The World Outside

Looking through the tiny holes of the screen door, I see Doc. S - standing proud on the balcony of his green house just across the street.

"I wonder what he's thinking," Janie says, whispering behind my ear.

"Seriously contemplating about buying Jay's house maybe? Or the one next to his." A cute giggle can at times be therapeutic.

*****

Doc. S and his wife have six kids. We don't know them much. Except that his wife, who's an internist, belonged to a team of specialists who carried out my surgery last year. She's a friendly doctor. And a bubbly one, too.

"So you're on the lookout for a house to move into?" She asks.

"Yep. Do you know any, Doc?"

"Well, I have a house near my house. It's vacant. You can have it checked if you want."

*****

We moved in here the second week of January this year.

"Knock on the gate harder so they'll hear...I tell Janie.

" What's a big house without a doorbell?" She smirks, looking tired and annoyed. Not by me, I hope. We woke up early for this memorable day - when we get to finally leave Robertsville, our former landlady, and noisy neighbors behind.

After almost an hour of banging on the imposing gate, a half-awake man in pajamas opens the wicket door slightly, and hands out a bunch of keys. Then closes the door behind him. Neither a word nor a smile.

"Uh oh...looks like he just got up from the wrong side of the bed," I tell Janie.

"Yeah. Who is he, Mom? Mrs. Doc's driver?"

"Don't know... but you could've saved us from all this trouble if only..."

"Mom, I know. I should've taken the keys from Mrs. Doc yesterday. Errr."

That's the first time we saw Doc. S. He's a surgeon and a car enthusiast. A man of few words and in a strange way, daunting. He owns this (our) house and the one next to it. They're twin bungalow houses he and Mrs. Doc acquired from a Chinese trader a few years back.

*****

A gay "teacher" rents the white-painted house on our right side of the fence. So far he's the second tenant since we got here. He has a stay-in helper who goes on a day off once a week. We're not even sure if he's indeed a teacher. Janie and I just surmise he is, based on what we hear - behind the tall, concrete fence. He talks loud when working online. When he's not, he's either playing old songs on Youtube or watching movies. When he's silent, he's probably wearing his oxygen mask. Some people have been delivering oxygen tanks to the white house since he and his maid moved in.

*****

The house on the left has only one human occupant. His name is Jay. But he's not a tenant. His family owns the house. He breeds bulldogs and sells them. His wife and kids are currently in the US. (That's also according to what we hear. Chuckles). For whatever reason, he goes out of his front door when talking to them over the phone. His voice is akin to that of a disc jockey, that anything he says can be heard from afar. Unlike the tenants in the white house, I see him almost every day. Doing his runs in the morning.

*****

This one - we're on a lease agreement with Mrs. Doc for two years. Beyond that, I tell Janie, we'll cross the bridge when we get there. It's the fourth bungalow from the main entrance of the village. Its gate is painted blue. So we call it the blue house. My younger sister Toni moved in with us last week of January. She now works as a virtual assistant. While Janie and I work on the graveyard shift. We are online workers. Just like the teacher in the white house. "Our" blue home, the white house, and Jay's house are all on the same side of the street.

*****

The doctors' residence is on the other side, right across. Too near that you could see who's on the balcony. The expanse of the entire property is impressive, to say the least. The main gate and parts of it are painted green. Hence, the moniker "green house."

There's a garden in front of the yard that has different flowering shrubs, herbs, and concrete sculptures of elves and swans in it. And trees on almost all sides and corners. Toni opines that those have been planted with the intent of concealing what's inside. There are six luxury vehicles in the carport of their residence.

"I also have one in Northern Hills," Mrs. Doc says. "It's a three-bedroom townhouse, much bigger and wider than this. You can move in there just in case you want a bigger space."

"Oh, we're good, Doc," I tell her.

*****

Janie and I like it here. It's a fairly peaceful neighborhood. Not too many stray dogs. No little kids playing outside. No teens strolling by with their eyes on their phones instead of on the road. And most importantly, no drunks waddling on the pavement, singing out-of-tune songs. To be honest, they scare me.

