The Kudzu Review
loaf on the couch, watch a movie, and smoke a cigarette. Wren can’t count all the parties he missed, the birthdays he forgot, the dates he stood up just because he was too tired to make an effort. He thinks about Tony living in that big house by himself. He thinks about how little he knows about his neighbor. He definitely has money, but what else? He glances at Bia’s garden. Okay, fine. Fine. He will not let them down, not today of all days. He gets up from his picnic chair and walks across the grass, up the steps of the porch, and knocks on the door of the yellow house. Tony has removed the hideous fake goose sitting next to the entrance and, in its place, has put an abstract statue resembling a dog. Woof. Wren shifts his focus, gapes at the green door. He admires the paint chips, the dent at the upper right-hand corner, the bronze ornate knob. He is charmed. Art. This is art. He giggles. The door creaks open, and a tall man in his sixties with a rough and gray beard, a long ponytail, and a flannel shirt steps out. Wren continues giggling. Tony gives him a stern look. Wren tenses up and immediately stops. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “What?” “Sorry. I mean, I like your door.” “Thanks, Wren. What do you want?” Wren relaxes when Tony says his name. Five years flash before his eyes: five years of Tony giving him shit about leaving stuff out on the lawn, Tony calling the cops whenever they threw a party on a weeknight, Tony initiating long and aimless conversations in the driveway that should have been a simple hello. They really have been through it together. Wren gets a little sad thinking about the fact he may never see him again. “Hey, man. We’re having a barbecue later. It might go late, some people are swinging by. You know I leave tomorrow? You’re welcome to join us!” Tony squints his eyes for a second. “It’s Friday, you’re good,” he says. “Where you going anyway?” “Florida.” “Florida? OK, well good luck with that.” “I dig the new—” Tony closes the door on Wren’s face before he can comment on 8
