Zarry was the head of a local nature group and hated anything that wasn’t natural. Jane wondered if he liked poison ivy since, you know, it was natural and all. 

Zarry was socially inept enough that he didn’t ask how she was in return, playing the social nicety game, so Jane said, “What can I do for you?” 

“Oh,” Zarry said, as if he had forgotten why he had stopped by himself, “It’s your grass. No Mow May is over. Those code enforcement inspectors will be all over us on Monday if we don’t cut  the grass, so I just wanted to remind you to cut it this weekend, so you don’t get a ticket. I mean  personally I don’t care if you grow a forest, but some of our neighbors are majorly uncool, man.”

“Scott’s supposed to cut it,” Jane said. 

“Scott’s back?” Zarry said, sounding heartbroken. 

Even though thinking Scott was back would lessen Zarry’s constant hitting on her, Jane still was bitter enough about the relationship’s demise that she corrected Zarry’s misconception, “No, he just agreed to cut the grass until we sold the house.” 

Zarry smiled, “Well, I can do it for you if he doesn’t.” 

A vision of Zarry having a heart attack trying to cut what now looked like a wheat field in the front yard in an effort to impress her and then not being found until Scott ran him over with the  lawnmower flashed before Jane’s eyes. “No,” Jane said, “Thank you, but he has to live up to his  responsibilities. I’m not letting him off that easily. In the meantime, if they hassle me, I can tell them  I’ve joined that Save The Soil religious movement from India and my religious beliefs prevent my grass from being cut.” 

“Huh? I’m not sure that would work, but that does sound interesting. Anyway, it’s his loss,” Zarry yelled, “Some people don’t know how good they have it.” 

Jane didn’t reply, and Zarry apparently didn’t know what to say after that, so he sneezed and  then said, “Well, if you need anything, then just let me know.” 

Jane nodded, “Thanks, Zarry.” 

She closed the window, glad not to have to yell some more about the death of her marriage for  the whole neighborhood to hear. She hadn’t even known it was No Mow May, whatever that exactly was, presumably something about not mowing in May, but she was getting increasingly irritated that Scott wasn’t cutting the grass, probably too busy doing the entire Kama Sutra with his new skank. She had thought about hiring a lawn service and sending Scott the bill, but she would have to pay for it first, and she already had enough bills to worry about. The latest was an annoying set of dental bills for a  root canal that was done badly a couple of years ago. She had thought about suing the endodontist but  being in one lawsuit, the divorce, at a time was enough. The endodontist probably hadn’t meant to screw up. Mistakes do happen. Unfortunately, this one had cost Jane a couple of grand to fix a few  years down the road when the root he missed kept getting infected and another endodontist had to go in and rework it. 

Rework. Sometimes Jane thought her whole life could use some rework. A divorce. Unemployment. Too much drinking (Jane wouldn’t yet admit she had a problem; it was just too much  of a good thing to her). Soon to be homeless when the house sold. Children who didn’t need her  anymore and didn’t understand that she needed them at the moment. It was as if a playful god had swept in and decided to destroy her old life so she could build a new one. Or maybe it was a malicious one who just liked destroying things. Well, Jane wasn’t destroyed yet. 

***

(The Front Yard War is available at Amazon, ebook or paperback; at Google; or directly from Wred Fright himself by contacting him at wredfrightATyahooDOTcom. Wred is a long-time underground writer– DIY all the way– who’s contributed several fiction features to New Pop Lit, most recently “Fast Guy Slows Down.”)