The Expansion of the Universe

Five | "A bit of a Nosy Nancy."

The stranger's name was Elijah Harris.

He came by in spurts, but he always told Liza when he would return. "Can't make it for the next two days," he had told her once, "but I'll talk to you when I get back, okay?"

When he did stop by, he did so at exactly one o-clock. She'd never asked why, but he'd offered an explanation anyway: "It's perfect, because I'll have already eaten lunch and won't need a snack until at least three."

He did sometimes bring snacks with him; he'd told her that beef jerky and Oreos were his favorite.

It had been two weeks since she'd told him she was listening, and, thus far, that was all she'd been doing.

Sure, she'd make humming noises every now and then to let him know she wasn't "dead back there, window-girl?" But she hadn't truly spoken to him since the moment she'd admitted that he'd caught her attention, meaning he knew nothing about her, including her name.

Meanwhile, Liza knew quite a bit about her new neighbor.

Self-described, he was six-foot-two (when he'd told her, she'd immediately decided that this claimed height was a lie when compared to what she remembered when she'd seen him through the window), "super-ripped and handsome," and in possession of brown eyes and matching hair.

He didn't have any pets or family nearby but had chosen the condo because he was sick of living in an apartment inside the city and wanted the peace and quiet of a more rural location while still having the security of a neighborhood. She didn't know about his chosen occupation, but she knew he had an older brother, father, and stepmother he fondly called "Mom."

He also seemed to think that he and Liza were friends.

"I'm glad I moved in next to someone who's willing to put up with my ranting," he'd told her on the fourth day he visited. "My work-buddy always tells me I talk too much. I guess we make quite a friendship, don't we?" He'd laughed then, and her toes had curled at the deep, happy sound.

She hadn't heard laughter like that—real, true laughter—in so long she'd nearly forgotten what it sounded like.

"I don't even know your name, and you're getting to know everything about me. Ah, well, I'm trusting you, remember? You'd better not be posting all my dirty secrets on your Facebook page."

She hadn't told him that she didn't possess Facebook, nor had she mentioned that none of what he'd told her seemed all that dirty or secret.

Liza was pulled by her memories by the now-familiar knocking on the door. He still knocked three times, but he only did it once rather than repeating the pattern again. "Hey, window-girl," there was a light thudding as he settled against the door.

She wasn't sure, but—when she thought about it—she imagined that he settled with his back to the door, looking out over the scant scenery offered by the bushes and skinny trees that decorated the lawns and lined the street. He probably kept his beef jerky in a bag beside him, and she often thought he dropped his head against the door as well, since she sometimes heard an additional, smaller thud.

Liza scuttled off the couch, dropping down a foot from the door with her knees tucked under her, Milo sitting sentry beside her. He licked at her face, as if to check if she was doing alright, and she stroked her fingers over his snout in a show of thanks for his continued thoughtfulness.

Twisting to the dark oak of the door, she eyed it expectantly, waiting to hear what he would say next.

It was rather surreal, to think that she had been so terrified of Elijah Harris now that she was getting to know him better.