Marco and I were the second couple to buy one of the 20 condo houses in a what promised to be a lovely, pleasant section of a similar group now ten years old. We had met the couple who will be our next door neighbor in a few weeks and had liked them right away.
The furniture truck came thumping down our street. Marco greeted the driver as if he were the president of the United States. As soon as everything was inside, in the right rooms and approximate positions, Marco left me to fill the drawers, put the lamps where I wanted them to go, while he got his gardening tools that he had brought along in our car and went to work on the lawn which badly needed his green hand. He spread fertilizer and with tender loving hands planted rose bushes in the back yard and bougainvillea on the driveway poles.
Anything that is red he planted in the back. Red roses, lobella and hibiscus were almost ready to bloom. Geraniums, red of course, went along the front path. Coleus and red salvia, not very hardy but lovely, were set for the front of the house. He didn’t care too much about timing or soil, he just had to be surrounded by red.
Home Depot arrived. Three men unloaded the truck, stacking slabs of flagstone on an extra large dolly, bags of cement, buckets, trowels and piled it all in the back yard. As I looked out the window I saw Marco’s eyes light up like a thousand suns. He was so happy. His dream barbecue was going to become a reality and he alone would make it so.
I could tell at once when Marco came into the house before the Raven/Cowboy game was over that he didn’t feel well. Just a ‘hello’ and a wave is all I got and he went upstairs to lie down. I brought him his Pink Pepto Bismol that he takes too often, watched him make an ugly face as a tablespoon of it went down and then I left him alone to sleep it off. About 5:30 I heard him pussy-footing down the stairs and then heard his whining voice, ‘What’s for dinner, Angi?’ ‘Nothing yet, Marco. Go check the fridge and tell me what to give you.’ To do that he had to walk past the dining room window and that was when everything changed. He yelled loud enough for the devil to rise. ‘Angie come quick! Look out the window!’ ‘What do you want?’ I asked. ‘Just look.’ I looked and ran to the front door. How had I not heard what I saw? The T.V. was on loud and I was deep into Egypt on the Discovery channel, but still should have heard the police cars, the ambulance, the fire engine blocking the street between our house and the Mangionie’s directly across the way. Lights were flashing, police officers were running into Anita’s, medic’s hurried up the front path carrying a stretcher between them, skipped steps and disappeared inside. Neighbors, strangers, were being pushed back, away from the yellow tapes stuck to the front railings and sapling trees near the gutter.
Being more than a neighbor, I was a very good friend, wasn’t stopped by the flashing lights and walked with great determination up the path almost to the front door. A police captain, his white hate, bright in the fire engine headlights, took my arm and led me back. Anita saw him and told him to let me go. She was the one who had instantly called 911. The police pleaded with her to come outside but she would not leave Joe, even though she knew he was dead. The crowd wasn’t yet sure of what had happened.
Anita had already called the funeral parlor, her attorney, but was stopped before she could cover Joe with a sheet. The officer was polite and spoke softly. ‘Please don’t move anything, touch anything. We have to take pictures, measure. Leave any medications where they are., Please, Mrs. Mangionies come outside with me.’
Anita stayed where she was in the turmoil even though she was frightened and had asked me to stay with her in the kitchen. I didn’t want to go as I had to pass uncovered Joe, but took strength from my friend and was surprised that there was very little blood. The room was nothing like LA Law. I saw no blood splatter, no gruesome, twisted body. The officer had a medic check Anita. Her blood pressure was 210 over 111 , which was dangerous. He wanted to send her to the hospital but she could not be coaxed.
The squad cars, ambulance, everything began to clear out once the Medical Examiner had Joe’s body removed. Anita did not want me to stay with her while she called her grown children, aunts, uncles. ‘Go,’ she said. ‘I’ll be okay.’ Of course, I was reluctant but forced myself to go home, thru the remaining curious and caring neighbors. My answers were simple. ‘Joe killed himself. He had been depressed for some time and was under a doctor’s care. Anita is taking care everything herself and thanks you for your concern.’
Mario was holding the front door open for me when he finally saw me coming. His warm, comfortable hands smoothed my back. Hot coffee and buns were waiting for me on the kitchen table. We sat and talk, mourned in our own way and went to bed.
I lay there and tossed and turned believing I would never sleep again. ‘Mario, how do you feel? Are you okay now?’ I mumbled. My eyes were heavy from crying with Anita and closed quickly. The morning light woke me. Mario was already downstairs.
‘Mario, are you sure you are okay?’ I asked and could not help myself but suggest to him, ‘Mario, please add some yellow tulips, blue hydrangeas to our garden. We don’t want Anita to see red when she looks out her window.’
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