“Oof!” Sarah Miller grunted as she did her patented lift-jump-hurl move to get the trash bag into the dumpster. The lid of the dumpster almost swiped her arm. Ugh. Gross. All she wanted was to be just tall enough so she could hold the lid with one arm and throw the trash bag in with the other. Was it too much to ask, God?

“You need any help?” A deep slow voice called to her from farther down the brick-paved alley.

She turned to look at the guy, perplexed. Didn’t he know you weren’t supposed to talk to strangers in the alley? He was walking towards the dumpster with a bag of trash in each hand so presumably he was a neighbor, not quite a stranger. Hopefully not a creepy neighbor.

“No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

“I mean, are you sure? Because while I don’t mind watching you jump and twist, but I can hold the lid for you. Or you can hold the lid and I can chunk all of it in. It’s not a problem, ma’am.”

Dang, with a voice like that—and saying ma’am? He probably wasn’t from around here. Also, probably not that creepy…right?

“Okay, I’ll hold the lid.”

“Thanks. I’m Mark Jones by the way. Just moved in.”

“Oh really? From where?” He had on a pro football t-shirt, athletic shorts, and sunglasses with a strap around his neck. He definitely looked and sounded middle class, and middle-class people, when they did move into the city, tended to live in the more gentrified areas to the north and west. This—he—was intriguing.

“Memphis.”

“Memphis? What brought you to St. Louis city? I’m Sarah, by the way.” She pointed at her yard. “That’s my yard there, with the garden.”

Her garden was her pride and joy. She loved her students at the neighborhood elementary school a lot, but her garden was what got her through every difficult semester, planning the garden, buying the seeds in the throes of the unpredictable early spring semester which lately—thanks, global warming—veered wildly between much warmer and very much winter temperatures, and then starting seeds and planting while the semester wound down, giving her hope that she could finish the semester, that her students would grow like the seeds, that they would be okay over the summer. Half of them would move, some of them into another school zoning 0r get poached by a charter school’s flashier brochures, and okay, yeah, her school wasn’t perfect, and some kids might do better in other schools. But would they be loved as hard? She wasn’t sure.

It was August, so the garden was still in the throes of success. Tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, squash. The zucchini had taken up so much space she was a little scared of it, even if they had mostly succumbed to vine borers already. The tomatoes had already grown out of the space and their cages and seemed to be trying to grow up the steps into her house. And her peppers—she was fobbing them off on strangers walking down the street. She would never make enough salsa to use all those jalapenos. She didn’t have a yard anymore, just a garden and a parking spot for her little compact car, but it kept her sane.

“Wow, you grew all that?” He did sound suitably impressed. Point in his favor.

“Yep, it’s my baby, my stress relief.”

“Dang, that’s even bigger than my grandma’s!”

She grimaced at that comment. Being compared to old ladies was her favorite. “Well, it’s not that big, being here in the city.”

“Yeah, but that must be a lot of work!” He was visibly impressed as they walked towards her lot.

“It’s so good to dig in the dirt though.” Even if the soil probably could use some serious remediation. One hundred twenty years of urban living left a mark. “You want any peppers and tomatoes? I’ve got more than I can eat.”

“Do you can or freeze? That’s what my grandma does.”

“Well, I mostly try to just get rid of it.”

“I don’t even have any kitchen stuff yet, so it’d probably just go to waste. But thanks for the offer.”

“You’re welcome.” She waited to see if he was going to point out which almost row house was his, but then figured she’d just drive north out of the alley and see which car had Tennessee plates. That wasn’t creepy or intrusive, no. Their shared neighborhood was an old one in the city. The tall brick houses or duplexes were close together, just room for a walking path and a strip of grass. The back lots had postage stamp lots. Her block was doing okay, but close by there were slews of empty or abandoned buildings, tumbling down, but in her opinion, still beautiful because of the details the original builders had lavished on them.

“What do you do in the city?” She wanted to know.

“I moved here to teach.”

“Oh my gosh, where? Me too!” Most of the teachers at Sarah’s school lived in the suburbs, some of them even in Illinois. As far as she knew, the staff hadn’t been finalized yet—what if he were her co-worker?

“Wolf Charter Schools. I just started with USA-Teach.”

Sarah hoped he couldn’t see her face fall. That meant not only was he probably a lot younger than her and not her co-worker, he was also her worst enemy. She probably needed to spend some time dealing with whatever caused that fierce surge of anger, but charter schools and USA-Teach made everything at her under-resourced neighborhood public school so much harder.

“This is your first year? Do you feel ready?” She wasn’t sure if her tone came off like a helpful veteran or an inquisitor.

“Well, I’m having stress dreams, but I worked really hard during our summer prep. I guess you don’t really know if you’re ready until you’re in front of the classroom.” That was actually a good answer.

“Well, I had to student teach before I graduated, so yeah, when I started my teaching job, I had already been in front of the classroom.” Gah, she couldn’t believe it. A helpful, charming, and she allowed herself to admit, good looking man was her new neighbor, and she not only philosophically disagreed with his reason for relocation, she was being an asshole to him.

“Ohhh.” His eyes were immediately hooded. “You’re one of those.”

“What?”

“We’ve been warned about you. The public-school only people.” He smiled as he said it. Did he think this was a game?

“And we don’t have to be warned about YOU because we’ve seen the damage done to our schools and our students already.” She was surprised at the vehemence of her words. This conversation wasn’t going to get better. She should let the man throw his trash out before she started to yell at him for no good reason.

She held the lid up. “Here you go!”

He swung the trash in. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, I’ll see you around the alley?”

She let the dumpster lid fall as he asked her. “I guess.” She really shouldn’t be this grumpy about a new neighbor—he was probably good-hearted. He was definitely good looking. Memphis, just down the river.

“Bye.” She threaded her way through the tomato branches reaching into the sidewalk and managed to walk up the stairs to her door without looking back or stepping on any plants.