On Friday night, Jensen paced the kitchen wondering what was most appropriate to take to a neighbor when a family member was sick. It was easier if they died. You took whatever food the living could enjoy. In Jensen’s family, that meant his Mom made a lasagna. He remembered grocery shopping with her as a child. He peppered her with questions as she picked up the aluminum pan in the store.

If there was someone sick, did you need to figure out what they could eat, or was the food mainly a comfort to the caregiver? If it was about the person who was sick, that required speaking to Alec before showing up with food in hand. Jensen rejected that idea and returned to the lasagna concept. As he sipped a cup of coffee, Jensen remembered shopping with his mom in the grocery store after his aunt passed away.

He said, “Mom, you’ve got a lasagna pan at home. Why do you need this?”

“I’m not going back to retrieve my pan after they’ve eaten the lasagna. They can keep this one.”

Jensen remembered the smile on Uncle Phil’s face when he accepted the pan. He said, “Thank you so much. Everyone is so thoughtful. You never know how many wonderful friends and family you have until something like this happens.”

Later, Jensen discovered the extent of the thoughtfulness. Uncle Phil owned an extra chest freezer in addition to the one on top of the refrigerator. They were both stuffed full of food brought by well-meaning neighbors and relatives. In the end, Jensen’s mom went home with more food than she brought.

It felt like deja vu when Jensen searched for a foil lasagna pan in the grocery store and shopped for noodles, fresh tomatoes, garlic, and mozzarella cheese. He didn’t know if the gift of food would do much to thaw the icy relationship with Alec, but Jensen knew it would successfully soothe his conscience.

As the kitchen filled up with the luscious aroma of homemade sauce, Jensen was thankful that he remembered to buy two aluminum pans. He would have a spare lasagna to share with Les later in the week.

Jensen laughed to himself when he remembered another question he asked his mom about making lasagna. He asked, “Why do you make all of this stuff? You can buy it at the deli counter and put it in the microwave. That’s what Aaron says his mom does, and it’s pretty good. She served it for dinner the last time I was there.”

Mom said, “Because you know it was cooked with love when you do it yourself. Everybody else can figure that out, too.”

“Do you think those people at the grocery store hate cooking? That’s kind of sad if they do.”

Mom nodded. “They might. You don’t know, so you might get a good one if the cook was having a nice day, or it might be a bad one if they were complaining about their job.”

Jensen nodded and dipped a finger into the cooling sauce. “That’s yummy. You must be having a good day, Mom.”

She laughed and then scolded. “I hope that finger is clean!”

Jensen sighed. “You make me wash my hands ten times a day. It’s clean!”

Late on Saturday morning, Jensen dipped his grandmother’s wooden spoon into his homemade sauce and tasted it. It was exactly like what he remembered as a child. He smiled to himself pleased that he could cook nearly as well as his mom.

An hour later, with the cooked lasagna cooling on a rack, Jensen suddenly tugged at his T-Shirt and muttered to himself, “Fuck, I can’t go looking like this. He’ll think I’m the slob next door.”

Shoving his shirts from one side of the closet to the other, Jensen struggled with his usual dilemma when getting dressed. He had plenty of clothes for casual times hanging out with Les, and he had options for going out to plays, work, and nice dinners. The in-between times were confusing.

Finally settling on conservative khakis and a plain, pale blue button-up shirt, Jensen stared at himself in the mirror and muttered, “This is all your fucking fault, Les. He hates me. I’m going to look like a fool.”

It was only a short two-minute walk next door. It wasn’t long enough to develop second thoughts and turn back. As he climbed the front steps, Jensen frowned when he noticed the weedy flower beds stretching to either side of the front porch. The flowers weren’t dead, but they were overgrown and in danger of getting choked out by weeds. The blossoms were long gone.

Jensen pushed the doorbell and tried to figure out the best facial expression. He wanted a warm, soothing smile but nothing that looked fake. It had to be genuine, or Alec would figure it out.

No one answered. Jensen knew that Alec was home. His car was in the driveway. He pushed the doorbell again. When there was no answer again, an icy finger of dread tugged at the base of his spine. What if something happened to both of them?

