Monday, June 26, 2006

The Man on the Roof

He smiled and waved and I politely smiled back. I thought he was smiling because of the three year-old in my arms. We watched as her mother pulled out of the driveway, out to run errands and have some time to herself. He made another pass across the front of the house as we watched, but this time he puckered his lips and gave me an unsettling look. I closed the door and locked it.

All morning they pounded on the roof, tearing off shingles and throwing them into the dumpster below. It was hot, and the sun was relentlessly shining. Maggie Beth insisted on playing outside and I reluctantly agreed. As we stepped out, I felt his eyes on me. I was afraid to look up, but I glanced every now and then. His eyes beat down on me harder than the mid-day sun.

And without a word or an action, he made me feel disrespected. Angry. Violated. Intruded upon. We went inside early. I was relieved when the roofers left for a while, and even more relieved when her mother returned. I hurried to my car and didn't even glance upward. I still felt his eyes on me as I pulled away. I shook my head in disgust and went home.


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