Chapter 3

So I left Sarah and Molly's place and retreated to the messy apartment I'd neglected all day.

But it wasn't like I'd wasted the day. Hell, I had a whole new chapter in my Memory Book. Maybe I'd have to start a whole new book!

I kept my eye out and, sure enough, both girls were picked up that evening by separate guys in separate cars. The guys (this time, I was peeking through the blinds in my front window) looked well-dressed and cool and all grown up. They drove decent cars. Crap! I was hoping they'd both be hopeless losers, so that I might more easily steal the affections of one (or maybe both) of my sexy neighbor girls.

But then, hey, nothing really worth having is acquired easily. I'd just have to work a little harder, that's all.

I puttered around for a couple of hours, putting stuff away and trying to make the new place look like somebody actually lived there. The rest could wait for tomorrow.

Sunday morning, I was up early. My muscles were a little stiff from yesterday's exertions, but after a breakfast of cold, leftover spaghetti, tenderly transported by me from the old place, I was feelin' good. I worked steadily for the entire morning, putting stuff away and shaping up the apartment.

By 11 a.m., it was lookin' pretty trim. I wondered if my neighbors would be interested in lunch. What better way to become more intimately acquainted. Sunday lunch. Or, if they were late sleepers, Sunday brunch, even. There was an IHOP nearby.

All right, so some people sneer at IHOP. I'm not one of them, OK?

I remembered both girls' full names, and tried the telephone directory. They were both in there -- with the usual feeble female attempt at avoiding calls from perverts:

"S. Winthrop" was in there, and so was "M. A. Mathis". The phone number, for both, was the same, and the address information, while sketchy, seemed to fit.

I called. Molly answered. I could tell it was she, because she sounded so civilized.

"Hey, Molly, it's Greg -- from next door?"

"Oh."

"Yeah, well. I was wondering if I could invite the two of you out for lunch -- or brunch, if you haven't had breakfast? I saw the IHOP nearby, and..."

"Well. We had a pretty late night. Sarah's not even up yet. But she's awake. Hold on."

I held on. I could hear mumbles but not words. I think Molly's hand was over the phone.

Or, maybe she'd buried the receiver, down in that red, curly -- Christ, Greg! Grow up!

She was back. "Sarah says she got in too late, and doesn't want to get up until dark. I think she's exaggerating a little, but anyway, it looks like a firm 'no' to your offer."

"Well, how about you?" I said. "We could go, just the two of us."

"Sarah was pretty pissed at you last night."

"You mean, she won't allow you to go to brunch with me? She looks awfully young to be your mother," I said.

Hey, I can be sarcastic, too. It isn't hard.

There was a pause. Then Molly said, "OK. Come by in about ten minutes. Don't ring the bell, in case Sarah really is sleeping. Just knock on the door, lightly. I'll hear it."

Ten minutes later, we were walking up the street to the IHOP. Molly was wearing teeny white shorts and a little button-shirt that was vivid green and went beautifully with her red hair.

"You look wonderful in green," I blurted.

"Thank you," she said. "It's a good color for someone with my -- coloring."

"Yes." I got quiet, thinking about Molly's 'coloring'."

I think she was reading my mind. (It isn't hard to do. I'm a guy.) But she decided to give me a pass, this time.

We got acquainted on the way to breakfast, and while waiting to be served at the busy IHOP. Molly was a paralegal in a law office, and was slowly completing course work toward a law degree in night school.

Hmmm. I had thought Sarah was the one who might be a lawyer. Molly said Sarah was still a full-time student at George Washington University, completing a Master's degree in fine arts.

A lawyer-to-be and an artist-to-be. And me, a half-assed computer programmer. Well, maybe three-quarter-assed.

When Molly found out I was a computer nerd, she shyly asked if I would help them with their home computer. "It is already set up, and it works -- kinda," she said. "But somebody who knows what he's doing, I think, could make it do better. It's very slow. I think maybe we've got some viruses in there."

I promised to take a look at their computer, if she didn't think Sarah would object.

"She won't object. It's not like we have a lot of personal stuff on it. I mean -- you won't find any naked pictures of Brad Pitt on there."

"Gee, that's too bad," I said. "He's my favorite!" That got the obligatory chuckle from Molly.

You remember Molly? The one with the red...

Jeez, Greg, grow up, already, will you!

Anyway, I managed to act like a grown-up-type, manly man, despite the evil thoughts that kept racing through my head all through our brunch. The food was good, Molly was a sweetheart, easy to talk to and wonderful to look at across a table, and it was after 1 o'clock before we got back to the townhouses.

"That was fun," I said when we got to her door. "Thanks for coming along."

"Thanks for brunch," she said. "Next time, my turn."

So, there was going to be a next time! Greg, you sly bastard! "Next time," she'd said. Oh, yeah!

That afternoon, I kept working on the cleanup of the apartment, checking frequently at the back window to see if my lovely neighbors were taking advantage of the Sunday afternoon sunshine.