Sunday, September 12, 2010

Mystery on Allen Street

A nice young family lives next door to us. They moved in a year after I did and last year, moved to the upstairs part of their house and rented out the first floor. When they moved in I would smile and say hi, but they really, really kept to themselves. Sometimes they'd nod, other times, no response at all. That isn't all together out of the ordinary in New England. We aren't exactly open and friendly folks all the time, so I didn't think much of it. But maybe I should have.

You see, when they moved in, they had two boys and now they only have one. I'm not kidding. The older boy is no longer there. The younger one is now about 2 and I see him get into the car to go to daycare with his mom in the mornings. The older one was maybe 4 or 5 when they moved in and he's gone. His bike used to lean against the side of the house, next to his dad's which was outfitted with a seat for the infant to ride in. Now, no little person bike, no running around in our driveway. Nothing. I'm not sure how long it has been since I last saw the older boy, but I hadn't really thought about it until this summer when E and I would be out and I'd see the mom out too, but she was always with just the younger boy.

Over the years we've become a bit more friendly and will say hello and chat briefly when we see each other outside. They had a yard sale earlier this summer and the mom came over to tell me the day before and said that she'd set aside some toys she thought would be good for Ella. I went over in the morning and got a bunch of great stuff. We were talking about kids, daycare etc. I commented that I couldn't imagine doing it with two. She just sort of looked at me blankly. I quickly moved on, but it made me realize there really isn't another kid living with them who would now be about 7 years old.

Um, where did the kid go? I can see two options. He was either a product of an earlier marriage and lives with the other parent (the husband has a foreign accent, so maybe the kid is on another continent?) or something awful happened and he died. I would think the neighborhood gossip would have gotten that one around, but who knows. Most of the talk around here centers on the geniuses who miss the one way sign at the end of our road and get yelled at by the old lady across the street who site out on her porch as they drive by (as though they can hear her inside their car).

There is no polite way to ask a question that would get the answer, so I quietly hypothesize and keep my eyes peeled for his bike to return. Now that I wrote this, I totally feel like Harriet the Spy. Or my mother, I'm not sure which.

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