I remember the day that I first met Blake Powell, because it was mid-August and the hottest day of the summer. He was struggling on crutches with a gleaming white cast on his left leg, and his T-Shirt was soaked to the skin with sweat. He was tall, maybe six feet two, and I could see the sculpted muscle underneath the shirt clinging to his body.

I was outside early in the morning pulling weeds in the flower bed sandwiched between the front porch of my bungalow and the slope downward to the street. It was barely 6:00 a.m., and I was avoiding the searing, humid heat promised for later in the day by getting my gardening work finished just as the sun rose. Blake exited the house next door, and I watched him painfully navigate the concrete steps down the slope to street level while wavering on the crutches.

That’s when I noticed that the “For Rent” sign next door was gone. It was Monday morning, and I arrived home after dark on Sunday after visiting a good friend for a long weekend in Door County. I was among the hundreds of thousands of others from further south in Wisconsin and states beyond who were seeking a respite from the summer heat. The “For Rent” sign was out for a good month. Now it was gone, and a tall, muscular man hobbling on crunches was taking up residence.

I stood up from the bed of slightly sun-scorched impatiens, and brushed the dirt off my knees. Hurrying to the base of the concrete steps, I called, “Can I help in any way? It looks like we’re neighbors now.”

He stopped midway down the slope and, in a flat voice ragged from the physical effort, he said, “No, I can make it. Thanks for the offer.”

I watched as he lowered the crutches to the next step and then swung himself downward in a movement that caused his entire body to sway precariously. Despite his rejection of my assistance, I climbed up the steps to try and create a human wall in case he lost his balance. “You haven’t been on those long, have you?” I asked.

Heading down to the next step, he grunted and said, “Left the hospital last Thursday.” He paused until his body stopped swaying and said, “You ask a lot of questions.”

I backed down so that he could move another step closer to street level. “Stop me if I’m too nosy. I’m just trying to be helpful. My mom broke a leg a couple of years back, and she came to live with me for two months. It was hard on her.”

Perched just one step from the sidewalk, he balanced his weight on the crutches and looked directly into my eyes. I did my best to smile in a friendly fashion. I’ve heard that my smile is one of my best attributes. I was worried that I might receive another rebuke when he said, “My name’s Blake. I just might need some of your help.”

I couldn’t stop myself from curling my mouth up into a grin. Close up, Blake was strikingly handsome even with his lips twisted into a grimace and his clothes soaked with sweat. I said, “I’m Ian, and it’s really none of my business, but why are you out here at this hour anyway? Watching you make your way down the slope like this to the street, it almost looks like you’re running away. In slow motion.”

While I waited for a response, I backed up so that he could navigate the final step to the sidewalk. After planting himself at street level, Blake sighed heavily and tried to push himself to a slightly more upright position gingerly resting the bottom of the cast on the surface of the sidewalk. He said, “I have a doctor’s appointment, and I’m supposed to meet the medical transport van down here.”

Looking at the leg and thinking about my Honda Accord, I asked, “Would you rather have a ride in a car? My treat? I work from home so my time is flexible. You won’t need to bother with total strangers.”

He smirked and said, “You are a total stranger.”

“Well, you’ve got me there, but I’m a stranger who can produce references. All I need to do is send a text message.” I paused. “On second thought, it’s probably not good for me to ask for references at 6:00 a.m.”

He cocked his head to the right. “Are you serious about the offer? And could you pick me up after? It would beat calling for the van and waiting half an hour for the pickup.”

“Where is your doctor?” I asked.

“She’s at St. Anthony’s Hospital. That’s where they did the surgery on the leg. I don’t think it’s far from here.”

I smiled. “No, not at all. It’s maybe just ten blocks or so. Do you have a cell phone? Why don’t you just give the transport a call and cancel. I’ll get you there in ten minutes or less.”

He said, “I don’t like being suspicious, but do you have some kind of motive here? I mean, I’m not used to a lot of kindness from strangers.”

I reached up and made a show of scratching my head and then said, “Umm, you’re my new neighbor, so this seems a good opportunity to get to know each other just a little bit. Also, I saw a lot of bad situations when mom was staying with me. Ultimately, I volunteered to regularly drive three other people back and forth to appointments. I sat in the waiting room and listened to stories. I couldn’t help feeling sympathetic. You might say I’m a fairly decent guy.”

Blake pulled the cellphone from the pocket of the gym shorts he was wearing. I watched him start to sway again and reflexively reached out to keep him from falling. He grumbled, “Everything is so damned complicated.”

I said, “Let me hang on here.” I stabilized the crutches and leaned my shoulder into his chest. It was a little bit awkward but he was able to pull up the transport phone number with his left arm resting across my left shoulder. The physical contact felt good. His body was strong, and I concluded that he either was recently an active athlete, or he at least had a serious gym routine.

Listening to the conversation from my end, I understood that Blake would still have to pay a cancellation fee. I frowned, but I held my position until the conversation was over. As he dropped the phone back into his pocket, I said, “I’m sorry about the cancellation fee, but this will save you a lot of money in the long run.”

He grumbled, “I’m sure my insurance company will be happy. Fortunately, I’m still a year from getting kicked off my parents’ policy.”

