a house guest is present and awaits the host to provide direction or purpose. 

Earlier this summer at the beach I’d emerged from the lake and was making my way back to my chair and the path back was right past my neighbor who was there at the beach as well sitting again, with the tall, slender man.  My neighbor stood to greet me – as though I were an expected guest, gave me a hug and made some relevant small talk.  The tall, slender man watched, said nothing, and was not introduced.  It was if he didn’t exist.  

I’d been curious as to never seeing any affection between the two of them.  It is not like I’m stalking them though it may seem otherwise.  It is just that of all the visible apartments across the street, the most activity is seen from these two.  

Though there is a couple on the 17th floor – elderly, one of them uses a walker.  They have every meal together at a table set right in front of their sliding doors. Like two regulars who have reserved the same table at the restaurant for years.  They sit facing one another, talking I assume – like any couple one might see while passing any number of restaurants in the city, except that their meals together cannot be seen by pedestrians on the street.  

At any rate, not long after our beach encounter I noticed that the tall, slender man has been seemingly away for a while.  It was a week, give or take, that I had not seen him in the kitchen.  The choreography of my neighbor remained the same during his absence.  Metered moves schedule by the clock.  Lights out by nine in the evening.  Up and at ‘em by five in the morning.  I have no idea what he does for a living, though I assume he works from home.  

But he doesn’t know these things about me either.   

Following the week or so absence by the taller, slender man and upon his return I did witness a display of affection.  While the taller, slender man was at the kitchen sink my neighbor came up from behind him and gave him a hug.  

It’s not that I necessarily wish to take his place.  Of course, yes, I wonder what it would be like to have someone put their arms around me like that.  To be pleased by my return home like that.  But mostly I’m curious.   

I’m curious as to who they are, really and how they came to be.  And how it is that the handsome, well built man across the street moves through his life with such seeming grace and efficiency.  Is it with the levers of control or a natural gift?  What has propelled him to this state in life? It seems I’m envious of whatever it is and my curiosity continues.