After a minute of trying to decide whether he should give up and leave or persist, Jensen knocked on the door and pushed the doorbell at the same time. He finally heard sound from inside the house. He heard a shouted, “Okay, okay!”

Jensen’s right knee started to wobble as the front door opened. He didn’t remember that Alec was shorter. In a ridiculously meek voice, Jensen said, “Hi.”

Alec barked back at him, “What the fuck do you want? This isn’t a good time.”

Alec looked awful. Jensen knew that having someone sick in the house was stressful, but Alec looked worse than that. A wrinkled T-Shirt hung loosely on his body, and the circles under his eyes were black and puffy.

Jensen decided that he should speak quickly. He said, “I saw you with the woman in the wheelchair the other day. I guessed that it was your mom, and I thought you might like some food that you don’t have to cook yourself.” He held out the pan. “It’s lasagna. It’s from scratch. It’s my mom’s recipe.”

Jensen didn’t expect the next comment. Alec spoke in a flat voice with no emotion at all. He said, “She’s dead.”

Jensen blinked. One hand faltered, and he nearly dropped the pan. “She’s what? I mean…”

“What the fuck? Don’t you understand English? I said she’s dead. She died two days ago.” Alec reached up to grab the edge of the door.

The flee response set in for Jensen. He pushed the pan against Alec’s chest until Alec had no choice but to take it. Jensen said, “Oh man, I’m so sorry. Well, here’s the lasagna, but I need to go. Don’t worry about the pan. Keep it. I’ve got to go.”

Jensen turned on his heel and started to take a step forward when he felt a hand reach out for his elbow and grab it tightly with a firm grip. Alec said, “No, wait. Hold on.”

Jensen turned back around. Alec was at least ten years older, and he was built powerfully strong. As Les observed, he was like a bulldog. Because of the muscular build, although Alec was shorter, Jensen still felt like he was looking up at an older, intimidating, unpredictable man balancing a lasagna pan in one hand. A shudder swept through Jensen’s body.

Alec asked, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re acting like a little puppy who thinks I’m going to smack the hell out of him. Get in here. I could use some company. Just don’t act like an idiot. I don’t suffer fools.”

The possibility of leaving was gone. Jensen couldn’t say no without appearing impossibly rude. He stepped inside as Alec reached around to close the door. Jensen said, “I’m sorry. We didn’t get along so well the last time I talked to you.”

Alec raised an eyebrow. “When did we talk? Have we ever talked?”

“You complained about the dead flowers.”

Alec snickered, and he nodded acknowledging the statement. “Fuck, you remember that? Mine are a fucked up mess now, too. So I guess we’re even. That was years ago, wasn’t it?”

Jensen shook his head. “Yeah, it was, and I didn’t mean anything about your yard.”

Alec gestured toward the sofa. “Have a seat there on the couch. Move shit out of the way if you need to. This place is a shithole of a mess. It’s been a hard couple of days.”

The truth of the matter was the house was a disaster area. At first glance, it looked like magazines, pizza boxes, and old mail littered the living room. After he pushed some magazines aside and sat down, Jensen realized it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be cleaned up in less than half an hour of sorting and putting things away.

Alec asked, “Do you need anything to drink? I guess I need to be polite, but I’m in a ‘fuck the world’ mood. I’m pissed. Cancer is a fucking bastard. Consider this a warning. I’m toxic right now.”

Jensen already picked up on the mood. He said, “I understand. My aunt died a few years back, and it was rough. My cousins were a mess.”

“You know what? I don’t want to hear somebody else’s story. How about a beer? Do you drink? I need a fucking beer.”

Jensen thought it was a little early in the day for drinking, but he didn’t want to push the issue. Alec was angry enough as it was. He said, “Yeah, a beer sounds good.”

As he headed toward the kitchen, Alec said, “Don’t think I don’t appreciate this lasagna. It looks good. I’m just a shitty mess. They all say it will pass. Who knows when? That damned nurse said I’d go through these stupid stages. I guess this is the anger one because I want to tear the fucking world apart.”