I said, “Why don’t you just stay right here, and I’ll pull the car around.”

“Thank you. Again, you don’t have to do this. I’m not helpless.”

With a nod, I said, “Few people are truly helpless, but we can all use some additional help on occasion.” I looked into his eyes. They were a deep, dark brown almost like polished mahogany. Then I glanced away. “Yes, I’ll be right back with the car.”

Blake stood at the curb leaning on the crutches and turning his head to scan the neighborhood. I wondered if it was his first time outside since being moved into the house. I backed out of the driveway and then backed about 50 feet along the curb until the car pulled even with Blake. I hopped out and circled the car. Blake’s forehead was damp with droplets of sweat, and he started to move a hand upward to wipe it away but then caught himself with the crutches when he began to sway again.

I said, “For now, it’s probably going to be easiest for you to just sit in the back seat and then slide your back end clear across so that your leg can rest flat on the seat.”

Blake nodded. “Yes, that’s how my uncle brought me here.”

“They just dropped you off?” I asked. “Is this their house?”

He looked at me and said, “Open the door, please.”

I frowned. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Yes, I’ll do that.” I opened the door and he sat heavily on the edge of the seat. Then he handed me the crutches and propelled himself backward with his hands. I said, “Forgive me, I’m being a little nosy.”

When I turned the key, and I pulled away from the curb, I thought I heard a sigh of relief from the back seat. Blake said, “Pardon me for a being a little rude, but this really sucks, you know. I’m not good at just lying around all the time.”

I pulled up to a four-way stop and then turned right saying, “I can only imagine. Fortunately, nothing like this has ever happened to me. I’ll be nosy one last time and ask what happened.”

Glancing in the rearview mirror, I could see Blake raise an eyebrow. He asked, “Are you promising this is the last time you will be interrogating me?”

I said, “I try not to make promises.” Then I drove on, and we were both silent.

After three more blocks, Blake said, “I smashed up the leg in a minor league baseball game. It killed the rest of the season and maybe the career.”

My mouth fell open, and I wasn’t sure exactly why. There were so many possible reasons. I had a real minor league baseball player in my back seat, but his career was possibly over. He sustained the injury in the heat of the game, and he trusted me enough to share the story. Silence hung again in the air, and I realized it was my turn to respond. I said, “I’m really really sorry. You won’t be able to play next year?”

His shoulders shrugged as he said, “The doc says I might be recovered enough to get out on the field, but the minors are tough, and I sorta think the team might have already passed me by. I need a lot of luck to get back in the game.”

I said, “Well, if that really turned out to be the case, I know it’s not the same as baseball, but I’m part of a softball league.”

Blake replied, “I don’t know. I might just be done with anything involving gloves, bats, or balls. I really don’t like to think much about it.”

Before I could stop myself, I blurted out the question, “So…what happened? In the game?” I asked.

He said, “You weren’t nosy for exactly a minute and thirty seconds.”

“Oh, give me a break. This is only the next logical question to ask, Blake.”

He said, “It’s a good thing I think you really are a good guy…and not so bad to look at either.”

His next few words were lost to my ears, as I tried to parse that last comment. Was he complimenting my appearance? Does he like guys? I said, “Hang on, I think I missed something.”

Blake spoke deliberately and slowly as he repeated himself. “I said, I was distracted just for a moment by my thoughts, and I stepped wrong on first base. My ankle twisted, and I went down. When I tried to pop back up, I just went down in a heap, and the pain was excruciating. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

I bit my lip to stop myself from asking what thought distracted him. I was approaching the front circle drive outside of the hospital anyway. Instead of continuing my interrogation, I asked, “Do you want me to come inside? I can do that, or I can just pull up a wheelchair, and you can climb in and take it from there yourself.”

He said, “If you just get me the wheelchair, I think I’ll be fine. Then give me your number, and I’ll text when the doc is finished.”

Retrieving the wheelchair and helping Black pull himself out of the backseat was an easy process. I gave him my number and then waved as he glanced back briefly before propelling himself through the sliding glass doors of the hospital entry. I didn’t realize it was the last time I would see him for over six months.

I drove back home daydreaming of all the ways I could help take care of my new handsome neighbor. Rewinding the compliment in my head, I also realized he might be my new gay neighbor. That thought set off a chain reaction of other ideas like cooking together and binge watching TV. We could relax on my back patio, and I could grill out. I had the perfect friendship planned.

Then it came crashing down. Blake called from the hospital instead of sending a text message. In a cheerful voice, I asked, “Did it all go well.”

He said, “It went fine, but I have almost three months to come without weight on it which means crutches and wheelchairs.”

I sighed and said, “That really does suck, but don’t worry, I’ll help you manage.”

He continued, “Oh, that’s the main reason I called instead of sending a text. I got a call from my aunt, and, apparently, my aunt and uncle started to feel a little bit guilty. They are going to pick me up and then have me live with them in their house. It’s across the city on the south side. I just wanted to thank you for all of your help, Ian. I really appreciate it.”

I started to whine, “So I won’t…,” and then I caught myself. Instead, I tried to be as positive as possible and said, “That’s a good thing. I’m glad the relatives came to their senses. Be well, Blake, and I wish you all the best.”

Blake said, “You, too, Ian. And good luck with the league.”