*****

"Our" humble blue home is only a kitten compared to Mrs. Doc's tiger of a house. It has only two bedrooms, a veranda, and a small space in the right front yard where a huge mango tree stands near the concrete fence. Toni put a bench out there where it's nice to sit back and relax after a day's work. She likes taking her cup of coffee out there while savoring her "me time." Janie on the other hand loves to eat her munchies on the bench while chatting with her friends.

*****

I love the sound of rain falling on the tin roof, and that earthy smell when it touches the ground. But so far it hasn't rained yet.

"It's called petrichor, Clarisse," Toni says. "That soil-like smell."

"Oh, okay…" She's always the smarter one. Time to concede.

*****

Mr. Mango Tree never fails to share with us his fruits, which I swear are the sweetest I ever tasted in a long time. He's very generous. His thick, green foliage covers most of the right front yard, lending us his shade. He's truly a sight to behold. Everything has a reason for being. And Mr. Mango Tree is living up to his.

*****

Doc. S forbids anyone from climbing up the tree. We didn't know that. Until a teenage boy asked Toni if he could climb up and pick some mangoes. Doc. S came in a flash and sternly admonished the boy to go down.

"Who permitted you to climb up that tree? Is that yours?" And retreats.

"Is it deja vu in French?" I ask.

"No, Mom. It's like a slap in the face," Janie says.

"That's conduct unbecoming of a doctor," Toni mutters under her breath.

*****

I feel sorry for Mr. Mango Tree. He's such a blessing to many. Not just to us and our immediate neighbors. How dare anyone treats him so unkindly - strips him of his life's purpose. Without which, what does it make him - a candidate for lumber? Even that has worth. For some time he has stopped bearing fruits. Perhaps sulking over his owner's decision to keep anyone from getting close to him. So from "Mr. Doc" to Doc. S - "s" for his selfishness. Janie, she has a penchant for monikers.

I reckon those who have more in life have less to think about. And therefore, can give much more than we do. He has just proved me wrong.

"How unbelievably greedy. And he's a doctor? I never liked him. Remember when I was knocking on their gate? He's such a grouch." Janie says. Then adds, I wonder if he'll get richer by keeping all the mangoes to himself!"

"Chill out, girl. Wrinkles don't look good on you."

*****

"When it rains, it pours." Whoever said that might've seen a day like this.

"Is there a typhoon? Janie asks.

"Nope, no news on tv about any. Maybe it's a wind storm."

The branches are shaking in utter discord. The leaves are rustling down on the pavement like poorly choreographed dancers. The sky this morning looked serene in blue. Now it's gray and gloomy, with sparks of lightning and thunder here and there. Janie runs inside, closes the windows and doors, and grabs a lighter and a couple of candles.

"Scared? Don't be. You're a big girl now," I tell her, just to allay her fears.

"Mom, it has nothing to do with age… "

Then there's the rain. Hostile and intense. Janie sits beside me and holds my hand. With her hand on mine, I feel no fear. I feel safe, taken care of. I'm not demonstrative of my feelings. But I love her more than I can ever say. She's the daughter I never thought I'd be lucky enough to be blessed with. I hope she knows that. I hope I can make her feel that.

And we watch the first rainfall behind the screen door. Heavy downpour rising into a crescendo and then, subsiding steadily, almost quietly - quenching the thirst of all living creatures outside. And alleviating Janie's fear of thunder and lightning.

And the once fierce rain comes to rest. Just like that. Janie pushes the screen door wide open. The roof and the trees are dripping wet. And yet, there's beauty in the aftermath. Mr. Mango Tree is done with his brooding. His leaves are glistening in green. And he seems to be smiling down on us. On the ground is a plethora of scattered leaves and mangoes that glow like chunks of peridots. The fruits Doc. S wants to keep for himself, Mr. Mango Tree has defiantly jiggled off from his owner's invisible shackles. And yes, he's free at last.

I would have run out of the house in glee. Like Janie - who's now jumping and spinning around in childlike exhilaration. Basking in that glorious moment.

Except that I can't.

As I turn the wheelchair around, I see no Doc. S on that balcony. What a show he missed.

*****