Through the Old Fence

Marlow froze. "No, no, no, no, no," she muttered, shaking her head.

"Marly? Did you hear what I said?" She didn't turn around. If her fiancé saw her face, he would know something was wrong.

"I don't feel so good, Thomas. I think I'm gonna go for a walk," Marlow said quickly. Thomas tried to grab her arm. "Alone," she clarified, still not looking at him. She fast-walked onto the street, heading toward the neighborhood park.

Thomas put his hands over his head in distress as he watched her turn the corner and leave his sight. What had he done wrong? All he had suggested was how lovely of a garden their side yard could become. Still confused, he went back inside the house to move some more boxes. It was always better when he gave Marlow time to cool down.

When she reached the grass park, Marlow finally slowed down. She ambled over to the nearest bench and sat down. She knew she was overreacting, but she also knew how much it physically pained her to be in that garden. She put her head in her hands and tried not to cry.

"Hello," came a voice from her right. Marlow nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned to see an elderly man in a plaid jacket smiling down at her. The surprise on her face etched itself into a deep smile.

"Hello. You scared me there," she greeted him.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was just wondering if you would mind if I sat down next to you."

"Of course not." She scooted down, so he could sit. She watched him as he looked out at the park. His posture and the way his mouth turned up ever so slightly made his current emotion obvious- it was contentedness.

"Now why would a bright young lady like you look like she needs to have a cry?" he implored, pulling her out of her thoughts for a moment. Marlow thought about how she should answer.

"Can I lay a heavy load on you?"

"Go for it."

Obliging, Marlow recapped the event in her new yard with Thomas. "I hate gardens. Well, I don't hate them. I love them. So badly it hurts," she told the man.

"Hate and love are closely related," he said wisely. She nodded. He gestured for her to go on. When she didn't, he furrowed his brow. "What's the original story of you and a garden? Maybe if you tell someone why you feel this way toward gardens, it'll be easier to explain to your fiancé."

Marlow contemplated his suggestion. Finally, she gave in. "Okay, I'll tell you. But"- she pointed at the man- "I'm not saying I'm gonna tell my fiancé." He nodded, and she took a deep breath in to prepare for a dive back into her past.

Marlow was in her childhood bedroom. She lifted herself out of bed and hurried to the window, taking in the scenery with a gasp. There was the Lehighs' house, tall and looming and so, so very blue. In the corner of the Lehighs' backyard, farthest from Marlow's house, she could just barely see the wooden fence that surrounded the garden.

Marlow looked over at her bench neighbor. "I'm sorry, we never introduced ourselves. I'm Marlow- I'm moving in on 117." She reached out her hand.

"I'm Thompson. Call me Thompson only. Nothing else." He took her hand and shook it firmly.

"Nice to meet you Thompson Only," Marlow joked. Thompson laughed.

"You say you moved to 117. Wood Avenue?" Marlow nodded. "I'm your next-door neighbor- 115." Marlow blanched.

"Well, Thompson, that's fitting. The story I'm telling you is about my next-door neighbor- not you, but the Lehighs." Marlow got a faraway look in her eye. "I'm sorry, this is going to be hard to tell. I feel like I'm really going back there inside my head." Thompson nodded.

"Well then, go with it. Walk yourself through your memories."

Marlow stepped out of her back door into the light. She squinted. It was always so nice back in Encinitas. They had spent every single day outside. Without fail. They, she thought. Her, her brother, and the Lehighs. It hurt, but this time she didn't run- she fought through the nostalgia.

She continued forward with her shoulders back and marched to the garden- her garden, she realized. It had never really belonged to the Lehighs. Looking down at all the green, smelling the freshness, it came upon Marlow the idea that by banning herself from gardening, she had deprived herself of something she really loved. She now knew that she had to get through this. She was getting married for heaven's sake. Starting a new life.

"My family was really close to the family that lived next to me growing up," she told Thompson. "In my house, it was my older brother, Luke, me, my mom, and my stepdad. In their house, it was Charlotte, two years older than me, Jesse, one year older than me, Rowan, my age, and Jeb, a year younger than me. And their dad, of course. Their mom died right before we moved next to them.

"Sean always hung out with Nicky and Luke, and I was best friends with Jeb." Marlow nearly choked on his name. Thompson picked up on it and raised an eyebrow.

"Jeb? Did he shit in your garden or something?" Thompson wondered. Marlow laughed.

"No." She wished that was all it was.

Marlow was back in the garden, but this time the garden looked the way it did after they had played the stupid game in the woods. The garden was trashed. It looked like an underground tornado had somehow been created and unleashed on Marlow's hard work. Surprisingly though, Marlow didn't feel like sobbing. A single tear flowed down her cheek. When it reached her lip and she tasted the saltiness, she blinked away any other tears threatening to fall. She didn't want to be bitter anymore.

She knew someone who knew her well had ruined what she had put hours into. But that didn't mean that that person had ruined her future creations. No, it dawned on Marlow, her future was still intact.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Thompson," Marlow broke out of her story.

"Thompson. It's just Thompson," he interrupted her. She shook her head.

"It's come full circle. My neighbor ruined my garden, and now you, my new neighbor, are fixing it." Marlow smiled, wider than she had in ten years. "Come with me."

Marlow led him back to her new house, to the edge, where her garden would be. She smiled again; she could not believe she was freely thinking of gardens again. When they reached it, she stopped and turned toward Thompson.

"There will be a fence right here," she declared, sweeping with her arm around the space for the garden. "A gate on this side-" she nodded her head toward the edge closest to her house, "and a gate on this side-" she nodded her head toward the opposite edge, closest to his house. "It will be ours."

Thompson looked down, shaking his head. "I suppose I can't decline."