Irvin went over at four-twenty.
I watched from the window. He was wearing his good khakis and a blue button-down shirt. No socks and sandals. I’d made him change.
Vanessa saw him come through the gate.
Her whole face lit up. She put down her wine glass and walked straight across the yard to him. She was wearing a red sundress. Short. Low-cut. Her hair was loose and curled.
She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. Too long. Way too long.
Irvin stood there with his arms at his sides. He didn’t hug her back. He patted her shoulder once, awkwardly, like you’d pat a dog you didn’t know very well.
Then he stepped back.
She took his arm. She led him around the yard, introducing him to people he’d lived next to for fourteen years. Holding his arm the whole time. Laughing at everything he said.
