“Try not to get distracted,” Ann tells Jody. “Think of this as good practice for when you’re giving a recital. You can’t control the noise the audience makes. Talking. Coughing. Sneezing. You have to concentrate on what you’re doing, not the noises around you. You should be able to play even if the sky is falling.”
Jody positions her hands again, ready to begin. Another sound interrupts her—this time it’s a soft knock at the front door.
“Your mom’s here,” Ann says.
When Ann opens the door, Jody’s mom, Jennifer, gives Ann a hug. They visit for a few minutes on the front porch, catching up. When Jennifer was Jody’s age, Ann used to babysit her and give her piano lessons. The two have kept in touch on and off ever since. So when Jody expressed interest in learning to play the piano, Jennifer knew just who to call.
“Sometimes when I’m sitting next to Jody at the piano,” Ann says, “I get this feeling of déjà vu, like I’ve gone back in time and it’s you sitting next to me at the piano.”
Jennifer laughs. As they talk, more banging comes from inside the house next door.
Jennifer comments on the growing garbage pile in Roy’s front yard.
“I know,” Ann says, shaking her head in embarrassment. “At least he’s working.”
Roy has been there erratically since being kicked off the neighborhood association board a month ago. Ann had worried that he might retaliate by refusing to work, but the opposite was true, at least for a while. At first he tackled the work with what seemed like renewed vigor. But, as always, Ann has trouble seeing any real progress. It’s unclear exactly what he is doing. More garbage bags have appeared in the front yard, while building supplies are now occupying Roy’s side of the porch. There’s a stack of two-by-fours and a box of drywall nails. There is also a single bundle of shingles. Ann has no idea what he plans to do with them—the whole roof needs to be reshingled. One bundle won’t do much good. Her roofer confirmed as much when he came to check her roof. He said Roy’s place must be leaking like a sieve, and he even took some photographs for Ann while he was up there.
The weather has been cold in Pittsburgh for the past month, but today has been unseasonably warm—one last Indian summer day before winter really sets in. But the warmer weather has also revealed a new problem: an odor emanating from the garbage in Roy’s front yard.
Ann wants to move the conversation into the house, but Jennifer says she and Jody need to run. As they turn toward the street, the nine-year-old shrieks, “Look, Mom!”
Ann follows Jody’s finger and also finds herself gasping.
They all watch as a rat—its black fur wet and scruffy—crawls out of a hole in one of the garbage bags. It pushes between two other bags and its pink tail disappears out of sight.
“Ann,” Jennifer says, facing her old babysitter, “this is disgusting. I’m sorry, but I can’t bring Jody back here until that place is cleaned up.”
Ann is speechless, still in shock herself. She feels like she suddenly needs a shower.
Where there’s one rat, there have to be more.
And these rats could get into her house!
As Jennifer and Jody drive away, Ann stomps over to Roy’s front door and begins pounding as hard as she can.
“Get out here, Roy! Right now!”
CHAPTER 15
ROY OPENS THE DOOR a crack and sneers, “What do you want?”
He looks terrible—his eyes are bloodshot, his hair is growing long and needs to be brushed, and it looks like he hasn’t shaved in a couple weeks. He doesn’t step out, and the door isn’t open far enough for Ann to look inside. All she can see behind him is darkness. There’s no sign of the extension cord, and it doesn’t appear that the electricity is working, either.
How can you work in the dark? Ann thinks.
She points to the trash heap in his yard and says, “There are rats. You have to get this garbage out of here.”
Roy smirks, annoyed. He steps out of the house and closes the door behind him. Close up, Ann can see that his hands are filthy, and an unpleasant odor emanates from his body, as if he’s gone as long without a shower as he has without a shave.
He steps around his two-by-four pile and looks at the yard.
“Are you sure?” he says. “Maybe it was a stray cat.”
“I know the difference between a rat and a cat, Roy!”
Roy turns on her, his eyes flaring with anger.
“Take it easy, Ann. You’re always getting so mad about everything.”
“Take it easy?” she repeats, dumbfounded.
“Relax,” he says. “And mind your own business.”
Ann’s blood is boiling.
“This is my business, Roy,” she says, her voice shaking. “You still haven’t fixed the roof. Every time it rains, the water leaks over into my house. I just lost a piano client today because she doesn’t want to bring her daughter to a house next to a scrapyard crawling with rats.”
“You’re overreacting,” Roy says, going back inside. “Let’s agree to just leave each other alone. I won’t bother you if you won’t bother me.”
With that, he slams his door shut. He throws the deadbolt loudly.
Ann can’t believe it. She is shaking.
She stews over his words. I won’t bother you if you won’t bother me. She’s a good neighbor—she’s never given him any reason to bother her!
Ann storms into her house, slamming her own door.
“I’ve had it,” she says out loud, virtually in tears.
She goes to the phone book, flips to the section with the numbers for city officials, and places the call.
“Hello,” she says into the receiver. “I’d like to talk to the city housing inspector.”
CHAPTER 16
ROY’S FIANCÉE, REBECCA PORTMAN, knocks on his front door. She takes a moment to look behind her at the rain just beginning to fall. When there’s no answer, she knocks harder. Finally, Roy comes to the door, looking surprised to see her, then his expression quickly turns to a dawning realization.
“Hey,” he says. “Sorry. I totally forgot you were coming over.”
He opens the door, and she is greeted by the familiar smell of wood chips. But there’s another odor, too, an unpleasant one. As she walks through the front hallway, she quickly figures out what it is. Although Roy is ordinarily really good about cleaning the animal cages, keeping the feces buildup to a minimum, now the cages are full of droppings. The mice and hamsters are crawling around in their own waste.
The rest of the house is messier than usual, too. Roy is ordinarily fastidious about keeping everything in its proper place, but tonight she sees shoes and clothes lying around the living room, along with a handful of balled-up fast-food wrappers on the coffee table and a couple issues of Playboy lying on the floor. She’s surprised to see them out; she knows Roy owns some adult magazines, but he usually keeps them hidden when she’s around.
“Are you okay, Roy?” Rebecca asks, genuinely concerned.
In a moment of vulnerability, Roy once told her that he’d spent time in a psychiatric hospital as a teenager for being what he simply called “obsessive-compulsive.” He said he’d been fine since then, and she’d never noticed any problems or had any complaints—besides, of course, all the animals.