the window pulling back the curtains and peering at me. I couldn’t get a good enough look at him to see his face clearly. I wondered if he was as anxious about meeting me as I was him. I asked myself who was going to be the brave one and go first. I saw him looking out the window again. I leaned my head back against the seat and breathed heavily out loud. I knew it was going to have to be me. I would have to dive right in and be the courageous one. Somehow it made me feel better knowing that he was just as scared as I was. I just needed to muster enough courage to get out of the car.
I don’t know where I got the strength but I finally got out of the car and walked toward his front door. A yellow lab I had not noticed before ran anxiously toward me, wagging its tail. It jumped up on me, nearly knocking me over by its size and force. “You’re friendly aren’t you,” I said to it. The dog stood back on all fours and continued wagging its tail. I patted its head and smiled at it. It followed me as I walked slowly toward the door. My heart beat rapidly.
He didn’t wait for me to knock on the door instead he opened it and quietly smiled at me. “Jack, sit,” he ordered. The yellow lab happily complied and sat down on the porch, his tail still subtly wagging. “Hello,” he said, his voice deep, his accent thick. His hair was red, the same shade as mine. His face showed signs of age, a little worn with wrinkles. His skin was almost leathery and full of freckles. He was tall and thin, but still handsome. He fidgeted and moved toward me, awkwardly, unsure of what he should do. He looked as perplexed as I felt.
“Hi,” I paused. “I’m Finn,” I said extending my hand and then instantly retracted it, feeling strange for even offering it to him. I questioned what I should do. It didn’t feel right to hug him and shaking hands with him wasn’t right either. I settled on doing nothing instead saying the first thing that came to mind. “Your yard is beautiful,” I said trying to break the tension. His eyes instantly lit up, his posture more relaxed.
“Thank you. Do you like to garden?” He asked interested. He stood inside his house while I stood outside on his front porch, still uninvited to come inside.
“Not a lot. Grandpa has tried to get me into it.” I smiled instantly thinking of the first time I worked in the yard with him. It felt like a million years ago.
He looked at me curiously and attempted to smile. “Do you want to come in?” He gestured toward the inside.
“Sure,” I said. I followed him, Jack trailing behind me. Stacks and stacks of books filled the room. He sat down in an old leather recliner. I sat on an old floral couch across from him. Jack sat in a corner and closed his eyes. I looked around the room noticing there was no television set. The walls were full of vibrant, colorful paintings that I assumed were his. They were similar to the painting that hung on the wall in his old bedroom. The coffee table was covered in books. The room smelled earthy, musty, like a forest. We sat quietly, staring at each other. He tapped his hand on the chair, in near perfect rhythm, creating an imaginary song or playing an old familiar tune, I am not sure. I began to bite on my nails but stopped myself once I became conscious of what I was doing.
“I read a lot, too,” I said gesturing to his books. His face formed an excited expression.
“What do you like to read?” he asked eagerly, interested.
I shrugged. “Everything,” I said.
“Me, too,” he replied.
“Do you get lonely being out here all by yourself?” I asked. I knew I would if I lived there. It was remote and isolated.
He frowned pondering my question. “Not really. I like the solitude. I go into town from time to time and your grandparents visit me every week. Mostly though, I prefer to be here by myself reading and gardening,” he said. He scratched his head and attempted to smile at me. “Do you like to be alone?” he asked.
“Sometimes,” I confessed. “Not lately, though.” His forehead wrinkled, he stared at me confused.