Jensen fidgeted while sitting on the couch. He waited for the return of Alec and the beer. After several minutes of waiting and hearing the sounds of dishes and pans clanging together, Jensen climbed off the couch and joined Alec in the kitchen. It was worse than the living room. Dry food clung to pots and pans, and plates and bowls lay in a haphazard pile in the sink.

Alec said, “Fuck it. I wanted to spruce it up a little before you wandered in here, but the reality is I don’t give a shit.”

“Can I help?”

“I don’t want pity from anybody. Here’s the beer.”

“No, seriously, there’s no pity. I want to help. That’s one of my things. Can I clean up the dishes and make lunch? Have you got anything in the fridge? I guess we could break into the lasagna if we need to.”

Alec held a hand up and leaned against the sink with his free one. “Now, wait. Hold up. What’s your game? I haven’t seen you since the day I bitched about your non-existent garden skills years ago, and now you want to be all Betty Homemaker for me? Something’s up.”

Jensen couldn’t put his finger on why, but he found Alec’s mood almost endearing. He was like a growling bear that could break down and hug you at any moment. Jensen said, “I only want to help. It’s what you do for a neighbor who had something like this happen, right? It’s what my mom would do. Shit, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to bring up moms.”

Alec smirked. “You still want to make your mom happy, don’t you? You want to be her good little boy. I assume she’s still alive.”

“Well, yeah, I guess. I mean I do want to do what she taught me was the right thing to do. Is there something wrong with that?”

Alec grabbed his open beer bottle off the kitchen counter. He swigged a mouthful of it with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Okay, fine. I guess it would be rude to say no, eh? Don’t expect help from me. I’ll sit right here at the table with the piles of junk mail. You can check in the fridge and put your lasagna in there. The only thing I’ve had to eat in the last two days is two bowls of cereal, and that’s gone. The milk’s gone too.”

Jensen pulled the refrigerator door open. It didn’t look promising. He saw vegetables that appeared limp and a package of ground beef with an expired date. As he closed the door, he said, “I’ll get the dishes in shape, but how about sharing a pizza? Would you be up for that?”

“Yeah, whatever. Knock yourself out. You might want to give your address instead of mine when you call. I had a little issue with a pizza driver a while back.”

Jensen opened his mouth to ask for more details and to find out the name of the pizza joint. They could avoid that one and pick another. He looked at Alec’s scowl as he picked at the label on the beer bottle and changed his mind. “Yeah, I’ll give them my address and then watch for the driver. They usually text when they’re close.”

The phone number of nearby pizza delivery was imprinted in Jensen’s brain. He’d ordered pizza enough times to share with Les. As he punched the numbers in, he realized he hadn’t asked Alec what he liked. Jensen raised an eyebrow and stared at the kitchen table.

Alec laughed softly. “You don’t have much experience dealing with a pissed off bastard, do you? Pepperoni and sausage are great for me. If you want something else, get yours on half. You might want to throw in some wings, too. I’m fucking hungry now.”

After he hung up the phone, Jensen tugged at the door of the dishwasher. It didn’t budge. He asked, “Is there something wrong with this?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t work, and I sealed it shut for now. Mom didn’t seem to understand the concept, and she kept putting stuff in there expecting it to wash. I used super glue to keep her out.”

“How long was she here?”

Alec drank another mouthful of beer. “Three weeks. At least she had the decency to die before my birthday instead of on it.”

“Wow, that’s really fast. What was it? Is it okay to ask?”

“Cancer. Pancreatic cancer. They say it goes fast. They told her that’s what it was about six weeks ago. She wanted to take care of herself, but she couldn’t do that anymore, so I brought her here. I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do with the house. It creeps the shit out of me already. She didn’t die here, but I woke up last night paranoid about ghosts.”

