The Widow's Gift

Levi wiped his sweaty palms on his faded jeans then rang the doorbell.

He was nervous and hated that he felt that way. If there was a dictionary definition for a completely safe, non-threatening interaction with another human being–and Levi wasn’t entirely sold on the idea–this would be it.

He fervently wished that he had taken an Ativan before coming here but that was the problem. Levi was beginning to wish he had taken the little five-sided anti-anxiety pills whenever he left the house and building a physical dependence on Lorazepam was the last thing he wanted to do.

“I am coming. Who is there?”

The voice that came from within the large Laketown home was feminine, strongly accented and musical in quality. Ms Alina Makarova was audibly Eastern European. Often sounding like a coloratura soprano from a Hungarian operetta with the way her carefully articulated English rolled off her tongue, exotically laced with a lyrical lilt.

“I-It’s only me, Ms Makarova.” He answered timidly then felt a bit stupid, “I mean, it’s me. Levi Millard.”

He shuffled his feet and took a few deep breaths to center himself.

Levi knew on an intellectual level that the skittish tension he was experiencing was irrational. He understood that the twist in his guts were the result of an unfortunate cocktail of misfiring neurochemicals flooding the limbic system in his brain.

But no amount of book learning, online research and, let’s be honest, underwhelming College counseling sessions helped.

“Levi!” He flinched back as the huge double doors flew open, “I am pleasured to see you again, Darling”

Alina appeared genuinely excited to see him, as she always did. Levi was never sure why exactly, he knew that he was nothing impressive. Not like his gorgeous older neighbor with her thick, wavy blanket of golden hair touched up with hints of autumn and faultless, timeless allure…

The mature foreign beauty looked like she was barely pushing thirty rather than the forty some years she consistently claimed. Her face was regal, fine featured with soft plump lips, a perfectly pert nose and those magnetic gray-green eyes that Slavic women seemed to monopolize.

Alina’s dazzling visage was supremely smooth and expressive, her radiant smile could illuminate ten city blocks though not a single line marred her blemishless cheeks or brow. A person could be fooled into thinking she wore artfully applied makeup but Levi never spotted a sign of it as she swooped in close to embrace him… again.

“Ummm… Hi, Ms Makarova.” He mumbled awkwardly as she pressed his flushing face into her pillowy bosom.

“Levi, how many times?” She scolded gently, rubbing the back of his head as he tried to politely disengage from her overly familiar touch. “You must call me Alina… Al-ee-na.”

“Hnnnmph… Yes, Ms Makarova.” He said, finally pulling away. “What chores can I help you with today?”

Despite her gregarious disposition, one thing Levi genuinely appreciated about Alina Makarova was that she did not outwardly flaunt her feminine wiles…

Jeezus, did he really just use the term ‘feminine wiles?’ How old was he, nineteen going on Amish?

But it was true, Levi's down-the-street neighbor was decidedly reserved in her manner of dress.

Alina heavily favored baggy figure obscuring clothing, like loose fitting sweatpants and over-sized wool knit sweaters. The most revealing outfit he had ever caught her wearing was some workman’s jeans and a fluffy pink hoodie which she had practically been swimming in.

While many Illinois residents were taking advantage of the warm spring sunshine to shuck off the shackles of winter fashion, Alina was dressed in an old fashioned house coat buttoned tightly at her slender neck and draping formlessly to her ankles.

She was certainly hiding something under the dense layers of cotton fabric, The generous swell of her breasts and other subtle hints Levi had caught left no doubt on that point. But given his nervous disposition around women, he was honestly grateful for her old-school sense of modesty.

“Levi, no…” She pouted and the puckering of those kissable strawberry lips threatened to make the young man break out in a fop sweat. “You Americans are far too busy. Always rushing with the ‘GoGoGo’. Come inside me, please and keep a lonely old lady company for a spell.”

That was another thing.

Sometimes Alina’s otherwise excellent grasp on the language… slipped in embarrassing ways. Levi knew he should probably correct her but that would probably be fatally mortifying for at least one party involved.

“Okay but… but just for a few minutes.” He stammered looking down at his sneakers. “Then we need to get to work. I have exams coming up and…”

“Круто!” Alisa lapsed back into her native tongue briefly as she clapped her hands excitedly. “I will make us coffee. You will like my coffee I think, Darling.”

The way Alina always said “Darling” came out sounding more like “darlink”.

She reached for his hand but Levi winced and sharply jerked away as she tried to pull him further into her extravagant suburban home. Extending his arm had made his freshly strained shoulder flare up painfully.

She looked back at him with worry burning bright in those large, mesmerizing gray-green eyes. “Levi, something is wrong. You are hurt. What is this thing?”

“It-It’s nothing.” Levi could feel the all-too-familiar heat of humiliation dust his cheeks. “Please, Ms Makarova… I don’t want to talk about it.”

Alina frowned and her expression soured suspiciously before relaxing into one of almost motherly concern. She stepped up to him, getting in close. Too close, really, and laying an elegant hand on his chest as she looked compassionately down at Levi. Alina was a tall, striking picture of noble consternation as she affectionately caressed his cheek.

