THE DIG

“Edwin Adams, whatever are you doing out here? It’s midnight. It’s near freezing. I had to wake up the cat and put my heavy winter socks on to come out here. What in the world? Have you gone mad? Why are you digging a large hole in the backyard?”

“What business is it of yours what I’m doing out here, at midnight, noon, or any other time of the day? Mind your own business, Sylvia Meisner. I don’t have to explain my every move to you. And watch it. That’s my jacket and my tools you’re about to step on.”

“Edwin, it’s pitch dark. Do you have insomnia? Why don’t you just read a book. Like any other normal human being?”

“There’s nothing not normal about me. I wish I could say the same about you! Maybe I’m out here planting tulip bulbs. Or, maybe I’m digging up a pot of gold left by the leprechauns after that rainbow earlier today. In either case, it’s none of your damn business. Go back to bed.”

“In Indiana? A pot of gold? Nonsense. And you can’t be planting tulips at this ungodly hour.”

“And what if I were doing either one? It wouldn't be the noise of planting flowers that woke you up. But in the case of the pot of gold, the thought of enriching yourself might do it. You’d definitely be here for that. Ka-ching. Sylvia, the supreme busybody.”

“Are you burying compost? No, that’s ridiculous. You have a composter in the kitchen, like all the other condos.

Are you burying evidence of a crime, Edwin? I wouldn't be surprised. It probably isn’t the first time. The way you come and go at odd hours. Very suspicious.”

“Very funny. I wouldn't be planting evidence of a murder in full view of a” nosey neighbor like you. If I were burying a body, I’d make sure you were fast asleep. Sylvia, please. Go back to bed.”

“‘It’s no use. I have insomnia. I can’t imagine why, since I have a clear conscience. Unlike you, I imagine.”

“ Look up there, Sylvia. It is a full moon tonight. Does that tell you anything?.”

“ What I saw when I looked out my window, expecting to see nothing out here in the dark was you with a shovel in your hands, digging this pit or whatever it is.”

“Whatever it is, is none of your business. And you’re blocking the moonlight. Move over.”

“I know, I have it! It must be your dog, Rufus. Did he die? Did you kill him? Are you digging a hole to bury poor Rufus? Oh my god, Edwin, I will call animal control and report you. First thing in the morning! I loved Rufus as though he was my own Welsh terrier. A man who digs holes at midnight in his own backyard doesn’t deserve a good dog like Rufus.”

“For godsakes, Sylvia, Rufus is fine . He’s in the house lying in the heated dog bed I bought him for Christmas. Why don’t you go and lie down in your own warm bed and leave me alone?”

“That looks like a pretty deep hole. Definitely deep enough for…..”

“A body? Is that what you were about to say? How about deep enough for a treasure chest? It’s big enough for that, too. Except I don’t have a treasure chest. Or a dead body. Or a dead dog. Move over. I’m dumping the dirt where you are standing.”

“It’s freezing out here. You are truly certifiable, Edwin. You have always been strange. I bet you murdered Rufus, by accident. That's why he’s not down here and not up in his bed like you said. For that matter, whatever happened to Angelina? Did she just up and leave, or maybe you murdered her, too?” And what is it you have down in that basement of yours besides canned goods and lawn equipment?”

“Whatever it is, it's none of your business. Maybe my crawlspace is crawling with zombies and dead colonels from the Civil War. And you are not welcome to come and look.”

“Well, tell me, what did happen to Angelina? If you're so innocent. Tell me where she is. She’s been away for a month or more, and I never even saw her leave the house.”

“Maybe she left to get away from neighbors like you with your prying eyes and your busybody mouth.”

“I think I’m going to report this hole of yours to the Condo board first thing in the morning. I’m sure a hole that size is against regulations. Especially if you just leave it like that. Especially if you didn’t get permission. “”

“Oh, that’s where you are wrong. I don’t plan to leave it like that, Sylvia. No, it will be filled … with something, just like nothing happened.”

“You know the board will listen to me, Edwin. I have been here for over 10 years. They listen to me. Like that time you tried to put up that ugly bamboo fence. Well, I stopped that, didn’t I? You had to pull it all down, post by post. I could have died laughing.

“And what about that raucous party of yours on New Year's? . Well, we can’t have disturbances like that in a respectable community like this, Edwin. I ended that event of yours in short order, didn’t I? “

“Yes, and wasn’t that so very neighborly of you, Sylvia! My sister and her family had come from Alaska to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary with us. He’s a veteran of two wars, and she is blind and often bedridden due to ALS. They were looking forward to a little celebration with Angelina and me. A family celebration that you stopped in its tracks with your litany of made-up lies about immigrants and noisy outsiders.”

“I was within my rights. I follow the rules. And speaking of family, you can bet those snot-nosed children of yours will not be traipsing through my petunia beds any time soon. I have a virtual restraining order out on those little vagrants straight from the board. Are they really your children anyway? They don’t look like either you or your estranged wife.”

“Thank god, you were too hateful to bring any children into the world. I think you’ve said enough, Sylvia. More than enough. When I think of spending the last 5 years as your neighbor.”

“You’ve put your shovel down. Edwin, are you finally through with this crazy person behavior?”

“No, I am just stopping to refuel my crazy person body with a little hot tea. Hand me the thermos. And to show how neighborly I can be even at this ungodly hour, I am going to offer you a cup as well. There's an extra cup there. An extra clean cup. I may be crazy, but I still have manners.”

“Well, a long as you and the hole are still here, and my teeth are practically chattering. I’ve waited here this long. I’ll take a drink.”

“You know, Sylvia, I’ll be straight with you. I am really out here in my coat sleeves in 40-degree temperatures because it is a full moon and according to the ancients, a full moon calls us confused, wretched humans to celebration–you know, renewal, a fresh start, out with the old and in with the new! Yes, that’s why I am here, Sylvia.

“Oh, is that herbal tea hitting the spot, Sylvia? You look unusually relaxed, almost, what’s the word? Drugged. The herb is called Foxglove. Funny because I don’t think any fox in its right mind would drink it. But it has given you such peace, you can’t speak. Sylvia??

“That’s right, don’t wait to be invited to the ritual, fall right in there. No need to say farewell. It looks like that hole was custom-made for you, Sylvia! Imagine a bespoke resting place right here in Boise. What do you think the board will say about our Moon ritual?

I say they will say nothing because by morning everything will be back to normal, smooth and grassy and presentable, the way you like it.

“You have nothing to say? You, Sylvia, the woman of so many opinions? You don't want to thank me for my planning this Full Moon Ritual and making you the star? No?

Oh, one more thing before we go our separate ways. Let me thank you, Sylvia. This is your shovel.

I won’t be needing it anymore. But then, neither will you!”