Through her brief appearances in the back yard,Evelyn grew to know the woman;by her long strides to the refuse can where she would clatter the lid off,throw in her paper-wrapped bundle with an over-arm motion,clang the lid back;by her short,fierce tussle with a garment on the clothesline;by her soliloquy as she talked to herself,the words inaudible but the tone clear—sometimes a grumbling complaint and sometimes a violently fierce monolog.Evelyn grew to know her,she felt,quite well.And sometimes at night she would hear sounds from next door.Not very loud sounds;not conversation.Muffled sounds.You would have to use imagination to say they were sounds of anger,or perhaps of pain.And she had promised Ed not to let herself imagine things...
When the car had been sitting in the driveway for two days,she mentioned it to Ed.He lowered his paper.
"Oh?"he said politely."Is he sick?"
"Maybe he is.I haven't seen her,either."
"You'd better go over,hadn't you?Maybe they're both sick."
"No.I don't want to go over there."
He glanced at his paper,then at his wife."Why not?You've talked to her.It would be the kind thing to do."
Evelyn bent over her occupational therapy,the knitting on her lap."She might think I was snooping."
Aggravation and indulgence struggled in Ed's face.At last,he said mildly,"I don't think she'd think that."
"She's might."
Through one more day without backyard clangor,Evelyn listened and watched while the house next door slept.
On the next day the woman next door emerged to hang out her washing.She no longer moved with a controlled fury.She handled the pieces of wash,even the shirts,as if they were fabric,inanimate and impersonal—no longer as if she wrestled a hated opponent.
Stepping to the dividing fence,Evelyn rested her hands on the palings.She leaned over."I see your husband's car in the driveway..."she began.
The words seemed to filter slowly through the other woman's mind,to arrange themselves in her brain to make a sense which startled her.She looked at the car,then back at Evelyn.
"He took a trip."Her expression was suddenly veiled and withdrawn.She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue."He's gone off to a convention.It was too far to drive.He took the train and left the car for me."
"Oh,that's it,"Evie said politely."We were afraid he was sick."
"No,he's not sick.He's not sick at all."
Abruptly the woman backed away,spare-lipped mouth moving as if to utter further words of explanation that would reduce the unusual to the commonplace.Then she turned,stepped through her back door and locked it behind her.
"The man next door is out of town,"Evelyn told Ed that evening.
He smiled."So you went over,after all."
"No."
"Oh?You talked to her,though?"
"Yes.I talked to her."Evelyn bent over the knitting."She took the car and went away this afternoon."
Rustling the paper,Ed settled to read.
"She wasn't gone long.When she came back,she had two big dogs in the car with her."
He lowered the paper."She did?"
"Two big thin dogs,"described Evelyn."She tied them in the back yard using the clothesline to tie them to the clothes pole.She had a big wash this morning and after it dried,she went and got the dogs and tied them with the clothesline."
"Maybe she's scared while her husband's gone.And she got them for watchdogs."
"Maybe."
Now Evelyn felt ready to give up the nembutal she had used to get her to sleep all these months.Pushing the little bottle of sleeping tablets far back on the bedside table,she lay down.She thought of the woman next door,the dogs and the car in the driveway...the woman,the dogs and the car...
At last,she rose to pace through the darkened house.
Standing at the kitchen window,she looked out at the night to see a button of light cross the yard next door.Her eyes followed it.She heard a plop,a snarl and a growl—then the gulping,snuffling sound of hunger being satisfied.The light made an arc and moved backed to the house and was lost.
For a long time she stood at the window,then she went to her bedroom,took a nembutal and fell asleep...
"She doesn't like the dogs,"Evelyn told Ed several days later.
"She doesn't have to.They're watchdogs,not pets."
"She walks them every day.She unties their ropes from the clothes pole and goes off with them.When she comes back,she's tired and the dogs are tired.Then after dark she gives them a big dinner."
Evie thought of them,the slip-slap drag of the animals,their lolling tongues—the fatigued tread of the woman,her face drained of everything but lassitude.Of the way she re-tied them to the clothes pole,knotting,knotting and re-knotting the ropes while they lay,eyes closed,panting,satiated.
"What does she say about her husband?Seems to me that convention is lasting awfully long."
"She doesn't say anything.She just walks the dogs.Walks them and feeds them."
Ed laid down his paper."Evie,"he said,"Don't you talk with her any more?"
Holding the needles tightly,Evelyn looked at him."I don't see her to talk with her.She just walks the dogs.She doesn't hang anything on her line any more because she doesn't have any line.She doesn't seem to do anything in the yard except untie the dogs and tie them up again."
"Well,that's too bad.I wanted you to have some company.Maybe you could walk..."
"No!I don't want to walk with her or the dogs."Evelyn dropped the knitting on the chair as she left for bed...
Filled with torpor,the dogs were quiet now,lazy,growing fat as they ambled reluctantly at the end of their rope leashes,to crawl back and lie somnolent.
Evelyn was knitting quietly.The sweater was almost finished;the drab,uninteresting sweater with the bright little pattern of scarlet she had added."She took the dogs away in the car today,"she told Ed on Friday.
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