With a grunt, Zen shoved the last piece of sitting room furniture back into place. He'd restored order to ground zero of the party, which made him feel a little better about the fiasco he'd inflicted on the others. There was still more cleaning to be done, once he'd gotten the necessary chemicals, but it was a solid start.
His mind turned again to the image of a police car flickering outside, a cop herding half-drunk college students out of his house, and a quick glimpse of the angry eyes of the old man next door. He sighed again. Physical cleanup was looking good. Time for a little relational cleanup.
"I'll be back in a bit," he told Alex, who had emerged for a snack.
"No problem. I'm headed out to clean another garage pretty soon. Hey," Alex paused what he was doing, caught Zen's eye. "You're on the right track. I know the party went south this time, but we'll get it figured out. You're doing a good thing here."
"Thanks."
Zen threw on a jacket and shoes and walked next door, the cop's warning ringing through his mind.
Your neighbor's got it in for you. Don't give him any excuses.
Fine. Time to undo some damage.
He walked up the steps onto the old man's porch and rang the doorbell. Sometimes it's best not to give your nerves a chance to catch up.
Nothing happened. Zen waited a long minute, then rang the doorbell again. The first time he hadn't been sure it actually rang. This time he heard a deep tone somewhere in the guts of the house. But still nothing happened. Now doubts began creeping into Zen's mind, congregating in the wide open silence. Maybe the old man wasn't home. But Zen had never seen him go anywhere. Maybe he hadn't heard the bell.
Zen rang it again.
Maybe the man didn't want to be disturbed. In fact, that seemed likely, given every interaction Zen had ever had or heard about with him. Which raised an interesting question. What does neighborliness look like with a neighbor who wants nothing to do with you? Zen's optimistic side ran through a quick montage of persistence, doorbells, muffins, maybe rescuing a lost cat, and finally the breakthrough, with the old man giving him a slightly teary hug, or at least sharing a collegial game of chess.
Bolstered by this happy storyline, he rang the bell again just as he realized that the montage was, technically, entirely in his mind. And not entirely realistic at that. He swallowed nervously, remembering the man's angry, bushy eyebrows. And the flicker of police lights. It occurred to Zen to wonder whether standing on someone's porch counted as trespassing.
Perhaps the most neighborly thing to do would be to come back another day.
Yes. That was it. He would come back another day. Maybe lots of other days. Maybe not. It was hard to say what the future held. But not today. He turned and crept off the porch.
The door opened.
"Hey!" snapped an angry voice behind him. He turned to see a pair of ice-blue eyes peering out at him from the shadowy interior of the house. "What's the big idea? You go to all that trouble to get me up and then just run off laughing?"
"I'm so sorry," Zen said, mortified, turning to rest one foot awkwardly on the porch steps. "I didn't know you were sleeping."
"I wasn't sleeping. I was working." The old man tossed his head back sardonically. "Oh, little old man, must have been taking his nap."
"What were you working on?" Zen asked, sensing an opening.
The old man paused. His head peeked a little further out of the door.
"Do—do you really want to know?"
Zen nodded reassuringly.
"Gee, I—I'm not sure," faltered the old man. "The last time someone showed an interest was so long ago, and it all ended so badly. I—I suppose I can be difficult. You're not going to give up on me?"
There was something almost plaintive in the questions.
"No," said Zen, taking an involuntary step up the porch stairs. "Of course not."
"Oh, good." The man nodded to himself, then looked back up. "It's just that I'm not used to people after all this time. And I get so lonely. And angry. And—and befuddled." He hung his head. "I'm just a pathetic old man, all alone in the world."
"You're not pathetic," said Zen.
"No?"
"No!"
"Of course I'm not pathetic!" roared the old man, suddenly livid. "Look at you! You think I'm just some old coot sitting around getting ready to die? Getting yourself all geared up to be my friend no matter what it takes? Well, I've got news for you." He jabbed a finger at Zen. "I'm a human being. I'm more complicated than you're ever likely to find out. I'm intelligent and articulate and I'd be damn good company except the only people who ever come around are nuisances who think they're doing me some kind of favor pretending they can stand being around me! So excuse me if I prefer to keep my own company. Get on home and find some other project to help you feel good about yourself. If you want to be friendly, try keeping the noise down and kicking the drunks out. Now get out of here!"
The door slammed, leaving Zen alone in the cold.