Well, anyhooha, the two drinks had fortified me and made me brassy enough to say, with a look-down-at-my-watch flourish tossed in for good measure and... overall general effect, "Should we, uh, Malomar, get it to? I-I mean get to it?" What class! What savoir faire! What a shithead.I had spoken the words as I stood up, my tent somewhat dulled by the two Scotches, thank you, God, and crossed the distance between us. I felt tottery on my feet and light-headed and it wasn't from the alcohol. It was. But since there weren’t that many other foreign teachers at the school, and since he lived so close to me, we sort of had to be friends.Living in such close confines, if we weren’t friendly, at least on a surface level, it would have gotten awkward quickly.At least he read books, which is a rarity in this day and age. I appreciated that about him. He was a thinker and one of the few teachers I’d met who could carry on a conversation, wasn’t halfway autistic, too weird, too alcoholic, or a. After a couple of minutes, as I was lying panting and practically sobbing on my back on the gravel, I heard footsteps crunching towards me. I turned my head in alarm, wondering who it was who caught me. If it was any of the neighbours or, god forbid, a cop, then I was toast. My reputation in the neighbourhood would be mud.But it was Brent. He stood over me like a giant, his hands on his hips, the sweat still glinting on his bare chest, his baggy shorts tenting menacingly, smirking down at me. I was relieved. I kept fantasizing about Anne and got little or no sleep at night thinking about her all night. Now it was a couple of days away from Anne’s birthday. I was thinking about getting something really nice for her. But after thinking for a long time I couldn’t figure out what I should get her. I then decided to get her a rose bouquet. I hadn’t talked to Anne since the incident when she saw me or at least I think she saw me peeping through her window. She called me on my cell phone.