Jensen ran a sinkful of warm, soapy water. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Alec tried to stick his fingernail under the beer bottle label again. “I had one brother. He was a loser and offed himself by driving a car into solid concrete. It was probably for the best. He spent most of his waking hours fucked up on drugs anyway. I’m the last of the family since I don’t know where the fuck my dad is or if he’s even still alive. Correction. I do have an aunt and uncle, but I’m not sure they count.”

“I don’t mean to change the subject, but are you off work right now? I guess we didn’t talk about work before.”

“Damn, you do have a nosy ass, don’t you?”

Jensen chuckled softly to himself as he plunged his hands into the dishwater. He thought Alec was probably one of those people who said exactly what they thought all of the time. Jensen envied them. He said, “I’m trying to make conversation. I realized I don’t know anything about you other than the facts that you can grow flowers, and your mom got sick.”

“My mom died.”

“Yeah, that.”

Jensen heard the scrape of the chair as Alec stood up from the table. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when he sensed Alec coming in his direction. He exhaled, turned his head, and watched Alec set his empty bottle on the counter about six feet away.

Alec leaned back against the surface and said, “You can’t fucking say it yet, can you? Is it creepy for you to be around death? Can you smell it in here? I had all of the windows, every fucking one of them, open half the day yesterday, and it still smells like old, sick woman in here.”

“You said she didn’t die here in the house, right?”

Alec sighed. “No. She wanted to die here, but she didn’t make it back home from the hospital. The doc and the nurse told me she was stable, and then she flatlined five minutes after I left the room.”

Jensen turned his attention back to the dishes. “I’ve heard it happens like that a lot. She probably thought it was okay, and she’d said goodbye.”

“She was asleep. She didn’t know I left the room.”

“Or maybe she did.”

Alec slammed a hand down on the counter, and it made Jensen jump. He said, “Now don’t go fucking my head up with any talk about ghosts and shit like that. I don’t believe in it. She’s gone, and it’s over. She smoked and didn’t take care of herself for 48 of her 60 years, and it caught up to her. Don’t give me any shit about spirits. I saw her last night before bed, but I was fucked up on pot.”

Jensen remained calm. He was starting to understand that the tone of Alec’s voice went up and down with his level of emotion, but it looked like it was only his voice. He showed no signs of any physical aggression. Jensen asked, “Did you say you saw her?”

“Yeah. I’d finished a joint, and I was laying there on the couch. I don’t remember what the TV had on, and I looked at the chair. There she was like she’d never died. She turned and looked at me, and a few minutes later she was gone.”

“Did it bother you?”

Alec shook his head. “No, not until I woke up at 3:00 a.m. Actually, I felt a little relieved for some reason. My brain was tripping on the pot, though. The floor looked a little slanted, too. It doesn’t mean a fucking thing. Ghosts aren’t real.”

Jensen continued to wash the dishes in silence.

Alec asked, “Why’d you do this? I mean, I know family and friends are supposed to bring shit like food when somebody dies. Your mom probably taught you that, but you’re neither family nor friend of mine. They practically buried my grandfather under food when Grandma died. Then he went a week later. My mom found paper bags of food rotting on his back porch. It needed to go in the fridge, and it was 90 degrees out.”

Jensen stared into the sink and scrubbed at a saucepan. He said, “I guess I thought it was a good thing to do. We’re neighbors. I’d do the same for Cindi on the other side of me. I guess I didn’t want the flower thing to be the last conversation between us.”

“Yeah, Cindi’s sweet. She brought me some kind of big tuna thing yesterday.” Alec laughed. “I fucking hate tuna. It smells like dead fish.”

“Did you ever try to get to know her better? You’re both single.”

Alec shook his head. “Uh, that wouldn’t really work. I’d have a better chance with you. Not saying I want anything at all like that.”

Jensen turned with his eyes open wide. “You? I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, I fuck guys like you. Or maybe you get fucked. Don’t ask how I know, but I know. You don’t hide it. That’s one point in your favor.”

“Well, I don’t advertise it either. It’s not like I put a rainbow flag on my front stoop.”

Jensen turned to face Alec and saw the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. Alec said, “That’s a point in your favor, too. Not that I hate those flags, but some fucking day I hope we don’t need them.”