Gibberish
(Eclipse No. 1)

Eclipse, that charming active adult community in New Jersey—with a stress on the word active, is one of many such communities that have invaded the once pastoral farmlands of Middlesex County. As with such communities there is diversity and adversity— games to be played and games played. Like many such communities, it is not without issues.  What is so and so doing with pink flamingoes on her patio? There is too little shade here or too much shade there. This unit has more trees than another; trees are dying, trees are too small—others are obtrusive, those trees, over there are attracting Japanese Beetles.

And of course, as with such communities, it is not without gossip—every active adult’s most pleasurable past time. Indeed, everybody knows everybody’s business—if not at the moment then certainly in an hour or two. At Eclipse word gets around faster than a hummingbird’s wings. Let me give you this recent example that began with the woman on Walnut Ridge telling a personal incident to the gentleman who lives at 1425 Acorn Circle. The story as relayed to me is as follows…

The woman on Walnut Ridge told the Acorn Circle fellow that she and her husband became really good friends with their neighbors across the common grounds who live on Almond Way. The women shopped together, she said, had their manicures and hair done together and doubled up for tennis. The husbands also were close—golfed every Tuesday, bowled on Thursdays. As couples they did everything together: theater, parties, cruises, and at community events, they were always seated at the same table.

“So imagine my shock,” the woman-on-Walnut Ridge said to the fellow-on-Acorn, “when the husband-on-Almond Way, catches me in the clubhouse and says ‘We can’t be involved with you as a couple any longer. I’ve fallen in love with you.’ He went on to say he desperately needed to be alone with me. Desperately! Imagine!”

“And your response?” asked the fellow from Acorn Circle.

“Well, of course, I would have none of it. I told him he needed his head examined. I told him I loved my husband and would never, absolutely never, be interested in another man.” She paused. “You know who I’m speaking about, right—the guy on Almond Way?” she asked.

The Acorn Circle gentleman nodded his head.

“Well, he continued on, saying he did love his wife, but something was missing. Missing! Me! I was mortified of course and after I told my husband about this, we decided to just go cold-turkey and never see them again. Can you imagine? Please keep this to yourself. Please—”

The gentleman from Acorn Circle being a gentleman assured her that of course, he would keep this to himself and that evening, in bed, as he and his wife were watching TV, he shared the conversation with her. She was aghast.

 “My God, he’s so much older than his wife—who I must say, although she is pretty attractive, clearly has had help—perhaps too much help. By the way, dear,” she asked her husband, “why do you think that woman shared this information with you?” She decided then and there to avoid the woman on Walnut Ridge whom she knew was up to no good.

 “Damned if I know—but please keep it to yourself. Hon, do you hear me?” he asked, as she turned over and began to snore.

The following day at Bridge the woman from Acorn Circle felt compelled to give all the details to her best friend, a widow on Chestnut Way who thought it was all bullshit. She said she never even saw the couples dance with each other at any of the community gatherings and certainly did not hear either of them say anything inappropriate.

 “He’s one sicko! Everybody knows that,” said the woman to her right, who upon returning home, immediately told the divorcee she was dating that she felt sorry for the wife being married to such a weasel for so many years. They both agreed—lewd, licentious, indecent behavior—what else might you expect from men after all?

 The Republican who lives next to the couple on Almond Way wished the gossip would end and he made excuses for his neighbor. “Look, he said, “the woman who was hit upon has a nice figure—nice boobs and tush. Give the guy a break.”

The wife of the Republican felt sorry for the wronged woman—who, in this instance, she felt was the wife of the man on Almond Way and not the slut from Walnut Ridge. “For God’s sake, she recently lost her mother and she has to deal with the fact that everybody is talking about her screw-ball husband. He’s pathetic—but to be fair, if the husband of the other woman had any sense he would’ve kicked the guy’s butt.”

Her best friend on Nutmeg Road agreed. “And I question the motive of that one on Walnut Ridge—spreading the story in the first place. You see the way she struts her stuff at the pool; never gets her hair wet—God forbid!” ­

The wife of the man on Almond Way defended her husband to anyone who would listen, saying it was the woman on Walnut Ridge who made the pass at her husband. “He’s only human.” she was said to have said.

The new couple on Macadamia decided that they did not know the people involved, did not want to know the people involved and couldn’t care less about their predicament. But then again, as I said, they were new to the community.

The artsy loner on Pecan Lane decided to submit the story to The New Yorker magazine. It was accepted—under a pseudonym, of course.

“And it’s not over—” The mother of the woman who lives on Nutmeg Road, who lives in a neighboring community said to her aide. “My daughter said as word traveled, friends of both couples, who were at one time close, became remote, breaking social ties and in general not acting as friendly as usual.”

Lydia Benson at ReMax and Susan Mc Kinley of Century 21 were happy to list the two homes. They were the same model although I heard the woman on Walnut Ridge certainly had better decorating sense than the one on Almond Way.

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About the author
Arlene Gralla Feldman is a retired New York City High School English teacher. She has a Masters of Fine Arts (Fiction Writing) from Brooklyn College. Feldman has been published in various venues; an excerpt from her novella, One God or Another was published in the anthology, Two Worlds Walking: Short Stories, Essays & Poetry by Writers with Mixed Heritages, Edited by Diane Glancy and C. W. Truesdale (New Rivers Press, 1994). During the COVID Pandemic Feldman developed a blog as a creative writing outlet in which she recorded her dreams. Her blog includes over three hundred entries with photos of her art work as well as that of acquaintances. About | Dreamz (arlron9.wixsite.com). Feldman lives in an active adult community in Monroe Township where she is an Associate Editor of her community newspaper. “Gibberish” is her fourth contribution to the Kelsey Review.