Happenstance - Steves

             Steve Garrett listened with satisfaction at the sound of the post being driven into his front yard, all the while staring at his neighbour’s house.  Steve Hannahan’s reign as the bane of Steve Garrett’s existence would end as soon as a ‘sold’ sticker was slapped on the new for sale sign going up in Steve Garrett’s yard.  Instead of anger at the sight of his neighbour’s unkempt yard, Steve Garrett now felt smug.  He no longer scowled when he heard Steve Hannahan’s dog bark, instead smirking with satisfaction.  He may be stuck sharing Steve Hannahan’s name, but he didn’t have to share a property line.

            Three days later, Steve Garrett didn’t know quite what to think when he arrived home from work to find a matching post and sign in Steve Hannahan’s front yard.  He sat in his truck looking between the two for sale signs, wondering if Steve Hannahan was as sick of his complaining as he was of Steve Hannahan’s negligence.  Good riddance, Steve Garrett thought, the lazy sod can go through the pain of moving too.  Steve Garrett felt like Steve Hannahan’s glares had been particularly cold recently, and he felt greatly gratified in thinking he had made his neighbour’s plans to move redundant.  But neither man would back down, so both signs stayed stubbornly in the ground.  Both houses had strangers traipsing through and critiquing the Steves’ décor choices.  Both houses, within a week of each other, had the coveted ‘sold’ stickers added to their signs.

            Steve Hannahan moved out first.  Steve Garrett spent a glorious two weeks with no dogs acting as his 3am, 4am, and 5am alarms and with a new neighbour who was capable of pushing a mower around the yard before the grass went to seed.  Then it was Steve Garrett’s turn – time to leave this cursed street and make a new start with new, non-Steve neighbours.

            Steve Garrett’s new house was a corner lot with a park behind it, so he only had one new neighbour to contend with.  Steve smiled at the neatly trimmed lawn and the silence that met his ears as he pulled his truck into his new driveway.  Before he had a chance to unhook the bungee cords haphazardly holding down his furniture an old lady had made her way from across the street.  She introduced herself as Lucinda, and Steve introduced himself back.  Lucinda laughed in delight.

            “Oh, what a coincidence!  You know the fellow next door just moved in a couple weeks ago.  And wouldn’t you know it, his name is Steve too!”

            Steve Garrett shivered from an psychosomatic cold wind.  Surely not.  Not here.  Forgetting about the friendly lady in front of him, Steve Garrett turned and strode across the lawn to the house that sat so innocently next to his.  He banged on the door then waited, his hand still in a fist.  It couldn’t be.  He wouldn’t allow it.

            The door opened.  A man stood there, looking very much like a Steve, but very much not Steve Hannahan.  Steve Garrett let out a shaky breath, unclenched his fist, and changed his plan to friendly introductions.  This Steve was Steve Mercandy.  Steve Garrett felt he wouldn’t mind sharing his name with this man at all.

            A week of quiet, well-maintained bliss followed.  One morning, Steve Garrett was in his new garage readying his lawn mower for its maiden tour of the new lawn.  He hummed along to the radio as he topped off the gas tank, no barking dogs next door to drown out Hank Williams anymore.

            “Hi there Steve, how’s it going?”  Steve Garrett looked up to see Steve Mercandy at his garage door.  Steve Garrett put down his gas can and walked over to talk to his new friend and neighbour.

            “Hey, it’s going great!  What a nice neighbourhood this is,” Steve Garrett said happily.  Steve Mercandy, however, looked troubled.

            “Yes, it’s been quite nice.”  Steve Mercandy hesitated, his eyes sweeping through Steve Garrett’s garage until they landed on his radio.  “The music’s a little loud, don’t you think?  People are probably out trying to enjoy the peace in their yards, you know,” he added, his voice pleasant but his gaze sharp.  Steve Garrett blinked in surprise, but acquiesced.

            “Oh, sure, if it’s bothering you,” he said, walking over to the bench to flick off the radio.  Steve Mercandy stayed where he was, now eyeing Steve Garrett’s lawn mower.  Steve Garrett waited warily for what was coming next.

            “Going to cut your grass now?”  Steve Mercandy asked, a little too innocently.

            “Yeah.  Hope it won’t be too loud for you,” Steve Garrett replied sardonically.  Steve Mercandy took a step back out of the garage to run a critical eye over Steve Garrett’s lawn.

            “Not going to pull the weeds first?” he asked stiffly.  Steve Garrett strode past the other Steve to get a better view of his lawn.

            “I don’t see any weeds,” Steve Garrett said flatly.  Steve Mercandy turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

            “Hmm.”  Steve Mercandy’s single syllable was full of judgement.  “Well, I’ll be talking to you,” he said and abruptly left, taking the sidewalk back to his house rather than step on his perfectly coiffed lawn.  Even after he had disappeared into his house, Steve Garrett still stared down his driveway, his eyes looking thoughtfully at the for sale sign still on his front lawn.