Honk

While working in my home office today, I heard a horn honk three times from somewhere close by. The honking sounded like a "Hey, I'm here!" sort of toot, from someone in a car, trying to catch the attention of someone not in the car.

I didn't think anything of the sounds, each of them barely registering on my consciousness.

A minute or so later, three more honks sounded. These three were followed by a pause, maybe five seconds, and another three honks.

I didn't think much of these sounds either, though they DID register on my consciousness.

So, when a few minutes later, the cycle of three honks followed by a ten second pause, repeating over and over again, started up, I wondered if someone was at the front of my house, trying to get my attention.

Kris HATES when people pull up to the house and honk. I'm sure it has more to do with irritating the neighbors, when leaving your car, walking up the driveway, and knocking on the door, will work perfectly fine, rather than announcing to the neighborhood that you're too lazy to move. Needless to say, I don't honk, I walk. I'm fairly certain that my friends are much the same way: they walk up to the door (because rare is the time I'm actually outside waiting for them - very rare).

After verifying the honking wasn't directed at me, I wandered back to the office and started working again.

Ten minutes later, the horn started again. Only this time, it was held down, and just kept going. I waited five, eight, ten seconds, before getting up to find the source.

Out the front door, the sounds echoing off the neighbor's houses. Hmmmm, the source could be the next street over. I walked out to the sidewalk, no, coming from this street to the north. I scanned the cars around, wondering if any were occupied.

Ah, there was one. As I turned to cross the street to approach the car, honestly wondering if the driver had passed out from a heart attack and was slumped over the steering wheel, one final grasp at attracting the attention of help, a woman came running out of the house on whose driveway the car was parked. She threw open the car door. "Stop it! Stop IT! STOP IT!" she yelled at the man in the passenger seat.

I paused.

She threw her purse into the back of the car, and turned back towards the house. I watched her turn, unsure what, if anything, I should do.

As I stood there, she came back to the car, and saw me on the sidewalk in front of her house. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"I don't know if he is," she answered.

"Are YOU okay?"

She avoided my question. "Where are you from?" she asked, pointing in my direction.

"Back there," I gestured noncommittedly.

"Oh, T---'s house?"

I looked at her vaguely, a bit confused. That name sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. "T---'s house?" she asked again. "Next to J----'s?"

"Oh, yes," realizing that, dang, she knew which house was mine. I was suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment for my front yard, my weed factory, going strong. "So, are you okay?" I tried to distract her away from my yard, as she had distracted me away from the man who had laid on her car horn for a minute straight.

"Yes, I think so. Thanks for asking."

"Okay." I turned away from the woman. I don't know her name. I don't know her husband's name. I don't know anything about either of them, except that, to her, my house is still T---'s house.