On the Other Side of the Fence

Beyond the fence separating my backyard and my neighbors' there was a gigantic trampoline. I rubbed the sleep out of my bleary eyes in disbelief, yawning involuntarily. When I looked again, it was still there, smack dab in the middle of their spacious backyard resting on their flawless grass - the kind of grass you would only find on golf courses of country clubs, vivid green and uniformly clipped. The trampoline hadn't been there last night, and the monstrosity looked like it would take more than a day to put together. Yet there it stood at seven in the morning, under the rising sun, in all its matte black splendor. I downed the last dregs of my coffee before retreating inside and closed the terrace door behind me.

My new neighbors moved in only a few months ago. The house next door had been recently constructed and stood out awkwardly amongst the other residences in the neighborhood. It was massive and expensive just like all the other possessions that were unloaded from the three moving vans. The neighbors were quiet people, and they mostly kept to themselves. Their daughter looked about nine years old, and she was just as reclusive. I manned the lemonade stand during the annual summer block party and was expecting the little girl to show up with her parents in tow, but she never did. We finally met nearly a month after their arrival. As I was taking out the trash, I saw her sitting on the steps of her porch, a bored expression on her face. I gave her a warm smile and she answered my greeting with a sullen glare.

"What are you doing on such a nice day?" I asked, squinting my eyes in the blinding summer sun.

"Nothing," she replied.

I smiled once again. "There's a community pool right down the street. I could walk you over if you'd like."

She shrugged. "Don't wanna," she said and diverted her attention to the piece of technology she pulled out of her pocket. My eyes bugged out of my head in shock. A little nine year old was playing with the latest and the greatest smart phone that I could only dream of having.

Needless to say, our conversation pretty much ended after that. She ignored my attempts at socializing, and I eventually gave up and returned to my house. From what I could tell, her parents spoiled her. Besides the trampoline and smart phone, she was also gifted with a shiny red bike, a scooter, a set of swings, and just about everything else under the sun a little kid could want. Yet every time I saw her, she looked like the most miserable kid in the world. I couldn't help but find her an ungrateful brat, and I have to admit it was partially because I felt a bit envious; I wished my childhood had been as blessed as hers is. After than incident, I only saw her in passing. I would always wave, and very rarely she would answer with a halfhearted little wave of her own. Those were her good days.

We had our real conversation a few months later on Halloween night. I had finished passing out candy, and I went out onto my back porch for some fresh air. I found her lying on her trampoline, staring up at the stars.

"Hey!" I called out. "How are your spoils? Did you get a lot of candy?"

She sat up and looked at me, her eyes blinking owlishly. "I didn't go trick-or-treating."

 I frowned at this. "I have some leftover candy," I said, waving her over.  "You can have it."

I half expected her to refuse like usual and go back to stargazing, but instead she actually got up and climbed over the fence into my yard. I smiled and invited her into my kitchen where the tub of candy sat on the granite counter.

"Help yourself," I said.

She began eating the candy silently, her face expressionless the entire time. No smile. Not at all. It began to unnerve me, and finally, I could no longer contain it.

"What's wrong?" I asked. She stopped mid-chew and looked at me inquiringly.

"Do you not like the candy or something?" I clarified.

"It's fine."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Problem?"

I huffed and frowned. I knew I was being a little too harsh with a girl I barely even knew, but I couldn't help myself. "You're always sad and frowning as if there's nothing to be happy about, and I just don't get it."

She didn't answer me; she just sat at my counter with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes watching me. That was the last straw.

"I don't get it," I continued. "You have all they toys you could ever want, and yet you always wear this dissatisfied expression on your face. It's really depressing, don't you know? Gosh, you should try and act a little more grateful. I never had any of the stuff that you had. I wish I had it as great as you."

I stopped myself then. It was embarrassing how easily I lost my control, but I couldn't help but feel satisfied for saying what that she should have been told a long time ago. She was quiet after that, and she eventually lowered her gaze to her lap. I felt more and more uneasy with each minute that ticked by. It really wasn't any of my business, even if I was right. It opened my mouth to tell her to forget it, to fill the silence, anything -

"You don't get it," she suddenly said, and with horror I realized her voice was wet with tears. When she looked up, I saw her eyes were red and her cheeks all blotchy.

"You want this? Why would you ever want this?" she asked, her voice thick with a deep, unwavering sadness. "Everything they give me is to make up for all the times they missed my birthday, Christmas, my play, my choir concert. It's for all of the times they aren't there. They are never there."

I stood there dumbfounded, feeling small and insignificant in my cramped kitchen. Everything suddenly became impossibly clear, but it was already too late. The damage was done, my words couldn't be unsaid, and I listened to her quiet sobs reach deep within me and tear at my heartstrings.