“We will drink coffee and we will talk, Darling.” She said quietly, but there were hints of steel in her usually melodic voice. “You will tell your dear, dear friend Alisa what ails you and we will see what is to do.”

Levi didn’t know what his neighbor thought she could do to help. Moreover, he really didn’t want to go into any of it. Not with anyone but he could see the hardened resolve in her enchanting gaze and his defenses shattered.

Those eyes were suddenly cold and gunmetal gray. Alisa kept them locked onto his own, even as she calmly guided him towards the kitchen.

---

“Heya Mill-tard. You better have those class notes for me.”

Levi trembled but tried his best to hide it as he hurriedly spun towards his approaching tormentor.

Or more accurately; tormentors… plural.

The University of Illinois Springfield was located six miles southeast of Springfield, occupying 740 acres of easily navigable higher learning, adjacent to Lake Springfield. Levi had been trying to cross the colonnade, simply another face in the faceless crowd of countless other students, and still they found him.

They always found him.

Britney, Carmen and Kimmy.

Three youthful specimens of ripening womanhood with visages of angels and the souls drawn directly from the seventh ring of hell as Dante described it.

“Please, Britney… I was going to finish listening to the recorded lecture over lunch.” Levi pleaded. “If you would just give me your email, I could send them directly–”

“Email? What a fucking nerd.” Britney sneered, flipping back her long golden curls in disgust.

She was the quintessential college cheerleader. Devastatingly attractive in that all-American homegrown hottie style. The teen beauty queen face, a frankly ridiculous combination of athletically lean and imminently busty figure, perfectly blonde, perfectly everything really.

And a raging bitch to boot.

Levi shrank back but soon realized the three coeds had corralled him against one of the towering white columns with no way to escape. Like they had been waiting for him and timed it that way.

They probably had. It fit well with their general modus operandi.

Levi didn’t know why history insisted on repeatedly beating him up by proxy through girls like these but it was the story of his life. From elementary school to the present, the mean girls seemed to hone in on him like a goddamn beacon and go out of their way to turn him into their punching bag in every possible sense of the word.

It was as though they took one glance at his small build, his soft hands and lanky hair and thought “Oh, there’s Levi Millard. He’s a cowardly scarecrow that practices piano instead of football and likes to read books about history. We should the shit out of him and make his life hell. We’re hot, he’s not and who's going to believe him anyway?”

…and so far, they had been right. Regrettably so.

“Nobody uses email anymore, Mill-tard.” Carmen mocked.

She was a stunning Latina scholarship athlete who had led the UIS girls soccer team to victory in the last three inter-college matches. With her long dark hair, smokey eyes and take-no-prisoners attitude to game fouls. She packed the stands at every game with drooling male fans, thanks to her aggressive play style and rock hard butt, toned hips and muscular thighs.

“I don’t think the loser knows what DMs are.” Kimmy sniffed, not deigning to look at him as she tapped away at the latest iteration of whatever fruit inspired smartphone was currently in vogue. “What would his profiles even look like?”

Weirdly, Kimmy rankled Levi the most out of the three of his beautiful, dreadful oppressors.

Like, what was she even doing with the other two? She was an academic overachiever hanging out with what were essentially two female jocks. Surely, out of the three of them, the delicately pretty Korean freshman should have some empathy towards his plight.

Bookworms 4 life… or something like that.

No such luck.

The petite Asian ice queen had zero compunctions about standing back in her calculatedly short, pleated miniskirts and perfectly pressed white blouses that hugged her shapely upturned breasts like a second skin. Looking like some undercover k-pop starlet touching up her makeup while her thuggish friends extracted their daily pound of flesh from Levi’s skinny ass.

He was certain she got her cut by some existentially pleasing means, though he had no idea what she could possibly want from the likes of him.

"I'm nobody." Levi wanted to weep at the unfairness of his eternal dilemma. "I don't know what you want from me."

"I want my class notes, you little bitch." Britney hissed, jabbing him painfully in his skinny chest with a long painted nail. "I'm not going to let my GPA score drop and get kicked off the cheer squad because you were busy trying on your mommy's dresses all night instead of studying."

"I'm not even in PSC 201, I'm a communications major…"

Carmen stepped up and in one fluid movement, grabbed his wrist and twisted Levi around until his nose was mashed against the cold cement of the column. His breath escaped him in a painful wheeze and she yanked his scrawny arm up behind his back until his shoulder joint nearly popped out of the socket.

"You'll do as you are told, you dickless anglo puta." She whispered hotly into his ear. She sounded excited. "Otherwise everything we have asked of you before now will feel like foreplay. Nod if you understand me."

Levi nodded rapidly, silent tears running down his cheeks. He felt so powerless and unmanned in Carmen's strong grip.

"So glad we sorted that out." Britney drawled, inspecting her manicured nails. "I'll expect to see you waiting with my notes in the cafeteria by noon. Don't make me come find you."

"Yes, Britney." Levi sobbed.

His legs were about to give out under him and not one person seemed willing to look in their direction. It was as though nobody cared.

"Good. We'll see you soon, Mill-tard. Byyyeee~"

All three girls laughed as they strolled away together, shoulder to shoulder, in conspiratorial cahoots like the tyrannical triumvirate of heartless shrews they truly were.

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