Rose-Tinted Glasses

"Are you smoking again?"

"Can't a lady smoke outside?"

"Not when my window's open, you can't!"

"Then shut your damn window!"

"Not until you grow some manners! Don't you dare flick your cigarette at me! I cannot believe you!"

"You know me. Anyways, I got to fly. Bye, Meredith."

"Ta, Susan."

There it was again. The same argument between my mother and the neighbor. Always on loop, like a broken record. My mother starts it by swinging open the window every time Susan opens her’s. At first it was a coincidence. Mom would open the window for some fresh air and instead get the waft of smoke from Susan’s house. A screaming match would always ensue. 

Now when mom hears the click of the window latch, she bolts to her window without fail. Like Pavlov's dog. The two would argue for minutes, sometimes a half an hour, on inconsequential bullshit that could range from politics to dog breeds. You name it, they've fought over it. Sometimes they'll agree, and that ends in the most hilarious silence as they just kind of close their windows and go back to their lives.

And they never end on bad terms. There's always a goodbye, no matter how heated the argument. It's as if they are saying, 'Hey! No hard feelings, yeah?'

 Plus, this interaction has been fantastic for my mom. Moving out from Florida gave her a lot of fears of loneliness, especially after freshly divorcing my dad. 

But the first day we moved in, Susan had her music cranked up to Loud™. Mom just wasn't having it that day, and so she launched open the window and chucked a shoe across the way. It collided with Susan's window, causing her to look out and lock eyes with my mother. The silence was staggering. And thus began their first heated match.

You could compare their first few encounters to boxing. Jabs were made at my mom for her stingy attitude and unkempt hair; hooks at Susan, for her piercings and shaved head and overall nasty demeanor. Lately, it’s been more like a game of tennis. Witty retorts fire across the court like a tennis ball, back and forth. My mother is particularly good at tennis.

 My mom stormed out of the house that day and found her neighbors standing outside of Susan's home, asking her to turn down her music. My mother used this newfound opportunity to bond, and marched over, head held high. She introduced herself to the neighbors, who quickly embraced her as one of their own. Together, they argued with Susan until darkness overwhelmed the suburbs. 

Since then the two have been bound together by fate. Every day they glare at each other, exiting their cars. Every day they stand by their windows, waiting to get at each other's throats. And I, for one, am sick of it. So I've devised a plan. Tonight, I will send a letter from my mom to Susan, and one from Susan to mom. They will each contain pertinent information on their true feelings for each other. That is, that they truly are good friends who want to get tea sometime.

I sit in my room, twirling in my chair, thinking on how best to attack this. I would have to write how the other one thinks they talk. That part is a bit tricky, but you see, I'm good at tricks. And so I get to writing.

Dear Meredith,

I am out of my mind! Sick of this shitty shit! I want to hang out with you! We could have a smoke! Jk, I know you hate smoking. But yeah, it's damn time we got to know each other!

I sign like chicken scratch, Susan.

Next, I work on Mom's, which is infinitely easier because I live with her.

Dearest Susan,

I regret that I have been unkind to you in this passing month, as I have been under the stress of the move and caring for my child, Alex. Please consider my sincerest apologies, and if you would, meet me for a cup of tea?

Speak to you tomorrow,

I sign in cursive, Mary.

Next, I put them in envelopes of two different kinds, one pink and one purple, and wait. Nightfall approaches--when my mom leaves for work--and that is when I'll do the deed. But for now, I look blankly out my window, wondering if I would get caught. I imagine the scenario.

'Did you write this shitty letter?'

'No, did you write this disastrous letter?'

'No way in hell!'

I quickly shake off the continuing feeling of dread that this might not, actually, really work. But then I hear the door click open and shut, and I am springing off the chair, letters in hand. I run into the driveway, looking both ways for any sight of mom. Empty sidewalks, empty streets. I pump my fist in the air and then casually walk over to the mailbox. 

I shove the letter with the scrawled MEREDITH on it into the slot. Mission one, successful. Onto mission two. I bolt, fast as lightning, to Susan's house. I swing open the mail and go to throw it into the slot. Then I hear a "Hey!" 

Susan stands in her doorway, cigarette clutched deftly in her left hand. She steps forward, her heavy boots slamming into the cement, the grass, to me. She stops in front of me, arms crossed.

"Sorry, Ms. Susan." I mutter, keeping my eyes glued to the floor.

"She sending you to steal my mail now or what?" I shake my head, then get an idea. I hold out the letter. She looks down at it, eyebrows pulled downward. "What's this?"

"A letter. From my mom. She's super embarrassed about it so don't talk to her about it."

She lightly plucks the letter from my hand. Examines the cursive Susan, flips it over. Then she opens it in front of me. I feel my fingernails dig into my palm. Sweat beads on my forehead and I swipe it off. Susan's face is expressionless. Her eyes scan over certain words like a video on loop.

She folds up the letter. "Thanks." She says, in monotone. And then she heads inside. Susan is a mystery, for sure, but that was just downright confusing. She didn't react at all! What gives? I kick at a pebble in the road and head inside. Hopefully mom reacts in a different way.

She reacts in the exact same way. She folds up the paper and I watch her intently. She sighs, for a moment, before kissing me on the head and wishing me a goodnight. She goes to bed.

Did it work? I can't tell. I frown into the lamplight. Susan and mom are hiding what they think, and mom usually never hides what she thinks. She would tell me all the time her thoughts on Susan. It was always 'Susan this, Susan that!' 

'Susan keeps playing that racket!'

It's the same genres you like, mom.

'Susan is a liberal! A liberal!'

Mom, you're a Democrat.

'Susan's favorite genre is horror, can you believe that? The audacity!'

You love horror, what about Susan gets you so riled up? My mom is a weird woman, I'll say that now. And so, I decide to go to bed, and wait out tomorrow morning.

 I awaken to the same day as any other. "Susan, if you so much as think of smoking this morning, I will come over there!" I lean out my window, arms dangling over the windowsill, observing.

The window flies open from Susan's end, and she belts out, "Oh yeah? Don't even think about coming over here, 'cause if you do I might have to take you out!"

Mom gasped. "Is that a threat?"

“Hell yeah, watch out! Next thing you know you'll be on a dinner date with me!"

I blink. Mom blinks. "What?" Mom whispers.

"Did I read that right? I thought you were into me?"

Mom stutters out something, and then says quietly, "How could you know?"

"The letter?"

"Ah, yes." I think they’re mixing up each other’s letters. Thinking that the other actually wrote what I had. So it works! Except wait, what's going on?

"Listen," Susan leans on her windowsill. She smiles, lightly. "I think you're cute. I have since I first saw you. I was worried you hated me, but I loved the attention, so I kept riling you up."

I have never seen mom this flustered. She tugs at her hair, a blush spreading across her face. "I believe- I believe I've been doing the same."

Susan laughs and mom laughs with her, and the clouds dissolve to let the sun peek through and the day brightens. But seriously, was my mom getting hit on by Susan? And was she reciprocating?

Susan stops and looks my mom in the eye. They hold each other's gaze. "What do 'ya say to brunch tomorrow? I promise, no smoking."

"I'd like that a lot."

"Great! See you then." She blows mom a kiss, and mom almost faints right there. She closes the windows and flutters inside. I sit now on my bed, incredulous. 

I guess I got my mom a girlfriend.